Some chaps have suggested I write something interesting or publish one of my experiences from the field rather than debating potentially controversial issues. I am not the best of writers but will have a crack at it.

The following is an account of a relationship between man and beast and was written up a couple of years ago by Peter Flack of African Hunter 2 fame. The following is the abridged version:

Some years ago Barry Bell Cross (owner of Prohunt Zambia) and I were with our wives fishing the Kafue River in the Lunga Luswishi hunting concession. Whilst parked up in a boat behind an island we heard the distant screaming of elephant, which is a fairly common sound in the bush and thought very little of it. It was some minutes later when we heard the most peculiar sound - a noise than none of us recognised and seemed to be coming from the depths of the river itself. We were soon to witness the most incredible sight of a monstrous crocodile barrelling down the river with an elephant calf between its huge jaws. The sound we had heard was the liquid distress call from the partially submerged elephant.

It was all our instinct to interfere with nature and help the hapless youngster from a certain and gruesome death and with the boat we herded the croc towards the riverbank. To our dismay both the croc and elephant simply vanished under water. Just then the tip of the elephant’s truck broke the surface of the water and Barry did what in my opinion was one of the bravest acts ever to be recorded, he jumped into the swirling waters and grabbed the elephant by the trunk. At that point I had loaded my rifle and was pointing it towards the dark shadow of the ugly reptile under the boat. The river was in flood and the bank now was little more than a swamp, the sunken trees making progress difficult. The ensuing commotion seemed to scare off the croc and we managed twice to get the youngster back on land but only to find that it would follow us back into the water. The girls suggested we try and get it into the boat and take back to camp a suggestion that was ignored by both men. The elephant was a year old and was too bulky to handle and only by grabbing its ears could we drag the unfortunate beast back to dry land. This time my mate and I decided to stay with the elephant for awhile. Apart from a few superficial puncture wounds around its neck and shivering with fear it seemed fine. It was also making cute little murmuring noises and kept nuzzling Barry. It was quite surreal to interact with this little wild thing and we were enjoying the moment then. All hell broke loose when mummy arrived and in the most violent fashion. Note we were distant from the boat and the youngster had attached himself to his new human friends leg. Apart from the dreadful noise I remember seeing bits of tree and other foliage being tossed into the air shortly before the great beasts broke through the cover of the dense bush. I think there were three elephants standing over us but I was focused on the one glaring down at me from a great height. Things were very quiet now and the elephants stood stock still, towering above us whilst the baby continued to nuzzle Barry seemingly unaware of the commotion or indeed the presence of its parents. I desperately wanted my friend to get rid of the damn thing but dare not speak. Barry very slowly untangled himself from his latest acquisition and turned the young animal into a position where he could see what was going on around us. The reaction was instant and with a small squeal the youngster ran the very short distance to its mother. More elephants arrived and they to stood around us watching the great matriarch make her next move. Barry gave me one of those we are fucked looks when the lead elephant turned slowly about and walked the herd back into the trees. She stopped once to have a last long and hard look at us.

I remember hearing the sound of my wife crying as Barry and I did shake hands as only good friends could.

Now and again whilst hunting, elephants and I bump into each other and I often wonder if we have met before.

Nice story!

Brett

At least no one got squashed for their good deed. I think you might worry more about the croc looking for revenge for stealing his meal!

Thank you for sharing a most amazing story!

Jason

quote:

It was quite surreal

You said it. Good story thanks.

You put me there with you. Wow! Only in Africa.

Mark

fairgame,
You remind of my kids when they used to show up at home with a cat, dog, goat or squirrel with the phrase - "can we keep him, he followed us home?"

Good story.

PS - Put the other "pot stirring" to bed, it is beneath you.

That's great! Thank you for sharing.

fairgame,, that story is exactly what I was talking about,, while we are waiting for our time back in the bush,,, stories such as that stoke the embers inside each of us. thanks

A most amazing story, thanks for sharing.

I want to shoot the croc that can drag in and swim with a year old elephant in it's moutn

Outstanding! Thanks for sharing.

That's a great story. We all have heard of the advanced intelligence that ele's have, and I wonder if they might have realized that you saved the little fellow, or more likely, that you weren't intending harm onto him.

Please share a few more stories of your experiences.

Incredible story. And it is stories like these that give me pause to reflect on the intelligence and complicated social bonds that elephants as species have. It is really quite incredible.

That is a great adventure and a riveting story! Thank you for sharing a great story.

Incredible story Elephants are the most amazing animals on earth.

quote:

Originally posted by 505 gibbs:
I want to shoot the croc that can drag in and swim with a year old elephant in it's moutn

505. I have tried on numerous occassion and suspect he may have been shot at before? When croc hunting I always bait this part of the river and suspect he feeds only at night. He lives in a tangle of islands and backwaters and on occasion you will see him. There are many big crocs in the Kafue but he is in a league of his own. Will post a couple of picture of some really big crocs that I have taken when I can figure out how do this. Otherwise I could email them to a member and they can post them on my behalf?

You are an excellent raconteur. That story gave me goose bumps.Thanks for sharing with us.

Best-
Locksley,R

great story

Glad it turned out well for all concerned

How big do you reckon the croc was?

I have heard that story from Barry several times, apparently it really did happen!!

quote:

Originally posted by Aaron Neilson:
I have heard that story from Barry several times, apparently it really did happen!!

The herd seemed to understand that we had done good and the mother obviously witnessed the croc attack. The noises the baby made probably saved our lives but how the mother pin pointed our location is beyond me.

quote:

Originally posted by PSmith:
How big do you reckon the croc was?

Crocs always look huge until you shoot them. We consider a big croc in the Kafue to be 13 feet over the curves and note that unlike the Luangwa the Kafue crocs have tremendous girth. Luangwa crocs tend to be slender. At a rough guess somewhere between 15 and 16 feet which is a fairly accurate measurement as he was along side our 12 foot boat. Like I say we have seen him on a few occasions. Where we are in Luangwa there is also a monster but these really big crocs are almost impossible to shoot.

Here ya go. Andrew and happy client. That thing sure has a set of choppers.

That is an interesting story. You and Barry should contact Richard at AHG, or submit the story to his magazine to get it published.

There are many stories of hunter bravery to save the life of another human, but not enough out there where a brave hunter has intervened to save the life of an animal.

That is a tale that underscores the fact that hunters are conservationists. I doubt if Jack Hanna or any other animal rights activist would have jumped in the water and done the same. I don't have anything against Jack Hanna. But people must understand one day that we're not interested in only killing.

One more thing Fairgame: I nominate you for the Top 10 best/most useful post for this topic. That gives you the rare distinction of being the only person with one of each in both categories; top ten best and worst.

I gotta give it to ya. You know how to make a splash.

Man, look at those chompers, that is the only thing my croc didn't have. I don't know how he ate anything because he had like 1 tooth. Maybe I'll get to go back and wack one with some teeth. OK, nobody laugh...

Wow, what astory!!!
It was so good, my beer got forgot and warm. To be there and not be there!!!

I removed the stick.

505gibbs, I'm still laughing. Awesome croc, looks like you shot the oldest bastard in the river. It's just the way you worded man,funny.
Scott

quote:

Originally posted by 505 gibbs:
Man, look at those chompers, that is the only thing my croc didn't have. I don't know how he ate anything because he had like 1 tooth. Maybe I'll get to go back and wack one with some teeth. OK, nobody laugh...

I took a photo just like that of my croc to give to the taxidermist when I had it mounted. I wanted the mouth done just right! Anyone else ever notice that a crocs mouth is yellow inside? That's a great photo!

Great story. A truly heroic act.

Fairgame,
You are starting to sound like Cynthia Moss

So now we know how to "bait" for elephants!!!

Bwanamitch thats not funny. This is.

The following was published a couple of years ago by Magnum (well worth subscribing to) a popular South African hunting magazine.

It began as a favour for a very good friend of mine. He had this mate from South Africa, Theo, who had hunted a bit at home but was now in Zambia and his greatest desire was to hunt a free ranging Buffalo. However he could not pay safari prices and to cut a long story short I got him a permit to hunt in a very marginal area where the game had been for the most poached out. Hammered as the locals kindly informed me.

The area was south of Petauke amongst the rugged foothills of Luangwa’s escarpments. Fantastic country. En route we had met with the local Chief who had seconded to us an archaic tracker type, a couple of village elders, some porters and a scout we named GPS as he managed to loose himself in a thicket on the first day but eventually found his way back to the nearest beer hall. Then the wizened tracker tried this trick, apparently not wanting anything to do with this dangerous game. Unbeknown to me, he directed us away from waterholes and to the very tops of the mountains, anyplace he thought the buffalo were not. ‘These Mbo (buffalo) are very clever’, he would declare as we stood on the pinnacle of yet another exhausting rock climb. The views however were terrific.

It was starting to get a little tedious and I doubted whether I would be able to fulfil Theo’s dream. Our quarry seemed educated in the ways of hunting and what little spoor we found proved that the Buffalo were moving great distances and at a much greater speed than we. I also had what seemed like four fifths of a decent sized village stumbling behind me. This did not seem to worry my new friend Theo, a very likeable lad, who was in great spirits for he was hunting in God’s country and in his mind, retracing the footsteps of Hemmingway. Besides we finally lucked upon some fresh spoor. What possibly could be better?

Hours later, and with the wind in our faces, I felt that we might at last be getting a little closer. Here the craggy hills were barren but cool, the contours squashed into steep, seemingly vertical walls of rock. In the valleys, dense stands of bamboo grew and it was in one of these groves that the small herd of the Buffalo had rested. The tracks had indicated that the beasts were looking for a place to bed down and for the first time I could smell them. I turned and with my finger silenced Theo’s enthusiastic banter, for I sensed that we were close. The swishing tail of a large buffalo cow brought her into sharp focus, full frame alongside others who lay beyond the vegetation. I was angry with myself. If I’d had a half decent tracker to help me out and if I’d had my wits about me then we would not have been trapped in this crevasse with a dozen Petaukean’s urgently gesturing me to shoot the mother of all these Buffalo. It would be only a matter of seconds before she registered our presence so Theo was quickly placed into a position to shoot a bull if the opportunity presented itself. Maybe he did not hear or understand my request to wait and I was fully unprepared for the hell that let loose in that small ravine deep amongst the pretty hills of Petauke.

I distinctly remember two things; the wooden sound of splintering bamboo and the acrid smell of cordite. Other recollections were the complete absence of Theo and my team, and a feeling of foreboding. I had lost control of this situation and in a very unprofessional hunting like manner. Frantically I tried to seek out the animal that Theo had targeted and witnessed the herd effortlessly crashing up the steep rocky ledge, which as fate would have it, was the same ledge that moments before Theo had sought.

The clarity of the next sequence of events will forever be etched in my mind. As I clambered up the rocks to refrain my disturbed companion, he suddenly about turned, looked me desperately in the eyes, said something in Afrikaans that sounded like fuck that, and proceeded to execute the most perfect dive back into the depths of the stony valley. Closely followed by a thoroughly pissed off buffalo.

The silence that followed my shots was broken only by Theo’s painful sounds of anguish rising from the granite depths of the ravine. After some time the people from Petauke once again gathered and excitedly informed me that the white boy from South Africa had indeed killed his Mbo, with one shot. Mine had taken two.

Bleeding and with a broken foot, my man crawled himself into a slight depression amongst the debris of the bamboo. Admiring his ‘perfect eye shot’ buffalo he smoked a crumpled cigar that his father had given him for this very occasion. While reclining against his soft bossed bull he remarked ‘And that Andrew was the best day of my life’. I still reeling from the excitement of the charge could not agree more.

I had to leave Theo there because of his injuries and cut a road as close as I could get to him. He consumed a bottle of Brandy that night and we carried him out the following morning. Apart from his foot he was none the worse for wear.

I thought it was a lion that had a thorn stuck in its paw. Wasn't that a Disney story?

quote:

Originally posted by Will:
I thought it was a lion that had a thorn stuck in its paw. Wasn't that a Disney story?

Will,

Fancy a bet?

Another big Kafue croc tken with Andrew Baldry

quote:

Originally posted by Slider:
I removed the stick.

Good graphics. Can you stretch the croc to twenty feet?