Blessed be Nickudu,

When things are getting pretty boring on the AR Forum I jump into one of Nickudu's photo forums like AR Cats.

For those of you that have had the honor of taking Africa's Most Noble Beast (Lion). I was wondering if you would share a short story. Where, when, with what PH, what rifle was used. Baited or Tracking or Just plain Lucky?
I am especially interested in insights on the ideal Lion combo: 375 w / scope or 470 double w/ sights or other???? Please share your knowledge and insights. Calling MRLexma, Forest, JohnS, Allen Day, Will, Palmer, JBDerunz, et all.....

Hugh

Hugh W..Good post. Matter of fact I just got my questionnaire that I'm completing now for my lion hunt in Zambia this August. I'll be hunting with John Sharp and will be using my 378 weatherby. My scope will be a leopold 3.5x 10 heavy duplex. 270 gr barnes-X. I would love to hear from others that have already been there and done it..thanks steve

My lion medicine is a Win safari grade 375H&H with a Barnes 270 Triple shock I have a Talbot mounting system base with two scopes to use..a Leupold LPS in 1.5/ 6X 42mm and a VariX III 3.5/10 50mm illuminated German 4 with red dot...Both scopes can be changed and remounted on the rifle..The other medicine is a 450#2 NE with Woodleighs....480gr. softs...

Have not shot a lion but listed is the mecicine I will use this summer July 2006...

Mike
15 weeks till the Selous...21 days...

quote:

Originally posted by retreever:
My lion medicine is a Win safari grade 375H&H with a Barnes 270 Triple shock I have a Talbot mounting system base with two scopes to use..a Leupold LPS in 1.5/ 6X 42mm and a VariX III 3.5/10 50mm illuminated German 4 with red dot...Both scopes can be changed and remounted on the rifle..The other medicine is a 450#2 NE with Woodleighs....480gr. softs...

Mike
15 weeks till the Selous...21 days...

What time of the day you take your lion?

thanks steve

Steve,

Please! No troll attacks. If I was planning on shooting a lion over bait an illuminated reticle scope would be ideal. It is easy to judgetmental about someones' tactics (especially if you have never bagged a lion)!
More info from those of you that have bagged them please! Hugh

I got my lion in Matetsi in 2002, booked a 3 week safari with the main objective lion and hippo. At the suggestion of the PH hung 9 baits, 4 quarters of giraffe plus the neck, and 4 quarters of buffalo. Weapon was 375 scoped. Leopard hit a quarter of the giraffe one night, built a blind the next morning, came back about 3PM, shot the leopard when he came to bait about 4PM. Lion hit the bait same night, back in the blind at 3PM the next day, stayed until dark, something was moving around the bait as it was getting dark, but it got too dark to shoot, Matetsi did not allow shooting after dark and we returned to camp. Lion hit the buffalo that night, built a blind the next morning, came back about 2PM, on the way walking to the blind, the tracker spotted the lion. Quick debate with the PH as to if I could take him then, or should I go on to the blind, agreed to go for it. First shot on shoulder had him jump up and spin around, another quick shot broke a rear leg. He lay down and growled a while and it was over. Trackers went, brought the truck up, we loaded him up with much effort, went back to camp and had a few beers, packed up and headed to Lake Kariba for hippo the next morning. Probably the best hunt of my life.

Pierr'e Von Tonder helped me get an old male last August in the Selous. At the start of the hunt I told Pierr'e that I wanted to shoot the lion on foot or not at all. He said he would do it but I should recognize that I was a couple sandwiches short of a picnic for wanting to walk in to a lion bait. He explained that just recently a PH he knew personally had been killed by a pride of females who were with a male the client hunter had shot.

We had a lot of baits out and a couple were hit but the one that eventually did the trick was a zebra bait that Barry Rich and Richard Lemmer had hung for us. Barry was hunting buffalo out of the same camp but was also using his plains game to help me out with the baiting.

When Richard reported the bait had been hit Pierr'e and I went in just at dusk. As we walked the last mile we ended up in the middle of a pride of females. Fortunately, they just lay still in the grass. We could not see the male so we backed out.

Just at full dark he started roaring. Hearing the chilling roars was enough to give me second thoughts about insisting that we shoot him on foot. I did not sleep well that night but we got up early and went back to the bait arriving just before daylight.

We slipped in to the bait and confirmed that it had been hit again during the night. As Twiga, Pierr'e and I stood under the bait looking at his tracks in the sandy soil Dominic was using my binoculars to look around.

Suddenly Dommy said "Simba hapa hapa"- roughly Swahili for Lion right here. Pierr'e took a quick look and said "Allen he is right under that forked tree. He is looking at you." The trackers started drifting behind us. The area he was now pointing to was a group of small trees with medium height grass throughout.

I could see a forked tree about 30 or 35 yards away but could not see the lion. Pierr'e and I had a hot conversation about the tree. He couldn't understand why I could not see the lion. Pierr'e was getting exasperated with me. Dommy came up and tried to point him out. I still could not see him.

Then he moved. I had been looking at the wrong forked tree. I saw him and shot with my John Ricks 375 H and H at the same instant. At the shot he let out a terrific roar and started spinning around. Several females that no one had seen got up from the grass and scattered. I shot again and he disappeared. Pierr'e thought he had run off and was anxiously asking me where I shot him but Twiga said he went down in the grass.

We walked up cautiously and found him dead. Everyone went nuts and we had a great time telling each other our personal versions of the whole thing. The trackers pantomine of Pierr'e trying to point out the lion was hilarious.

Back near camp we stopped and decorated the Land Rover with branches of trees. Dommy fired two shots into the air with Pierr'es rifle and we "blew the whistle" or horn all the way into camp. The trackers were shouting Kabuke and Kuta rythmically. Out of camp poured the whole staff to meet us. They were banging on lids and pans and also shouting Kabuki Kabuki while waving branches.

I am not sure but think Kabuki must mean party. At any rate I later figured out that not only were they happy about the lion but they were really happy that the tradition was that they get to drink a beer or two that night.

A chair was produced as the Land Rover stopped and I was paraded in it around the camp. The cook was leading the parade beating on a garbage can lid with a huge spoon and chanting "Who shot the big lion?" The rest of the staff would then return with "Allah (They thought my name Allen was Allah) shot the big lion" After several circles around the campfire we sat down to get royally plastered and tell our story over and over.

The cook produced a cake in about 45 minutes which had letters in the icing saying "Congratulations Allah for big lion".

I suppose most of the celebration is done traditionally in other hunters camps but it is certainly an experience one cannot forget.

Wonderful story and well written, Allen. I can't imagine any more thrilling way to take a lion than off-hand, in the open, eyes meeting at less than 30 yards!

Let's go get an elephant! Can I look forward to a few toasts next March????

No dead lion with this story, but a pretty exciting sight:

Brent Hein, my HHK PH in Matetsi in 2004 and I were approaching a leopard bait one evening when he just stopped the vehicle and started mumbling. While we had several baits out, none was more than a day old. We weren't really hunting, but just driving by a tree right before sunset to see if the kudu quarter therein had been hit.

"Get your glasses and look right through that fork in the tree", Brent said. I had to lean way to the right to look over his shoulder out of his window. At first, everything was a blur as I focused on the near tree, but when I adjusted the binoculars to see "through" the nearby branches, not one, not two, not six, but eleven lions came into view!

The bait was in a tree in the bottom of a creek bed and like spectators at a ball game, lions were in tiers on the slope overlooking the bait.

We eased up in the Land Cruiser to about 60 yards (with the staff on the back all the while telling us that they didn't think it such a good idea). The lions paid absolutely no attention to us but one by one would come down the bank, climb the tree, reach out with a paw, pull the bait to their face, latch on with their teeth and then hang on the meat, shaking their heads until a portion ripped off. They then would walk back up to their "reserved seat" and politely have a snack while the next diner would repeat the process. It was about the darnedest thing I ever saw. You'd have thought they and numbers like in a deli.

We watched them for a good five minutes until the light began to fail. We never saw a male (unless it was pretty juvenile and kind of sexless)... but somewhere in the mix with all those ladies around, I'll be a really fine fellow was just out of sight.

Lioness, 2004, Chirisa Zimbabwe
HHK Safaris, Ross Johnston PH

1911 Charles Lancaster 450/400 NE Double Rifle
Woodleigh Softs 400 grain

Unexpected opportunity, small pride spotted in 3' deep grass while elephant hunting.
Luckily, had a lioness on quota so I swapped solids for softs & started the stalk.
Serious adrenaline rush, crawling through waist high grass after lions.
At 80 yards, Ross asks me if I am comfortable with a shot. Foolishly
I tell him it would be nice to be closer.
Get a nice broadside shot at 20 - 25 yards on a huge old lioness.

Coolest part is that a cow elephant breaks through the jesse, trumpeting &
charging the dying lioness.
Before I know it, Ross starts yelling & charges the elephant. Fortunately she turns back.
He then says "That was close, she would have destroyed our bloody lion"

I guess I'm hooked on this stuff. Will be going back this August for 18 days.
Going with HHK/Ross again after lion, elephant, buff & leopard.

JudgeG: Brent Hein will be the other PH in camp, going with my hunting partner.

Jungleboy:

Great rifle and a fine old lioness!

I wonder what Brent will do if the Coca-Cola drought is still in full parch in August. I've never seen anyone drink so many Cokes!

Make sure to ask Brent when I can come get one of his Jack Russell's. Darn little dogs slept in the bed with me. Tell Friday and William I said hello, too!

Where will you be hunting and what will be on you license? Who is your PH? I haven't been out of Africa but a month and I'm jealous as hell already!

My only lion experience was an archery hunt for a vicious 8 pounder that got into our garage and sprayed his noxious scent on the baby stroller. It took 3 broadheads to resolve the issue. Plus a trip to Wal Mart for a new stroller. The package price for the hunt, including ruined arrows and new stroller, was $65.

I enjoyed a Lion hunt in the Zambezi valley last october and wrote a run down of the hunt in the hunting reports under "Zambezi lion hunt Report".
This hunt involved baiting and a lot of tracking. This was a top hunt.

ozhunter

quote:

Originally posted by Hugh W:
Steve,

Please! No troll attacks. If I was planning on shooting a lion over bait an illuminated reticle scope would be ideal. It is easy to judgetmental about someones' tactics (especially if you have never bagged a lion)!
More info from those of you that have bagged them please! Hugh

Hugh, I just asked what time of day ..nothing more nothing less..I use this board to learn and to prepare for my upcoming trip. steve

JudgeG:

I'll be hunting in Chete for 18 days. It's a 2 x 2 Hunt with a good friend.
Between us we have 2 trophy elephant, 3 buff (1 cow), lion & lioness, 2 leopard,
1 hippo & 1 croc. I'm sure it won't be easy to get all this in 18 days but
we'll try. We also hope to do some TIGER Fishing.

My PH will again be Ross Johnston & my friend Kent will be using Brent Hein.
We are leaving Aug 9 & get home Sept 2.
I will pass on greetings to Brent & crew.

Allen and Jungleboy,

Thanks for your stories!

Allen your lion seems to combat the common perception that Selous lions do not have decent manes. While he was losing a little hairline he had very nice mane length and good color.

Thanks again to both of you for sharing. Hugh

My best Lion story is in the Safari Press Series
"Hunting In Ethiopia" edited by Tony Sanchez. It's Chapter XXXV (STALKING AMBASSA) beginning on page 387. I wrote it before my "pooter" days so I don't have it in my documents.
Rich Elliott

Is this the extent of the forum's lion hunting experiences.

Can I be the only one that yearns to learn from the masters?

Here is my lion story. Chete, 2001 with Brent Hein.

4:45 AM. Chete Safari Area, Zimbabwe. Professional Hunter Brent Hein and I don’t say much beyond the usual morning pleasantries. The anticipation of a new day of hunting never seems to require a lot of talk. Anxious to get started, we hurriedly drink coffee and a few gulps of water around the cold embers of the previous night’s fire, and then prepare to depart.

Approaching the vehicle in the faint light at the edge of camp, I see the trackers Friday and Everest and the game scout, Sibanda loading up. We mumble good mornings and I hand my rifles up to Friday and he places them in the gun racks.

As we drive, I idly scan the slowly passing bush. A ground hornbill calls, greeting the ninth day of our safari. His earnest croaking reminds me of the somber notes from an aborigine’s dirigidoo. The rich scent of the African dust hangs in the faintly damp air. I’m thankful for the brief cool of the morning. The trackers talk softly in the back of the Cruiser, settling in for the day. Brent stares intently at the road ahead, headlight beams bouncing off the rutted track.

While checking baits on the third morning, we had spooked a lion off the road. He had been walking towards us, but ran toward the lake at the sound of the vehicle. We took up his track and were encouraged by the long mane hair he left on the bush as he passed. After a half hour he led us along the shoreline and into a no-hunting zone near an abandoned photographic camp. Then, he vanished. No more activity on the road or at the baits. Around the campfire in the evenings we listened for his call, but heard nothing. Brent suspected that he’d swum the narrow gorge to Chete Island for a few days rest or to tend a female. Of course we didn’t know how long he might remain on the island – if that was where he was. As I crawled under the mosquito netting that night for a few hours of fitful sleep in the October heat, I was happy to have simply had the opportunity to track a lion and to know that our paths had nearly crossed. Maybe now we would have a second chance at him.

Our destination was a crossroads near the lake where we had hung a buffalo quarter a few days before. We had seen the fresh tracks of a lioness there on the first afternoon. On a hunch she might attract a male, we placed several baits in the area. We checked them each morning and afternoon, doing drags and replacing them when necessary due to loss from vultures and the heat. We often encountered buffalo and elephants, which we followed, searching for an old daga boy or a bull with decent ivory. One afternoon, Brent showed me his version of running the bulls Zimbabwe style, as we chased a herd of buffalo at a dead run through the bush, getting closer and closer each time they stopped to look back, enabling us to look over the whole herd for a mature bull. But our minds were on lion and the days quickly became a routine of tending our baits and searching for fresh spoor.

More than half a mile before reaching the first bait, Brent brings the Cruiser to a slow stop. Friday hands me down my old Whitworth .375 H&H. I come around the front of the vehicle, quietly chambering a round. Friday follows, carrying Brent’s bush worn Brno .375 H&H. Brent is ten yards ahead, his eyes on the ground, carefully examining the spoor. Without looking up, he raises two fingers over his shoulder and shakes his hand once for emphasis. Two lions. As I move alongside him, Brent whispers, “Male and female. Be ready, they’re probably at the baitâ€. He exchanges glances with Friday and we move on slowly.

We cautiously approach the crossroads. It is easy to step quietly in the sand. The light has turned from soft gray to pink. Any hint of moisture in the air has vanished. Careful to avoid any unnecessary sound, I am conscious of my own breathing. It comes in shallow, steady draughts. The insistent call of a cape turtledove mimics my heartbeat. We look carefully at the base of the tree and the surrounding bush, searching for the tip of an ear, the flick of a tail. The branches we had arranged to cover the bait are still in place. The hum of the flies swarming the meat electrifies the air. The spoor shows that the lions have strolled past, within feet of the ripe buffalo carcass. They haven’t even bothered to step off the road to investigate. Brent shakes his head. He jams a toe into the dust to check the direction of the breeze. Again, he and Friday communicate with a glance. Brent gives me a look and checks Everest to confirm he carries the water bottles. Without a word we continue on.

Several hundred yards on we reach a spot where the road runs close to the lake. A herd of buffalo has crossed, heading back to cover after their morning drink. The tracks of the lions cover those of the buffalo. The lions have circled tightly to catch the scent of the herd. Brent and Friday stop to read the spoor. Again, Brent scuffs the ground, checking the breeze. Friday confirms with his powder bottle. The tracks move off to the east, away from the lake, up a rise of sharp rock, and jesse.

The tracking is slower, more deliberate now. The trackers take no chances with the path the lions have taken. We stick to the spoor, often just a broken stalk of grass or a partial pad mark obscured by a leaf. Brent’s tracking skills are keen as well. He keeps his men focused and often finds the next clue when the spoor has been lost. In places, we find the bush still parted by the passing of the lions. In others, it seems difficult to tell that a herd of buffalo has traveled through. We maintain an economy of words, communicating by a nod of the head, snapping of fingers, pointing at the spoor.

7:00 AM. It is hot now, the temperature already in the mid 90’s. I am grateful for the faint breeze in my face as we crest a tree-covered rise. I look back to see the lake in the far distance. As Friday and Everest cast about for the track, Brent and I stand together watching. Reading the terrain, Brent whispers “Look how they’re working the buffalo. The lions are flanking them, giving them their scent and funneling them down into that valley.†We look below, searching for movement, for the dark shapes of buffalo or the telltale pall of dust hanging in their wake. “They’ll lay up soon in this heat, won’t they?†I ask, wondering if we would catch up to them. “If the lions carry on with their plan we’ll catch themâ€, Brent says. If the buffalo are able to move back toward the lake, we probably won’t†Friday snaps his fingers, motioning that he has found the spoor.

Descending the ridge, we suddenly stop at the sound of a mournful bellow that rises into a screech of pain and panic. I start to ask Brent if it sounds like buffalo to him, but he impatiently motions me to be quiet. We stand for nearly a minute, listening, then move on.

The bush is thicker in the valley and the buffalo stick to a labyrinth of game trails. The lions follow patiently, their tracks bold again in the hot sand. Brent pauses to smear fresh buffalo dung with his toe. Gaining ground, we move on, faster. The tracking is easy now and Friday is ahead, moving quickly over the spoor, the skin of his back shiny with sweat. For the hundredth time, I notice the heels of his feet softly flapping against worn-out sandals. They are tough looking, gray and cracked, like those of an old bull elephant. The breeze licks my face, giving me confidence in the lions’ pursuit, and in ours. I imagine their determined stride, their shoulder blades working like pistons, their heads held low as they doggedly stalk the buffalo. A gray lowrie joins the drumbeat of birdcalls. “Go-‘way, go-‘way!†I am aware again of my own heartbeat and of the hard metal taste in my mouth.

The spoor enters a thick tangle of green riverine bush and for a moment I welcome the cool shade. Suddenly, Friday comes to an abrupt stop, grabbing Brent by his shirttail. Friday looks over his shoulder at me and takes a step back. Lion? At 10 yards, I see the lazy arc of an appendage swinging low across an opening in the bush. Flushed with adrenaline, I believe for an instant that I’ve seen a lion’s tail. Friday and Everest pump furiously on their powder bottles and we stand fast. Brent scans our surroundings, looking for an escape route. The elephants sense our presence. I see the trunk move up to test the air, shuffling feet, the top of one head. I stare into the bush and see a calf move closer to protective legs. Minutes pass and the tension of the standoff builds until at once, the herd moves off, trees snapping, the bush parting in its wake. I note the relief on Brent’s face. He offers a half-hearted smile and whispers, “That could have been interesting.â€

Everest hands me the water bottle. My shirt is soaked through and sticks to my back. Mopane flies swarm at the corners of my eyes and around my ears. The barrel of my rifle is hot and slick in my hand. Back on the spoor, still buzzing from our encounter with the elephants, we move on, the tracking easy, faster.

8:15 AM. Coming down a steep bank into a dry riverbed, we come upon two buffalo cows lying end to end, as if placed there. Much of their hindquarters are torn away, their lower paunches flayed open. Deep gouges in the sand and the smell of blood tell the story of the lion’s ambush and the death struggle we heard an hour before. Brent pokes Everest in the chest with his forefinger, a reminder to be watchful. Without a word, he checks Friday and Sibanda, who squat behind the first buffalo. Crawling on hands and knees, Brent moves several yards down the riverbed past the second carcass. I follow deliberately, trying to be quiet, ignoring the hot sand cutting into my knees, aware of the tightness in my chest and my heart pounding in my ears. Brent comes to an abrupt halt and slowly turns, urgently motioning me forward. “Lion!â€, he mouths. His tense expression gives me a strange comfort as I realize that he feels the adrenaline too.

As I reach him, Brent points into the tree line at the edge of the creek bed. There, in the shade 20 yards away is the lion. He is lying on his massive belly, head up, his sides heaving, panting from the heat and his hunt. The lioness is surely nearby but unseen. The hair on my neck stands up. My vision narrows as I stare at the lion and realize that there is not even a blade of grass that separates us. Two leaps across that narrow belt of sand and he would be in our laps. Without a word, Brent sits in front of me. He grabs the barrel of my rifle and places the fore end on his left shoulder. He plugs his ears with his fingers.

The 300-grain Fail Safe bullet strikes slightly high on the right shoulder. The lion springs to his feet, suddenly alert, hateful eyes searching for his tormentors. His head swings in our direction. “Hit him againâ€, Brent yells. The second shot enters behind the shoulder. The lion bellows and spins wildly, biting at his wounds. His mad caterwauling carries him into a snarl of bush at the edge of the creek. “Againâ€! I grab Brent by the neck of his shirt and roughly haul him to our right to gain a better angle. Working the bolt, I settle again onto Brent’s shoulder. The third shot, aimed at the roaring, writhing mass of golden fur, hits the lion on the right side of the nose. He stumbles from the cover and collapses on his side. We move forward and with shaky hands I reload, then pay the insurance with a shot to the chest.

For an instant, no one says a word. The sounds of the lion’s roar and the final shot mingle and fade beyond the hills. The insistent calling of doves punctuates the ringing in my ears. I stare in awe at the magnificent old lion before us.

The tension breaks. Our senses restored, we forget ourselves. We yell and embrace, jumping up and down with awkward, wildly pumping handshakes, clapping each other on the back. Later, we prepare for the long walk back to camp, while somewhere nearby, her belly full for now, the lioness moves on toward the next hunt.

David,

Very well told.

An incredible lion. More pics if possible.

Thank you.

Hugh

Here are a couple of photos of my lion.

David W,

Outstanding story. Very well told.

I've been quite fortunate to have taken the "Big 4" without a great deal of trouble and I've been quite happy with the quality of trophies I've taken. The exception being the lion.

When I went on my first safari part of the deal with my partner Sadie was that we would take no cats. As it turned out as soon as we hit camp in the Zambesi valley a lion was offered to us as a target of opportunity. Well Sadie did an about face and we've been cat hunting ever since. No we didn't get a lion on that hunt but it put the quest in motion.

Following that first safari we saw lions, had lions on bait and even shot a lion but I never really felt complete as I hadn't seen the lion that really fit my picture. Also each hunt had been hard and emotionally draining with day after day of checking far flung baits, building countless blinds and lions that only dined in the dark.

In '03 we hunted some great lion country in Muhesi/Kisigo in western Tanzania and once again we struggled. This time it was very difficult to shoot enough animals for baits but we did finally get a blond monster to come for a meal.

In a very distant tree 3 hours from camp near a drying pool of water we had hung half an eland. At noontime about day 16 we came up over a rise and here were 2 big lions leaving that bait. We had seen their tracks and knew they were in the area but this was the first sighting we had of them. The younger lion who would have been a shooter anywhere else was in the rear as they moved away but he was dwarfed by the brute in the lead.

After some excited conversation we built a blind at 34 yards from the bait and removed the reed skirt from the eland to allow the vultures to feed. Lions won't tolerate vultures feeding on their kill so we knew it would only be a short wait before the lions returned to reclaim their meal.

In exactly an hour the younger male came in at a lope and what picture with the dust puffing up from each stride in the still air. We expected the big male to immediately follow and actually we expected the big lion to come first since he was dominant but no deal. The younger lion hung around the bait for some time and finally drifted back into the bush.

Here we sat four peole in a very small blind with sweat running, bugs crawling, trying to be still for the two hours it took the younger male to once again return. Nerves were again tense in anticipation of the arrival of the big cat. No deal this time either. Damn!

Two more hours of buzzing bugs, sweat and the continual squabbling of the vultures on the bait brought us to the lastlight of the day. In the last few minutes of shooting light we could faintly see a lion approaching the bait but once again it was the younger lion. Guy the PH had been telling me throughout the day that the big lion would come. Well as the last moments of light died the big lion had not come and we called the Land Cruiser. 5 minute later as the car swung its light through the area just right of the bait there laid the lion that fit my picture but he was safe as the daylight was completely gone.

After that we ran out of baits and time but I'm scheduled for another 21 days in '07. This time in our Lobo concession. Hopefully Diana will be with me and the lion residing in my head will finally be in the salt.

Mark

David and the others:

Great stories and photos

500:

You crack me up sometimes. Reminds me of a little hunt my brother in law had after a feline took his smoked vension out of his garage. The weapon of choice was a hatchet. I understand it was quite a bloody affair when it was over.

Score Hunter 1 ----- Cats 0


No czts stories here just dreams, maybe some day.

ilw

I'll make mine short. Had been baiting for this free ranging big boy for about 10 days near Kruger. He had even charged the PH's vehicle late one afternoon and had given everyone a real scare. A few days later he came in to a hippo hind quarter just before dark, that we had hung earlier that morning. He had approached the bait from about 600 yards out over a 5-6 hour period and had laid down near the bait, waiting for darkness and the full moon to feed. The shot was from about 60 yards out with the .375 H&H magnum as we could not get any closer because of the thick bush and darkness fast approaching. The first shot severed the aorta, the second broke his neck. His weight was 610 pounds with a 27" skull measurement, and his length 11' 10". After the two shots, we proceeded in VERY SLOWLY AND VERY CAREFULLY. I opted to carry the .470 NE Double Rifle for the walk in, just in case. You can't really see the sweat, but believe me I had covered myself in perspiration.

Very, very cool.

super, thanks.
more stories about lioness hunt please

UEG

I think I commented on your lion before but I don't think a wild lion ever gets much better than yours or bigger. My! What a brute.

Garry Kelly tells me he just returned from a lion hunt in the Timbavati and on day 6 they took a 10-12 year old massive male after several hours of tense tracking. I'm glad some people don't believe the hype that all RSA lions are canned.

Congratulations on a spectacular trophy.

Mark

Gentlemen

EXCELLANT stories and pictures...

Mark, from one Wyoming cowboy to another I hope some day soon I can book a hunt with you.

Take care

Steve

Hugh W, I almost didn't post this, since nothing I say here can fully explain or do justice to my experiences. But I truly did enjoy reading David W's account of his lion hunt, so I will give it a try.

I have killed two lions. Neither was taken over bait, although in the case of the first one, we tried mightily to bait him. We tracked, and then stalked, both of my lions until I was able to get a shot.

So, I guess I am lucky. Two lions killed in this day and age, and in that manner, are two more than most will ever hunt, much less kill, even over bait.

But, I am also unlucky with lions.

Neither of the first shots I took was ideal. We knew that. But in both cases the shots were the best I was going to get, and they were more than acceptable, in our considered judgment at the time. Still, I wounded both of my lions, and did not kill them, with the first shots taken.

In both cases, intervening brush deflected my bullets a mere few inches off the mark. Sometimes, a few inches do not matter, but in the case of my lions, just that much deflection meant the difference between fatal and non-fatal wounds. Sometimes, it is not so easy, no matter how hard one tries, to make the first shot count.

So, I have had to follow up two wounded lions. Not something anyone really wants to do, but very exciting nonetheless. Wounded lions will only be pushed so far, before they will turn and fight. If they have the strength, and if you don’t kill them first, their pain and fear will turn to anger, and they will come for you.

Both of my lions led us into and through the worst kind of thick scrub and brush imaginable, in one case over many tense minutes, and in the other, for many tense days. But both times, after much difficult tracking and pushing and circling and stalking, and with much help and luck, I was able to find and finish them.

Both times, we tracked, stalked, caught up to and killed my lions at close range. I killed my first lion after a forty five minute chase, with a snap shot that raked him through the vitals as he ran quartering away from us at fifteen yards. That shot killed him. But he ran into the elephant grass along the river bank and growled sickly, and we didn’t know whether he was truly dead, or whether he was waiting with fight left in him and would come for us. It took us the better part of another thirty tense minutes before one of our trackers finally found him stretched out prone in the tall grass.

My second lion was much more difficult. I killed him only after several days of continuous hot pursuit, with time taken out only for what sleep and refreshment we could snatch between sundown and sun-up. We finally pushed him into the open, and I put him down behind a thorn bush with a running shot as he quartered away at sixty yards. We thought he was dead at last, but as my PH and I approached him, we were shocked to see him leap to his feet with a short, guttural roar and come for us. Together, we stopped his last charge with two bullets fired simultaneously into his chest at less than twenty yards distance.

I am trying to find the time and wit to write all of this down, in a more detailed form that does better justice to the stories and pays proper respect to the lions I killed. I have begun to do that, but much work remains to be done. I think that these lion stories, and perhaps some of my other stories, might make a good read some day for those interested in African dangerous game hunting.

My first lion was a huge, but scruffy-maned, buffalo-fed bruiser. I killed him in the Selous, in Tanzania. My PH was Luís Pedro de Sá e Mello, of Tanganyika Wildlife Safari. I think this lion was on the younger side of six years old, although by how much I couldn't say, so by today's rules he might not be shootable. Still, he was a difficult and worthy adversary.



My second big cat was an even larger, MGM-maned, livestock killing, branded, collared and government-declared problem lion. I killed him in Namibia, just to the north of Etosha National Park. My PH was Vaughan Fulton, of Classic Safaris. This lion was a true monster. A better one I doubt I will ever see.

MR,

Sincere thanks for sharing. No disrespect to anyone else's lion. But that is one fantastic lion you bagged with Vaughan; all the more meaningful that it was bagged in a stalking hunt. Truly a fantastic trophy. Congratulations.

Steve,

Please! No troll attacks. If I was planning on shooting a lion over bait an illuminated reticle scope would be ideal. It is easy to judgetmental about someones' tactics (especially if you have never bagged a lion)!
More info from those of you that have bagged them please! Hugh[/QUOTE]

Hugh, I just asked what time of day ..nothing more nothing less..I use this board to learn and to prepare for my upcoming trip. steve[/QUOTE]


Steve, Steve, Steve....

Uncle Remus (Hugo www.com) is talking and COMMANDS this thread subject with no time to answer questions from the unwashed. You are not worthy. Listen up!

S.C.I. type, in full Regalia, no doubt and part of "The Georgia gang of 4".

HughBoy F*ck U and your attitude. Your lions, too.

DB

Dungbeetle,

Sorry if I or this thread that I started have somehow offended you. I hope to one day be able to hunt lion (if I can afford it)and want to learn as much as possible from succesful lion hunters. I encouraged feedback on the subject from all that would give it.

I am sorry all you have to offer is a personal attack. Have a nice day!

No offense taken from the thread subject at all. Just your reference to a troll attack from someone asking an honest question and "wanting to learn", much like yourself and just as you've said here.

I'm having a great day, Hugo and hope you are, too.


DB

Hugh,

I appreciate the PM. My apologies for firing off at you.

DB

I suppose I have been lucky. I have shot 5 lions. Plus I have been in on the killing of 2 others(that my sons shot
and mortally wounded).

Of these 5 lions, 4 were killed with a custom .416 Remington magnum. One was killed with a Heym .470 Nitro Express.

One was killed in one of the Moyowasi areas in Tanzania. Three were killed in Zimbabwe. The last one was killed in South Africa.

The Tanzania cat and the RSA cat were both tracked. Sort of.

We were riding in the truck in Tanzania. Came onto a small dry pan. In the middle of this pan was an enormous buffalo that had been chased by a lion. The buff has broke through the dry crust and was stuck. The lion was eating him while he was still alive. As one can imagine, this was quite a sight.

The lion ran off. We followed on foot. The lion did not go far as he had gorged himself. After a few hundred yards he holed up in a bush. I spotted him at about 20 yards and let him have it with a 416. One shot. He was done. The PH on that hunt was Geoff Wainwright.

The last lion I shot was in the RSA with PH Paul Phelan. It was relatively simple. We saw the tracks. Got out and followed. In less than an hour,we came onto the lion. I shot him right in the chest shortly before (what I believe) he came for us. He was a monster.

Now none of those match the excitement of the other 3. I shot them all in one night. Yes, I said at night Before you condemn this, hear the story.

I was hunting in Zim with a good friend and great PH, Wayne Jardine. I had my 2 sons along. It has been a long time ago but I think my oldest was 12. That would have been 10 years ago.

We were out chasing warthog and kudu. A call came in over the radio. A bunch of lions killed some cattle on another ranch and got after one of the herd boys. They wanted us to come and sort them out.

We got there. I was concerned. This was thick stuff. I thought there were 5 lions. Wayne said there were 6. I vetoed the tracking with my 12 year old along. Simply too dangerous. We took him back to the camp while the one dead cow was wired to a tree and a blind was built.As soon as the blind was finished, we got in and waited.

It had gotten good and dark when I heard a ardwolf sound off. This caused the PH to touch my leg to alert me. Trust me, I was alert already. Shortly thereafter, we herd buffalo take off. I was sure they were coming. I was right. Shortly thereafter, I heard the bushes placed over the dead cow being moved. Almost immediately thereafter, I could hear the meat being ripped from the cow and the wire straining. I was given the signal. The light came on. Sure enough there were 6 lions. Now this was not a trophy hunt. I shot the closest lion right through the shoulders. They all took off. We could hear growling and snarling. Then all was quiet again.

We sat there in the dark. About 5 minutes later, the lions were back. On came the light. Now there were only 5 lions. Again, I shot the closest, right square in the chest. This caused an awful lot of growling as well as the lion flipping in the air.

Off went the lights. Maybe 5 minutes later, they were back. Now there were 4 lions. Again, I shot the closest one. I shot for a chest shot again. The lion was clearly hit. There were lions scattering everywhere. As one can imagine, lots of noise.

I told them that I did not really want to shoot any more lions. This is when the real fun started.

Wayne tried to radio his tracker,Judea Ndou. Guess what? The radio was dead. After much discussion, it was decided to walk out. Oh boy. I could hardly wait for this. I was terrified.

Well we got started and we started to have problems with the lights. Just about the same time the lions let us know they were most unhappy with our presence. We had no way of knowing if any of the lions I shot were dead or wounded. We got together in a bunch. Two of us looking toward the lion sounds. One looking behind. At this point, the best lights we had were a couple of minimag lights with new batteries. I just knew someone was going to get it. I will not fill this with false bravado, I was scared. Real scared.

Some how we got around the lions and were walking to this road in the dark. We were being guided by the of the boys that worked on the ranch. Thank goodness I was smart enough to watch the sky. This terrified boy had lead us in a circle. I stopped the proceeding to point this out. I turned the light on. We were not 50 feet from the blind. And now the lions were sounding off again. Close. Real close.

I am not one for political correctness on a good day. And this wasn't a good day. I threatened to kill the boy if he did not get us to the road. It was amazing. He got us to the road. We walked several miles to the farm house. Met the owner. A nice old timer named Tom Chatham, who I am told has been mauled by lions more than anyone alive. I could tell the story scared the hell out of Mr Chatham. He said we would be crazy to go back at night. I agreed. They sent a vehicle to fetch our truck and off we go to our camp.

Next morning we have breakfast and take off to meet Mr Chatham and his son. We drive to the dead cow and look around carefully from the truck. I can see 1 dead lion from the truck. It was the first lion. Shot square through the shoulders. In a few seconds, I spot a second dead lion. Shot square in the chest. Neither one of these lions went 50 yards.

There was no sign of the third lion. We looked for a long time. Finally, I spotted 1 drop of blood and summoned Wayne. It was by a strange spoor. I had a pretty good idea but was not certain. When Wayne saw this, all he said was "Oh shit." I had not hit this lion in the chest. I smashed one shoulder and the bullet never went into the body cavity. The fun was on.

We started following. Tracker just ahead of Wayne and I. A camera man following us. Mr Chatham and his son following us off to one side and behind. It was unbelieveable. The things you heard, saw and smelled one would never notice on a a normal day. I was shocked at how alert my senses were.

We followed the spoor a few hundred yards. I had spotted this clump of bushes ahead of us. I could not take my eyes off of the bushes. I KNEW the lion was in there. I KNEW he was going to wait until we were right there and come after us.

How did I know this? I have no idea. But I knew. It most have aroused some primative instinct. I was partially wrong. The lion was there. However,he did not wait for us to get super close.

We were about 30 yards away. I continued staring at the bush. I saw something move which I realized was the lions tail. Before I could alert Wayne (who had seen it on his own), the lion took an intense dislike for me. There was a loud growl and he was over the bushes coming straight for me.

I shot and Wayne shot at just about the same time. We both hit the lion. Did he stop? Oh hell no. He was coming right for me. I must have set a worlds record for working the bolt of my gun. I shot again at the extreme long range of 6 feet. This stopped him but he wasn't dead. Wayne shot again as well when the lion was right in front of me. He was still moving. I have this personal ritual with dangerous game. If they are moving at all. I keep shooting. I shot that bastard 2 more times right there in front of me.

After I was sure he was done. I turned around to look at the cameraman. He had not run. Got it all on film. He said, "My son, that was some serious shooting and some serious balls."

I have left out one minor detail. In a
Africa, I always have a tootsie roll pop in my mouth as mouth gets so dry. This was an endless source of humor for the cameraman. As I turned around to check on him, he saw I still had the thing in my mouth. At first he laughed. He could not understand how I cursed so much with that thing in my mouth.Then he asked me to hold it up so he could film it.I was shaking so bad ly I could not hold it still.

I was wondering. Do you guys think I could get some endorsement money from Tootsie Roll Pops if I produce a picture? LOL.

I am off to Tanzania ina few months for my 6th and maybe last lion.

excellent stories..thank you

Excellent stories guys,

I have heard comments from some that say the lion has no fear of man and as such is very easy to get onto and kill. These stories definately refute that theory!!

Even with no experience of dangerous game reading this is giving me that dreamy far away feel....

Thanks again,
FB

Great stories guys!

Larry, were any of the three lions males?

Yes, 2 of the 3 were males. No appreciable mane on any of them.

Dave, Larry, Mike, UEG great reading...Putting down in words what one feels is hard at best...But be assured it is burned in one's mind and soul forever..
Hopefully my time will come...14 weeks but who's counting...

Mike