Why do we do it?

It was a big herd and at a guess some 150 animals spread out through the scrubby combretum forest. The occasional clack of horn and the deep bovine grunt carried to us in the wind. Today we will do battle. The briefest glimpse of the odd heavy boss indicated some good bulls taking up the rear and it was these animals that had our attention. Casually our quarry started to lumber down and the rest milled around them forming a horseshoe that we would have to enter. Guns now resting across our laps and on our arses and hands we shuffled forward scraping our butts across the sharp burnt stubble. Legs blackened by the burn we inched into the mass. Whilst not the most comfortable of positions it is a good method of stalking and referred to as hoovering. You substantially reduce your profile without loosing visibility. When the buff turns in your direction you simply freeze and sit it out. Using the sparest of cover to block your movement you scrape yourself forward picking dry leaves and stick out of your path. I remember thinking then that a glove would have been a small luxury as I had to carry the sticks in my balled fist. You glass and inch forward, you watch the cows and inch forward.

A big boy appeared to our right but left us with but a brief glimpse of heavy glossy horn. A tap on my shoulder turned me to look left and to my dismay a dozen younger animals were intently staring us down. However we had gone beyond them and they simply shuffled away without alarming the rest. It was about this time we loaded up the rifles. I looked back at Bevan and smiled. This was good fun. This is why we do it.

We inched forward deeper into the concave. The wind wasn’t great but maybe the strong smell of the beast gave us the advantage. Heads heavy and chewing cud the bulls were now firmly bedded down. It was worth ago and breathing a little deeper we slid forward between the others. Didn’t need my binos anymore and a drop or two of sweat rolled off the end of my nose. I was now watching one bull heavy in boss and with good width. Grey patchy hide and handsome Roman nose. Another almost black in color with pastel grey horn also caught my eye. Either one will do for my Aussie mate. Changing direction I quartered to the left to sight up on the black beast but then thought better of it and backed off. The other was the better. Not sure if he saw me unfold the sticks but he quickly jumped up and trotted off. Others clumsily shuffled to their feet with nostrils held high but for the most they remained calm and some positively drowsy.

Whatever was to happen now I had done my bit and taken Bevan into the heart of the herd. Few have experience this and the emotions were different to that of our ordinary lives. To walk away now unscathed and still in good humor and with a good story to tell would have been fine with him. Fine with me. This is why we do it. The office desk and tie seemed many worlds away now and Bevan’s wife comfortable in the knowledge that her man was hunting a pretty looking antelope called Roan and some other delicate creatures with equally silly names. No one mentioned Buffalo until today that is.

The Kaonde tribe names the buffalo Mbo a deep sharp guttural sound, which exactly mimics this animal, and it was the sound that bought me back to my work and back into focus. Our bull had returned and instead of idly sitting around on our arses it was now time. We stood, me Bevan and the sticks. A lot of big heads looked our way then. Our bull had walked behind others and typically was the only buffalo not paying attention to the drama unfolding. Bevan looked calm and solid on the sticks. Eye to eye the buffalo and I scrutinized each other. They were ridged, massive and silent now. This is why we do it.

Our pondering bull in the slowest of motions stepped into the clear. Bevan never moved as we had predicted this. I whistled and the Mbo turned his great head to meet the shot. Quickly checking that the remaining herd was well behaved I quietly celebrated and remember vividly the hollow indent of the bullet striking low to the back of the shoulder. I remember the stiff leg and hunched back as the great animal bucked away from us and I remember dust, the collision of horns and the drum of hoof. Breaking trees. The bull was running hard and then he stopped, they all stopped and taking a few steps backwards the brute teetered and died. Waiting a few minutes for his disgruntled partners to depart we walked him up. Bevan’s trophy was apparently a ripper? large in body and horn. Nothing extreme but just a good solid Buffalo hunted in great style and under quite difficult conditions.

A great example of what would be fairly standard fare when hunting buffalo. And is this why we do it? Sort of but if the truth be known there lies lurking somewhere in the murky recesses of your mind a recurring nightmare. Something ancient and dangerous, a dark beast of wicked horn blowing great gouts of flame and gore from flaring nostrils. You are here with the beast because you have chosen to be.

Why do we do it?

Definatly sums up atleast part of why we do it. Thanks you just made my friday at the desk a little easier.

Man i got the africa bug something terrible.

A good read Andrew! But I want my rifle loaded BEFORE we enter the herd!!

Great writing.... thank you for sharing that.

YES
Even in my limited experience....
a solid definition of
Why we do it.
You have been holding out on us,fairgame
Your words paint a vivid picture
Thank you

Yeah, I'd say that you have a pretty good grasp on the spirit behind the hunt. Nice post.

Don't know if that was an original by you, Andrew, but that was outstanding!

Always enjoy your posts.

Great story!! We all have our reasons for "doing it". You have summed it up nicely.

Thanks.

Great words Andrew!

Nicely written Andrew.

Very well written, Andrew. Thank you for sharing that.

Yes, that is why we do it. Your story brought back one of the greatest 'trophies' that I have. It is the memory of standing in front of a herd of buffalo, about 30 or so of them, at about 20 yards, with no cover other than a small sapling between me and my PH. We had buffalo to the left, front and right, and were right amongst them in a prolonged staredown. We had gotten in front of this herd and let them feed to us. They never noticed us until they were only 20 yards from us, then the whole herd froze and the staredown began. Even all these years later I can still vividly recall the nice bulls in the herd, nice but not quite what we were looking for so no shots were fired. I can still recall the feeling of fear, but also of exhileration at being in that situation. That memory was the single best trophy I brought home from that safari, which was very successful in more tangible ways.

Memories like these are why we hunt, we carry these trophies in our minds 24/7, and they are what sustains us till the next time. Andrew, thanks for giving us all a great start to our day, and reminding us about one of the greatest reasons we do it.

quote:

Originally posted by DLS:
Very well written, Andrew. Thank you for sharing that.

Andrew well done that’s an excellent post and captures the feeling of the hunt magnificently. Both of my Buffalo hunts with you have been an experience that will stay with me forever and I now understand why it’s an addictive past time and why people keep coming back for more. Particularly what stands out in my mind was the look on the buffalo’s faces as they watched us very intently “sneaking” towards our target animals. For what felt like a long time our covert stalk was in full view of 50 plus animals. More than a few times I expected the herd to move away at a gallop due to our incursion in their midst and for the hunt to be blown for the day. Persistence paid off and the rest is history!

Very Good.

You have a way with words, and obviously have been there many times before!

Kudos.

Heh, heh,,heh... visceral. Thanks for taking me back, if only for a few moments.

Andrew,

I was there with you guys. Nice story.

Mark

quote:

Originally posted by martin pieters:
Great words Andrew!

Thanks Martin. I never hunt for inches anymore and if I feel the bull is worthy and has a bit of history behind him then I recommend the shot.

The trophy is ultimately the quality of the hunt and some of the best buffalo hunting has to be in marginal areas where the bulls are old and wise to the ways of man.

Yes, this is why I do it. The hunt, not the inches.


Fine story. I could even hear the thundering buffalo!

I felt the sticks jabbing into the palm of my hands while reading this.
Oh the memories. That's why I do it.