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Photo from 2006 Tanzanian Safari. Buffalo taken at 15 yards after following the sounds of the herd for 30 minutes in the long grass. We tromped the grass down for photos:  Steve "He wins the most, who honour saves. Success is not the test." Ryan "Those who vote decide nothing. Those who count the vote decide everything." Stalin Tanzania 06 Argentina08 Argentina Australia06 Argentina 07 Namibia Arnhemland10 Belize2011 Moz04 Moz 09 | ||
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Lot's of fun, been there, done that.  Frank "I don't know what there is about buffalo that frightens me so.....He looks like he hates you personally. He looks like you owe him money." - Robert Ruark, Horn of the Hunter, 1953 NRA Life, SAF Life, CRPA Life, DRSS lite | |||
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Reminds me of a buff hunt some 28 years ago, with a little fellow, Dr Charlie Weaver. I noticed some tick birds dropping into some long grass, and figuring it may be a lone bull or two decided to take a look. Im 6'2" and Charlie was about 4'2' (minor exaggeration, but you get the point). When we had stalked to, as it turned out, about 15 yards, I got Charlie to go in front of me, for good reason. If the buff was a great trophy, the he may need to act quickly in taking his shot. Needless to say Charlie was against this plan of attack, and had us all in fits of laughter later that evening as we reminded him of his unwillingness to take the lead. It took almost 30 minutes to cover another 5yards with Carlie "on point", egged on by ever increasing firm nudges between his shoulder blades. I reassured him that if things went haywire I could simply take my shots from above his head !!! When we came through that last clump of tall grass the old bull lay quietly, chewing his cud, with not a care in the world for us or anything I suppose. He was a grand trophy as it turned out, and Dr Carlie Weaver performed in an exemplarary manner, taking his shot before the buff knew we existed. Charlie's excitement last the entire day, and well into the night, but the image of me egging this little man forward will stay with me forever. Charlie recorded his gratitude in my small visitors book, finishing off with, "........ made Capsticks Death in The Long Grass, come alive." | |||
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Capsticks DEATH IN THE LONG GRASS was given to me by the husband of a lady who worked for me. It was instrumental in my going to Africa! God knows how many times we got into horrible long grass with buffalo! We had occasions where they were passing so close to us if we stretched our guns forward we could touch them! We had occasions were they were running all around us! Each was waiting for a scream of one of us being run over. That is why I take buffalo hunting as it comes. From shooting one on one side of a tree and you on the other. To chasing them for hours and catching them passing a clearing 300 yards away and the only shot you get is up the rear end of one. Running those 300 yards only takes a few minutes, and smiles are big when you see the bull lying down, already dead!  | |||
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Adding to my short story above, was an equally enjoyable buffalo hunt with Charlie's hunting buddy, whose name eludes me right now, but recall him being of German descent, way taller too, carrying excess weight but just as enthusiastic of his hunt. Unfortunately his misplaced shot resulted in miles and miles of tracking, not in the Chete area, but a tad north, but still in the stifling heat that the Kariba shoreline throws at you. It was to be 7 hard hours before we could finally end the hunt. Unbeknownst to Charlie was that I had dispatched my driver to collect the vehicle, for I knew the area we were headed and figured we could save valuable energy getting the car closer, as well as replenish the lake-load of fluid we had already lost in sweat !!! It was whilst finishing off with the customary photographs that we heard a faint tune being whistled followed by Million carrying a small toolbox with ice cold drinks. The vehicle was a few hundred meters away in a small valley. Old Charlie was at it again as he retorted, "Bloody Africa !!! Seven hours hiking to God knows where, and some whistling soul arrives with some ice cold Diet Coke !!!" What a life it's been. | |||
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We were hunting in Westwood, on the Zambezi River. We went after lunch to a herd of buffalo we left in the morning. The buffalo headed into the hills, away from the river. We sent the truck to meet us on the other side of the hills, and we followed. It was myself, our trackers, a girlfriend I had and Roy and the game scout. The girl could not keep up, and the game scout stayed with her. We went ahead, and found the buffalo made a detour and changed directions. We got back to the river, but no girlfriend or game scout. The camp was a few miles away. Roy suggested that I wait for my girlfriend while he goes back to camp and bring the other truck. I sat by the road close to the river. I had a 416 Weatherby rifle, and as dark came, I kept hearing all sorts of animals moving about. The rifle was useless, as it was pitch black. I decided to walk back to camp. After a while I could see lights coming. I stood in the middle of the road. It was Rene, with my girlfriend, came looking for us. Roy has not made it to camp yet. Got into the truck, got a cold drink and went to camp! | |||
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Buffalo in the grass is a hoot. I'll always remember the sound of a herd when they spook and not knowing which way they are running at first. As Saeed said, sometimes it's away, and sometimes it's right past you. | |||
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And at that point, your sphincters' are shut so tight you couldn't pass gas even if you had diarrhea!  …………………………......…........   MacD37....Mac >>>===(x)===> MacD37, ...and DUGABOY1 DRSS Charter member "If I die today, I've had a life well spent, for I've been to see the Elephant, and smelled the smoke of Africa!"~ME 1982 Hands of Old Elmer Keith  | |||
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In 2008, I hunted with Nigel Archer (Tony's son) in the Selous. The grass was still very tall and we were burning as we went. Many close encounters with herds in the tall grass. When they spook, it starts low and grows to a crescendo. You only see them if they are coming back in your direction. We also hunted herds in thick riverine crud and bumped elephants nearly every day way back then. (Things change fast in Africa). We had a female game scout (my first). She became physically ill at one point and wouldn't leave the gharri after that, which in her case was for the best. Fortunately, she was also terrified of the Mauser .458 issued to her and never carried it with a round in the chamber. Have had female game scouts since who were stellar. That was the year Hurricane Ike hit Houston and barely made it back before it hit. Haven't hunted buffalo since 2017 and having serious withdrawal. Booked for next year with four on ticket. Can't wait. | |||
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We followed a herd of buffalo into very thick grass - one cannot see 1 foot in front of him. And as we tried moving very slowly and watching the grass movement, I noticed a moving BUSH! Bushes do move their branches as they are passed by the buffalo, but this bush was actually moving from its place! We stopped to look, and were totally mesmerized by the bush moving towards us??!! We waited. When the bush arrived, we discovered it was our game scout! He cut some branches, wrapped them around him, and started walking!! | |||
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Your scouts do sometimes come with their own stories. We followed a wounded lion one morning, resulting in the inevitable charge. Concentrating on this and dispatching favourably, I was well aware of the sound of an AK from behind us, knowing full well who was in possession of it too. Thankfully we all came out of this without a scratch. The game scout however, was not to be seen. Once he did join our posse I confronted him over his actions, and why he was firing his weapon nonchalantly into the air, whilst running away? He gave the honest answer that he was petrified of lions, and for good reason. He showed the scars on his right shoulder of when a lion had dragged him out of his sleeping bag while on a night patrol. I understood. | |||
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We make sure no game scout comes anywhere near us when we have to follow a wounded animal, just to avoid this. We had a very tall tracker - nicknamed Twiga, giraffe! We followed a herd of buffalo, and we got practically on top of them! Some were no more than 20 paces from us. They were punched up in long grass, and we were slightly above them. All I could see was the tips of their horns! Twiga put the shooting sticks up, and was waiting for me to shoot. Then we saw why they were all bunched up like that! They were being surrounded by lions!! I saw a lioness between us and them, and to;d Twiga! He said “forget the lions. Shoot the buffalo” They ran off without us getting a shot. Twiga had no fear of anything. Except elephants! Apparent7one killed a relative of his. | |||
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Steve416 with a good buff taken in the long grass  ROYAL KAFUE LTD Email - kafueroyal@gmail.com Tel/Whatsapp (00260) 975315144 Instagram - kafueroyal | |||
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Saeed ----- I had the privilege of having Twiga track for me on my Safari. We had to come back a second day to track and only he could find the blood trail in the thick jess and grass. The other three trackers, one of which was a Masai like Twiga followed him and his instructions. I will always remember him as being "Africa" since that hunt. He made me a bracelet out of Hippo hide to remember the hunt. Good shooting. phurley | |||
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Great stories! They ring bells, and even set off sirens! I will find some photos and add them when able. Nothing will pump your blood harder and faster than making or following tunnels through tall grass with buffalo ahead and unseen. Mike Wilderness is my cathedral, and hunting is my prayer. | |||
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Following a wounded lion gets even more exciting! | |||
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Apparently one of the most exiting things that can happen on safari is when they go to find a “dead” croc in the water that is not dead! It is really incredible to see the most fantastic scene one can ever imagine! A number of people, client, professional hunter, trackers and a game scout! How they manage to have instantaneous communications in total harmony, and actually RUN on water. NOT in water, but ON water! Osain Bolt lost his Olympic record to every single one of them!  | |||
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Buffalo in the long grass...uphill, in the snow. | |||
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My experience with buffalo in long grass happened on my 1st buff hunt and in Dande North with Dean Kendall. We were on a bluff over looking a dry, but very grassy valley about 150 yards wide. The valley was actually a very dried up creek bed with grass about 5' high. Dean spotted a small group that just started into the high grass and said we could head them off at the end of area we could see. We climbed down into the grass but found there was no real end to the grass. We were standing in the middle of it, discussing our situation when Bongoni (tracker) started backing out. I looked at him, then Dean, then could hear the buffalo slowly working toward us. Dean gave me the "low hand" signal just to stand still and listen. He mouthed "there is a bull". Being a newby, I slowly but noisily put one in the chamber, dialed the scope to 2.5 and waited. In a matter of seconds, the buffalo noise stopped and we had silence except for heavy breathing. I thought it was me or Dean or the trackers. Turns out, the buff were very close and I was hearing them. In ten seconds or 10 minutes, about the amount of time it takes for them to smell me - they got excited and started the Mexican hat dance in the grass, running in a variety of directions. At this, I did not know where to run other than to stand still and hope I am not noticed. Well, at 6'4" and 250lbs I am not dainty and not fast. In short order, I started seeing parts of buffalo run by me. Then a cow's head appeared about the length of my rifle in front of me. Her eyes went wide and mine went faint. She pivoted away with a calf in tow. I thought I had been gored or scratched or whatever, but no blood showed up except from my nose from jamming my rifle into my face. In about 30 seconds, silence again, and a I breathed. Dean looked over and said, "Well, you have now seen them up close". And we started our stalk..... Bongoni, who spoke no English, but understands body language in all dialects, pointed at my shirt and notice I sweated it completely thru and was dripping into my my shoes.... He thought that was funny.... Later, I told Dean that I had not paid for that much excitement or proximity to live buffalo.... | |||
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Dean seems to attract excitement on safari. On one of our hunts he was hunting with a friend, and had to shoot s charging buffalo. On another, he was hunting with still another friend. They were following a herd of buffalo, and managed to catch up with them. They were in the process of trying to pick a bull, when suddenly there was a shot! What happened was we saw the buffalo, and unknown to us that they were after them. It just so happened that a good bull was looking at us from about 200 yards. I shot him in the middle of his chest, dropping him right where he stood. As we walked to the buffalo, we saw Dean and Chris! | |||
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Thanks, Steve, for getting these stories started, and waking up some memories. This one I shot while he was facing us, flanked by two other dugga boys, from about 35 yards. I shot him square in the chest. He flinched and ran into the elephant grass. The fun was in finding him. He bellowed when he blew out his last breath, which made things a little less tense. But we still didn't really know where the other two bulls had ended up. Our excellent Maasai trackers, all pictured, Lengaisi, Ngossoro, and Kayai, and our driver, Nchimbi, in the rear, had to use pangas to cut down the grass for this photo.  This was seventeen years ago, in the Selous. Mike Wilderness is my cathedral, and hunting is my prayer. | |||
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These are from the far eastern Caprivi.    Stalking buffalo through the swamps with my son and Vaughan Fulton, about eleven years ago. They made tunnels. We could hear them, but we could not see them until it was time to shoot, or not, right now. Mike Wilderness is my cathedral, and hunting is my prayer. | |||
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Where is Vaughn these days? | |||
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We need to go back and find his grandkids. That is a super buffalo.... | |||
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Ross, I don't know what Vaughan is doing these days. I know that the global economic crisis really hurt his operation. Unfortunately, we have lost touch over the years. He is a fine man and a terrific PH. I hope he is healthy and happy, and doing well. That Selous bull is probably the best I have taken. He and another one are on the wall of my office in Boston. Mike Wilderness is my cathedral, and hunting is my prayer. | |||
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Nice buffalo! Looks like it was a exciting hunt. I read where you shot him square on in the chest as he was facing you. I have not had the best results with that shot on buffalo. Curious what your bolt rifle was chambered in and what bullet you were using. | |||
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Thanks, 4WD. My rifle was chambered in .458 Lott. I used a 500 grain Woodleigh Weldcore soft at 2,300 fps MV. It penetrated the buff’s heart and drove deep into his guts. It expanded to over 80 caliber and retained about 70 percent of its weight, IIRC. Still it did not drop him where he stood. They are tough. Mike Wilderness is my cathedral, and hunting is my prayer. | |||
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Ross Seyfried used to preach, “Shoot for bone.” I agree with that advice 100%. But one can’t do that with every lethal shot opportunity. Mike Wilderness is my cathedral, and hunting is my prayer. | |||
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Brain or spine is the only way to stop them "right now," aye. Even when you shatter the heaviest bone in the cape buffalo's body (shoulder, humerus) and pierce the heart and lungs all with one shot, they still launch themselves like rockets, run 50 yards and die. Fortunately, they usually go away from the shooter. I did that shot with a .416/ 380-gr GSC FN at 2506 fps MV from about 50 to 80 yards range in an Okovango mopane thicket in 2001. Tanzania 2010: Ditto with a .510/ 450-gr GSC HV at 2650 fps MV at similar range at the edge of the Tall Grass toward which he ran.   That shot was taken on Saeed's 2010 Tanzania Expedition: The offside (right) shoulder was broken, the one that stayed low when he bucked with a tilt toward the broken shoulder. Same results each time, a 50-yard dash on 3 legs then a death bellow. My first in Botswana 2001, Boddington-style pose, for the glory of horn spread:  I bet the same result comes with same placement of a .375/ 300-gr monometal copper bullet at 2740 fps MV. All that is old hat, aye. Here is the new hat to be field tested: Ditto the cape buffalo results with a .458/ 400-gr monometal copper bullet at 2600 fps MV from the .458 WIN+P. It is funny how when you load a SAAMI-chambered .458 Winchester Magnum (allowing longer COL for creation of .458 WIN+P loads) with a maximum load for SAAMI-standard .458 Lott ammunition, using drop-tubed and compressed extruded powder or non-compressed ball powder, you get higher velocity or lower pressure or both. The .458 WIN+P has greater efficiency than the .458 Lott. THROAT. 8 year ride:   Rip ... | |||
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...both ways Frank "I don't know what there is about buffalo that frightens me so.....He looks like he hates you personally. He looks like you owe him money." - Robert Ruark, Horn of the Hunter, 1953 NRA Life, SAF Life, CRPA Life, DRSS lite | |||
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Hunting in Salambala, Caprivi, with Kobus Honibal and Byron Hart, we watched a nice herd of buffalo cross back into Botswana Chobe park every morning, from our over night lion blind. Decided to slip down to the river and wait for them near where they crossed ( not AT the place they crossed, but we misjudged it!) before they arrived to cross one morning. As we are laying on the river bank, glassing the herd, we picked out the best one, in the back of the herd of course. I picked out a slight rise in the ground, thought " I'll shoot him right there". Of course no shot at that spot, covered up by the rest of the group. About the time they get to about 30 yards, Kobus leans over and says in less than a whisper, " We must do something quickly, they are getting quite close". I have not taken my eyes off the intended bull, and indicate I have a shot, between the legs of one, into the chest of the bull, Kobus says no, so I wait. When the group gets about ten yards from us, one of the guys we left at the truck 4-500 yards behind moves to see better, and it makes the bulls uneasy, they won't cross, but start milling around. I never left the bull, by now I am on the scope, and I get a couple foot opening between bulls into the chest, and shoot. You can hear Kobus shout on the video ( I had complete green light to shoot from Kobus after out first couple hunts, it was agreed ahead of time, I can pick a shot when ever I am good with it), don't remember what he said, but he was not expecting it for sure. The bulls ran off up the hill, right towards another truck we had up there ( this hunt had two DG PH's, and three apprentices, plus two full crews of tracker/skinners/drivers) they started a large commotion and the herd veered away from them, but the bull I shot stopped, leaking a lot. He went down and gave the bellow, as we ran to him, no insurance shot taken or needed. All in all was quite an exciting hunt, but instead of a hunt in the long grass, this was a hunt in the NO grass. Other than the bank we lay prone behind, there was zero cover for hundreds of yards. If they had decided to come for us, there was not going to be anywhere to run, hide or climb up. This particular hunt was marked by me always having the wrong rifle for buffalo. I shot this one with a bolt 375 with a scope, rather than the double I would have rather had up close. Several other stalks we had, were the same, had this rifle in hand, but really needed the other one. I am OK with the double out to about 200, but really prefer a scope for past 50-75. I can use a scope inside 20 if I have to, but damn, certainly not the best choice for that. This time, it worked out. Master of Boats, Slayer of Beasts, Charmer of the fair sex, ...... and sometimes changer of the diaper..... | |||
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Master of Boats, Slayer of Beasts, Charmer of the fair sex, ...... and sometimes changer of the diaper..... | |||
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MikeE, I remember well those sandy banks of the Chobe. Nice job nailing a good buff from such an exposed and unforgiving place. The Caprivi was a paradise, compared to the Chobe National Park on the Botswana side of the river, which was an utter wasteland, due to overpopulation of elephant. The big game knew that, and behaved accordingly. Mike Wilderness is my cathedral, and hunting is my prayer. | |||
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