A recent post about game scouts got me curious about your experiences. I know there are some great stories out there with more than a few AKs being fired.

The only interesting thing I had happen was when we were sliding down a rocky escarmpment and the scout dropped his AK47 and it slid all the way down the rocks BEHIND us. Everyone cringed but it was not chambered at the time although the clip was full. Also found it interesting that the scouts name was Nawena (not sure of the spelling) but it basically means "we win".

When we began our final stalk on the tuskless cow that I shot, the PH, Buzz Charlton, stopped the game scout and made it a point to tell him in no uncertain terms that he did not want him to (i) load his AK-47, or (ii) consider using his AK-47. There was really no need to worry, a couple of days later we were given a mock charge by a young bull and it took us five minutes after shouting the bull down to find the game scout. Buzz said one of the worst sounds you can hear is the sound of that AK-47 bolt being racked back while the game scout is behind you.

All that said, the game scout was a great fellow and really chipped in and helped out with the tracking, cutting roads, skinning, etc. We were lucky, I understand that some of the game scouts can be a royal pain.

Mike,

Buzz told you that because that's exactly what the game scout did to me in 2005 when we got charged by a big tuskless matriarch. As the cow came at us screaming and slapping ears Buzz began shouting her down as we eased away with a short cliff behind us.

I heard "the sound" and turned around to see the game scout's AK pointed right at me.

I took my attention off the cow right then and there.

I believe this was the first field trip for our game scout, he was very green in the field.

One thing you are certain to come away with when hunting with Buzz is a story to tell back home.

I believe Alan Shearing had an AK discharged next to his ear during a charge this year. Was that with you Lee?

Ann,

I think you are right, I recall Buzz telling me that story. Something to the effect that he would rather take his chances with the elephant than be shot in the back by the game scout. I was more worried that the game scout would simply piss the elephant off with the 7.62x39 rounds and then we really would have a problem.

Last month we hunted in Zim and the game scout was very helpful carrying my heavy Ruger .416 much of the time (he had no weapon of his own). The PH wounded a cow buffalo and we followed up. She was sneaking along and turned to face us. At that point the game scout turned and ran as fast as possible in the opposite direction. Since I am old and a little fat, I didn't try to follow him. I WAS carrying my Ruger.

In the Summer of 05 I was hunting buffalo with my best friend Todd and my wife up in Dande North with John Sharp. My wife was worn out near lunchtime, so John asked the Scout, named "Peace" (and no doubt Shootaway's long lost "kinfolk in the woodpile" ) to escort memsaab and my friend back to the Toyota while we checked out one possible fresh spoor. The truck was probably less than a "klick" away. After abut 10 minutes the spoor didn't pay out so we made our way back to the truck in about 10 minutes.

They were nowhere to be found. Three agonizing hours later, and after organizing a search party with the help of folks from Swainson Safaris, they turned up. The IDIOT game scout who is supposed to be the "expert" on the lay of the land, had no clue. It was only thanks to my friend Todd's aviator skills of dead reckoning they eventually found the road. And of course just prior, he cooked off a burst of AK fire to let us know where he was. Brilliant. Needless to say, John had his ass. He was pretty much a worthless POS. jorge

I would not have wanted to be John's scout in that situation!

One evening in area where we had seen a lot of leopard tracks, the tracker and I were waiting for the PH to get back with the truck. I was after the sun had gone down so it was dark and we were talking about leopard attacks. He told me that if a leopard came to lay down and remain still and the leopard would not bother me. I have been wondering if this was true or it was the trackers plan to be able to run away while the leopard was eating me?

If you see this guy, do not ask for directions:



That guy was our game scout in Makuti. He had been on other hunts in that concession, whereas Myles (McCallum) had not been on parts of it since it was a citizen's hunting area, before it became a designated safari block.

The day we killed the first elephant, we had sent the Land Cruiser on ahead to meet us on the edge of the concession as we were following a drainage (river bed) to the concession boundary. The game scout said we could do it in three hours...The plan changed once we were successful. By then we had passed a leopard kill (based on the scent) and flushed two cape buffalo from the long grass while following a small group of elephant. The second buffalo was spectacular and they both crossed about fifty yards in front of us -- but I was not hunting buffalo.

We followed the elephants out of the river bed and uphill for a ways, but they did not slow down and we decided to call it off. As we did, we saw another group across the drainage, including the one we were looking for. More walking and climbing and we closed on them, took the one we wanted, ran from the others, and then I thought we were done. I was exhausted from the walking, running, and climbing, probably still a bit tired from the long trip over, and was congratulating myself that the road ran not too far from the river bed and I could soon relax.

There was one slight hitch. The driver and the Land Cruiser had been sent far ahead, out of range of the radio. We walked down the river and then up a hill to make radio contact. Turns out the driver had gotten confused (it was his first time in the bush) and stopped on a lookout point about half way to the rendezvous point. The helpful game scout piped up and said that it would take too long to send the Land Cruiser back around to where it had dropped us, then go back to camp for the skinners, and return to the elephant, but that we could walk to the truck in about an hour. "Sure?" asked Myles. "Sure" came the reply. He pointed to a "hill" in the distance -- the truck was by that hill.

So it began. We walked and walked. There is barely enough flat ground in this concession for a decent soccer field, so for every step down you have one coming back up. After a long time, more than an hour for sure, we came to the foot of the "hill" which looked a lot like a mountain by this time.

"So the truck is just around the side of this hill?" I asked Myles.

"Not exactly," he replied, "on top."

At this point we had basically dropped off the Zambezi Escarpment almost to the floor of the Zambezi Valley, and it seemed a lot closer to me to just walk to the office at Mana Pool National Park, or even Zambia, than to climb that steep hill. Myles seemed to disagree. Apparently the only way out was "up".

I had walked five miles a day carrying a ten-pound dumbbell to get ready for this trip. I had walked the stairs from the parking garage up to my 15th floor office to get ready, but I was exhausted. It was around noon, and we had been walking most of the day. They gave me a liter of water and Myles told a charming story of a client's son who had hurt his ankle and refused to walk out. It took a crew five hours to cut a road in to him.

I offered to let them shoot me there and let my wife know where the body was buried, but they declined and up we went. At times it was so steep we were using all fours to keep going. I really could not feel my legs and there was nothing left in them, like someone had hit me on the chin -- that was how weak they were. Every time I finally gave up and stopped to rest they gave me another liter of water and egged me on. Myles took lots of pictures on the way up. I think he must have deleted the ones where I saluted with the wrong finger!

After a loooong time I made it to the top of the "hill." Hmmm...no truck.

I asked where the Land Cruiser was. Oh, it is not on this hill, but the next one. More funny language from the American client, more liters of water, and then we made it up the next hill. The trackers had gotten smart and were trying to pick a side hill route so we did not have to lose and gain all the elevation, but is was still a long haul.

We made the crest of the next hill. No truck.

"Where?" "Oh, it is on that hill." Points to next hill.

More water, more language, more scrambling and crawling.

Finally we got to a little bowl close to the top of the third hill, and there is the driver with a Powerade (I had asked if they had any sports drinks when booking the hunt and after a week' searching they had found one six-pack in Harare). That hit the spot and I managed to get to the top where the truck was parked just as the sun was going down. I was not sure I had enough energy left to step up into the truck, but I made it. I would still be on that hill somewhere if Sam (the driver) had not helped me up the last steep part.

We were about five and a half hours on that short cut. It was dark and I was exhausted.

What did I learn? When you ask how far it is to the truck, and someone says "Not far," pack a lunch.

At least they did not have to cut a road in just for me...

Sorry for the long story -- it was a long day, but I survived!

Except for his sense of direction and spatial relationships, one discussion about the proper time and place for a lunch break, and one poorly-timed decision to load the AK (while an unhappy ele was close by…), he was actually a very helpful game scout. Just do not ask him for directions.

Some pictures:

A Water Break (Do I Look Happy?)



Up to the Top of the "Hill"



A View from the Top of the Escarpment to the Valley Floor (Zambia is in the Distance)



[Click pictures for larger versions.]

Charles' death march happened while I was hunting in the same area...same camp in fact. I know it is terrible to admit, but it was really quite funny Charles...since it wasn't me!

Our scout didn't know as much about the area either. Maybe we both got a couple of newbies out of the same office at the same time?

Ooo, I know what you mean about the scouts and lunch breaks. Ours got a chewing from the PH over that one! I thought I was going to have to excuse myself from the area when that happened.

quote:

Ooo, I know what you mean about the scouts and lunch breaks.

We got it sorted pretty fast and no more problems after that.

It was funny to see him checking his text messages whenever we stopped to find the trail.

You didn't tell me that about the text messaging. Weird.

I've been on two safaris in Zim and have never seen a game scout. Each time the PH (reputable and well known outfit) said none were available for that time period.

How common is that?

Kyler

Depends on what area you were hunting in. Charles and I hunted in Makuti which requires signing in at the Parks office and getting a scout assigned to you. I haven't hunted other areas like CAMPFIR.

I've been on four safaris in Zim. Three of the times, the game scouts were quite professional and were a real part of the safari, tracking, loading game on the truck, etc.

It is a hoot to see the guns that they carry. Once, we had a guy with an FN Mauser in .375 that I'd love to have bought, but usually, AK's or SKS's that look like they spend a week in a concrete mixer with 50 pounds of rocks.

The best story was the night when we ran out of gas in the middle of Lake Kariba. We could see the camp lights (where another boat was located), but couldn't raise them by shouting. The game scout fired a shot in the air with his AK. "Shoot again", we all exclaimed when no response was had. The scout declined since he wanted to save his only other bullet.

I have found the older game scouts to be good and the younger Chaps a bit of a worry (a bit like our Council inspectors on Aus building sights).
Once had a GS rest his AK on its magazine(as a single leg) and use the rifle as a seat.

ozhunter