Snapshots:

Mud and pole huts clustered on bare earth surrounded by rich green fields. Quiet talk around the fire as the trackers and scouts devour boiled chicken and sadza. Not wanting to risk the stringy, undercooked bird, we feed on boiled peanuts, sugar cane, tiny wild plums and roasted maize.

Flashing lightning. Beating pulse of distant drums. Barking dogs. Voices calling out over the crops. Smells of moist earth, cattle, the sharp sweat of the blacks mixed with eye-watering mopane smoke.

The buzz of mosquitos. Enamel pans clanking. The sound of rough hands scouring the cookware with sand in the darkness. The low, throaty rumble of a lion. The greedy sounding "whoop whoop" of a hyena at dawn.

The sharp "crack...crack" of the farmers whip. Chasing off elephants in the night...


We arrive at the homestead at 5:00 PM. Runners are sent to neighboring villages to alert the people of our presence and to instruct them to come for us should elephants arrive. This is our fourth night out in the Gokwe Communal Lands.

After sugar cane and roasted maize washed down with Zambezi Lager and Coke, Brent and I stretch out on foam mattresses, listening to the night sounds and staring up at the brilliant glitter of stars and the faint sliver of a waxing moon.

Chickens are killed and sadza is prepared in a smoky hut, lit only by the cooking fire. The boys feast, mashing huge lumps of sadza into their mouths, smacking their lips on chicken fat, their teeth flashing in the firelight. After clapping their thanks to our hosts, they spread their tarps on the hard ground around the fire and prepare to sleep.

At 9:00 PM there is a commotion. Soft voices in the dark. The fire is now just a pile of glowing embers. Brent: "Let's go, Dave." A voice calls out across the fields. I recognize the word "nzou". Elephant.

I shake off sleep and buckle on my cartridge belt, checking that the .404 rounds are secure in front. William hands me my rifle from the cruiser. I confirm the magazine is full and chamber a round and check the saftey. I grab my flashlight and we move off toward urgent voices in the darkness.

Clouds rolled in while we slept. Lightning flashes on the horizon. We march on urgently in the darkness. No words are spoken.

Ten minutes turn into twenty, then a half hour has passed. We approach one compound, then another. Insistent voices urge us on. Dogs bark and snarl, then yelp at the meaty thud of stones striking, hushing them. I shade my eyes from the glowing fires, trying to keep my eyes adjusted to the dark. Friday leads, then Brent, then me. Two scouts follow. One is armed with a single shot .12 Ga. shotgun loaded with #8's. The other carries an ancient Enfield .303 for which he has only one round. A soft point. Also with us is Phinea, the skinner and a local who steers us toward the voices calling "Nzou...nzou."

We march down paths between the crops, through rows of mealies. I have brief stabs of vertigo as I focus on Brent's back in the darkness. Lightning flashes on the horizon, righting the world for a second.

Mealie stalks snap. We hear the unmistakable sound of the elephants' belly rumbling. We squat, trying to skylight their forms against the bleak light. After long moments, Brent squeezes my arm and whispers to stay close.

Sweat runs down my chest. My shirt sticks to my back. My eyes sting from the sweat and the strain to see into the darkness. Snap. Another mealie stalk breaks. Then another to our left. Three bulls are in the field with us.

The farmer continues his cries at the elephants, but they feed on, ignoring him. The scout insists we are close and wants to turn on the light. Brent hisses to him to be quiet. We move up the path another 15 yards. There. Vaguely silhouetted is a bull, standing broadside, munching mealie stalks. "Can you see him?", Brent whispers. "Yes." "Ready?" I had already flicked off the safety of my rifle and checked that the ivory night sight was flipped up.

We slowly stand up and shoulder our rifles. Friday hits the powerful spotlight. At the shock of the light, the bull turns to face us, ears out. He is 30 yards away. Brent fires, hitting him in the chest and turning him. I find the bull's shoulder and fire, work the bolt and fire again. The elephant runs to our left, toward the farmer's home. Shreiks of fear come from the huts as we continue to fire at the running elephant. Empty. I fumble solids from my belt and load two as I sprint toward the bush, with Friday running alongside. We race to the edge and plunge in. Friday pans the light. We can hear the elephant wheezing from a lung shot. Branches crack in his wake as he stumble forward, then silence. Brent takes up the lead as we follow, expecting a charge from behind every bush.

Suddenly, Brent stops and fires. Seeing the dark form, I step up and fire too, then quickly reload. The bull is finally down. He is in the road on his belly, his legs tucked beneath him, leaning against the single strand of cable marking the boundary of Chirisa Safari Area.

The next morning we arrive at 6:30 to help with the recovery. The spoor inside the fence shows that the bull's partners had come to him in the night, no doubt urging him to stand and run off with them. The locals tell us the elephants stayed all night, roaring and trumpeting.

300 people arrive to haul off flesh and bone. We leave them as they swarm the carcass, knives and axes flashing.

Great story! An activity not for the faint of heart.

David, that was great! A very well written account of an exciting hunt.

Very nicely done: and I mean the hunting, the shooting and the writing.

Excellent story! Very exhilirating! Thanks.

Great story David. Memories to last a lifetime.

Ski+3

Well written and very exciting.

Thanks for sharing. Well told!!

Wow! Awesome story....

Looking forward to hearing about in person in two weeks!

Great story. I hope to have one to tell you about June 15th.

Incredible story Dave.I leave on the 23rd of May to hunt with Brent.

Was the first shot taken by the PH because the elephant seemed agressive, or because the animal must be killed no matter who does it to save crops?
BTW your story telling is as good as your shooting...
You cannot keep the tusks right? How bout tail/feet/ears etc.

David,
Thanks for taking the time to post your experience. Those PAC hunts sound like quite an adventure and a taste of Old Africa. If you ever quit your day job, I think you have a future as an author. Excellent writing and a very unique style. Nice elephant and congratulations.

One heck of a nice story. Thanks Dave.

Great story. That would definitely get the adrenalin going.

Thanks for sharing. That was one of the best written hunting stories I have seen in a long time. I felt like I was right there with you. None of the typical BS.

Great story with some beautiful photos.

Looks like a real "African Thanksgiving" with all those locals butchering the elephant!

Thanks for posting.

Regards,
Dave

Good story David, I like your choice of caliber. What kind of rifle is it?

Fred,

The rifle is a .404 Jeffrey built on a Brno ZKK 602 action with a Lothar Walther barrel finished at 25". Dennis Olson in Montana did the metal work.

I used Woodleigh 400 grain softs and solids and took a buffalo as well as the elephant on my hunt in February.

Fabulous!

Thanks David, can you share some load info. I have been shooting my recently finished M70 in .404 & am working up loads for an upcoming trip to Moz. for buffalo. Currently I am shooting 82gr IMR4831 under a 400gr bullet.

Fred,

I used 82 grains of IMR 4350. Velocity was 2300-2325 FPS on my Chrony. Also experimented with H4350, same load, same results. In my previous post, I indicated I used Woodleigh softs. I was mistaken. I used Swift A-Frames. COAL on the Woodleigh solids was 3.52 and 3.60 on the Swifts. Performance of both bullets was excellent.

I got complete penetration through the shoulders with softs on a buffalo at about 15 yards. He dropped hard on the first shot, then took a couple more finishers as he tried to regain his feet. Can't say I've ever had a one shot kill on a buffalo. I keep throwing lead at them as long as they're moving.

David, one word, WOW! Reading your account sent shivers up and down my spine. Awesome reading and incredible pics. Thanks for sharing.

Rick

Please forgive my ignorance, but what country (and quadrant) were you in? I'm not educated on the various hunting area names, so I would appreciate "SE Zambezi, 300 miles south of XX," or the like.



Thanks!



Great story, BTW. Thanks for sharing.

David,

Looks like you had "gone native" what with wearing the Tevas. I don't know how some of those Zim PHs walk around all day in those sandals. I have a hell of a time with good boots. Great story of a very memorable hunt and good shooting on both critters.

Perry

Thanks David for the info. I gave H4350 a try also, 78gr gives me 2150fps. I like the way the IMR4831 or RL19 fill the case. I am working on loads for the 380grNF as my soft & I have some Barnes 400gr solids. Hopefully they'll shoot close enough to POA. Thanks for sharing a great story & the load info. Good bull BTW.

Trademark,

The hunt took place in Zimbabwe. I hunted buffalo, hippo and crocodile in the Omay Communal Lands, a huge area bordering Lake Kariba. The Omay is situated in the northern half of the country, on the farthest western edge, as Lake Kariba serves as an international boundary between Zim and Zambia.

The elephant hunt took place in an area surrounding Chirisa Safari Area. Chirisa is also located in the northern half of the country, on the Zambezi escarpment, about 100 miles east of Omay and +/- 60 miles southwest of the town of Gokwe. (My mileage numbers aren't exactly accurate because much of the travel in the area is on dirt roads and distance in marked in kilometers, so it is difficult to judge distance.) The hunt took place in the Gokwe Communal Lands, which is a very large rural settlement, with small landholdings allocated by local chiefs.

Perry,

I started wearing Tevas to hunt in 3 safaris ago and have never looked back. They were particularly handy on this trip because of the rain. Three of my animals were shot in the water. I usually go through a couple of pairs a year hunting here in Texas.

DavidW: You have a PM, JLS