Preface:
I’ve been asked about the following incidents a few times by AR members. I have never posted a hunt report as this safari took place in 2001 and I didn’t start posting here until 2003. The following are excerpts from my journal.

Background:
This was my third safari to Africa, August 2001. The first two were in Botswana’s Okavango Delta when the camps were deep in the interior of the delta. The first safari was in 1996. I wanted to hunt Cape Buffalo in honor of my 50th birthday. I ended up going without my husband. He had suffered a heart attacked 5 months prior to our scheduled departure. And, although, he was in good shape by the August date, his doctor decided at the last minute, he didn’t want him so far away. So after 28 years of marriage, I took his sister (a non-hunter), who had been my college roommate, and with whom I was also sharing a 50th birthday during our safari. The following year my husband was in great shape so we returned to the Delta after Buffalo again. However, on this safari I was also hunting leopard. I spent fourteen days hanging and checking baits without even a hit. So I still had a score to settle with leopard.

August 2001 with Raoul and Jan Romani’s Tanzania Big Game Safaris

Our trophy list for Tanzania included the following priorities for me: Lion, leopard, sable, roan, eland and, of course, always Cape Buffalo. I took: Lion, leopard, hippo, 3 Cape Buffalo, roan, eland, impala, warthog, 2 zebra, Oribi, Bohor reedbuck, bushbuck, Kirk’s Dik-Dik, Steenbok, Grant’s gazelle, Thompson’s gazelle, Lichtenstein hartebeest, Coke’s hartebeest, and a civet cat. My husband, who was undergoing treatment for his degenerative eye problems (which I have shared with the AR members), had a 10 day bag, but we didn’t have high expectations and he was only able to take a Defassa waterbuck. He was still a very happy camper! This was to be an adventure. We expected it to contain surprises and challenges. All wilderness experiences do! And this one turned out to be no exception!

Our safari schedule: 10 days in the Selous K-5 on the Kilombero River, 3 days in Masailand’s Simanjiro Camp, and the balance of our 21 days at Ibanda Camp on the boundary of Uganda, Rwanda, and Tanzania.


Sunday, August 12, 2001
After all the normal travel and arrival routine, our Professional Hunters (PH’s), Orlando Cardozo and Webster Kapaliswa met us at the airfield in Arusha ready to depart for the bush. Orlando is Portuguese, a handsome man of small stature, with an olive complexion and gray-white hair. He has a twinkle in his eyes and has a very positive and outgoing personality. He is probably in his 40’s. He spent most of his early years hunting with his father in Mozambique and working as a mercenary in the Sudanese army. (He confessed that in those early years he thought he was fighting against communism, but the issues were very confusing back then.) He has worked for our outfitter, Tanzania Big Game Safaris, for many years. Webby is of medium stature and a native of the Bantu tribe of eastern Tanzania. He is also handsome and professional in appearance. His English has a British accent and his manners reflect the British influence of his upbringing. He is probably in his mid 40’s. When he is not on safari he works in our outfitter’s office organizing trophy shipments and other office duties.

After the initial formalities of arriving in a new camp, I took an impala.







Monday, August 13, 2001
On the morning of our first full hunting day, I did stalks on two groups of buffalo to no avail. I did take a unique Lichtenstein hartebeest, with a white forehead.


The next plan was to go to an area where good lion sign had been spotted. There we would try to find a hippo to shoot and use as lion bait. We walked a creek bed full of hippo pools and lots of spoor for the rest of the morning—up and down creek banks, but no hippos.

By 1:00 PM we decided to drive to a shady area nearby to have lunch. This is a favorite spot of our PH’s and the word “LUNCH” was even carved on the trunk of a tree there. A card table, tarp and trimmings were set up and we dined under the canopy of shade trees. Before setting out again, I needed to relieve myself so with rifle in hand, I hiked away from the others who all remained at the luncheon table. Upon my return and not 25 yards from our picnic spot I simply stumbled, slipped, and fell forwards to the ground. Although I dropped my .375 in the process, I didn’t feel I had injured anything. But when I turned over onto my butt and started to get up, I was shocked to see my right foot was literally hanging sideways, dangling out of my pant leg. Nothing hurt but I knew something was very, very wrong. I called to Bob, “Come, and hurry it’s very important”. He thought I needed toilet paper!!! Maria, our CPA who we brought along to video/photo, said she thought I had seen a snake, but I tried to tell them it was something really bad. On first examination, the consensus was that I had dislocated my ankle. They thought it had already popped back into place. I still wasn’t experiencing any pain (I think I was on my normal hunting, adrenalin high). Webby had the guys make two small splints for a brace and then wrapped my ankle with gauze. (I kept thinking this couldn’t be happening! The first hunting day of a very costly safari and I have screwed things up!!!!!!!!!! If I could just ignore it, maybe it would be OK!!)

We decided to head back towards camp to assess the damage. Inwardly I wanted to cry. I kept cursing myself for ruining our dream safari on the very first day!!! Enroute there was some talk about flying to Nairobi for good medical help/treatment, which seemed like the worst possible news. Along the way we spotted two warthogs. (NOTE: For anyone who resents a woman, with what turned out to be a leg broken in three places, from road hunting, do not read any farther. I had never shot from a vehicle before this, but I’ve learned there are good exceptions to every rule.) Orlando sped after the warthogs and when he got within range and in a position from which I could shoot, he stopped and shut off the engine. The pigs kept running. Orlando said “The one on the right”. I quickly fired Thelma my .375 and the warthog dropped like a bird from flight. It was a spectacularly lucky shot. No one could believe it, especially me!!! Broken leg and all!!! Now I was thinking, “Maybe this safari isn’t over yet! If I can shoot from the vehicle and we can repeat this scenario for the other critters, it could work!” The warthog’s trophy quality wasn’t much, but we needed the leopard bait.


By the time we arrived back to camp my foot was starting to swell. Of course, I immediately had two 2 vodkas served to me in bed inside our tent. I was anesthetizing. At dinnertime Masunga, our tent valet, brought me a bowl of soup and Bob and Maria joined Orlando and Webby in the mess tent for dinner. After dinner they reported to me that the arrangements were being made to fly Maria and I back to Arusha in the morning. TBGS would arrange for an x-ray and whatever follows. If all goes well, we will spend one night at the hotel and then fly back to camp the next morning. Bob will stay in camp, hunt and hang baits with Orlando and Webby.

Tuesday, August 14, 2001
I took Vicodan painkillers, which we had brought along for just such an emergency, throughout the night. So I slept fairly well with my leg immobilized between pillows. With everyone’s help, I got cleaned up, had breakfast and departed for our bush landing strip at 9:30 AM. Since I don’t have any crutches, Masunga and the guys carry me in a camp chair. Quite a sight. (Overweight white woman’s delusion of grandeur!!!) I was now being referred to as Kabula, who had been a Tanzanian tribal queen. So they loaded me in the Landcruiser and I had to insist that they let me bring along my rifles. Both Orlando and Webby said I wouldn’t need them for the 45 minute ride to the plane. But they obliged me and put them in an accessible position in front of the high seat. Things couldn’t have worked out better, when a herd of Cape Buffalo surprisingly ran right in front of us enroute to the bush airstrip. (I have tags for 3 buffalo and Bob has tags for 2.) Although the largest bull was smaller than what I have previously taken, bait meat is still the determining reason for my shooting. Webby handed me my .416 (Louise) from the high seat. Orlando was driving over the rough terrain trying to head off the herd of 50+ animals. He got me in position on a very old bull at very close range and shut off the engine. My first shot amidst cheers from the crew, broke the old bull down but he managed to get back on his feet. He continued to slowly trot away from us. Because he was bleeding profusely from the nose, we knew he was hit well enough for us to intercept and finalize things. I successfully placed two more shots in his huge butt and reloaded. His bloody nose was 5 ft. away from me when Orlando swerved the vehicle to protect me from being hit. (This Landcruiser had no doors or windows.) When I was in position again I fired Louise (.416 using 400 gr. Trophy bonded bear claw ammo) for the final shot and the huge buffalo toppled over on his side. After pain filled photos poses and video, the guys covered the carcass with tree limbs to protect the meat and carcass from predators and birds, until they return to retrieve it.



We continued on to the airstrip with 5 minutes to spare before Jeff, our bush pilot in a Cessna 404 landed to pick up Maria and me. After taking the buffalo I was ecstatic. I was now convinced and relieved, that whatever treatment was done to my leg/ankle in Arusha, I knew that if I could hunt Cape Buffalo, this safari wouldn’t be over.

Our flight went fast; normally 2 hours only took 1 ½ hrs. with a good tailwind. Since we made an early arrival, David from TBGS wasn’t at the airport yet, so two sympathetic Africans in blue uniforms helped me painfully hop on one leg from our charter plane to the small terminal building about 300 yds away. David arrived with a young, extremely well groomed, black businesswoman named Cecilia who would help with formalities at the hospital. He explained that because I was to be taken to the only acceptable x-ray machine in Arusha, and it was in a Muslim women’s charity hospital, he was afraid he wouldn’t be permitted inside. The preparations David and TBGS had made for me at the hospital expedited things. I was put in a wheel chair and carted through clean, but below poverty level accommodations (dirt floors, hanging laundry, fly strips hanging from the x-ray room). Within 5 minutes my leg and ankle were being x-rayed by an old model x-ray machine donated by Rotary Club of Arusha—(Bob and Maria are both active Rotarians, so I was benefiting first hand from Rotary’s charity). The results indicated a fracture of my Fibula. (I was relieved that, according to my view, the x-ray showed the bone was still well aligned.) I was then wheeled to another area where a doctor and a nurse (who called herself Princess Margaret), set my leg in an old fashioned, plaster cast. By 2:00 PM David was driving Maria and me to the Novatel Mt. Meru Hotel. The total time from arrival at the hospital until we were driven away was less than 1 ½ hrs. It would have taken all day just to complete insurance paperwork had this occurred in the U.S.

David then made arrangements for our flight back to camp in the morning and told us he would join us for dinner about 8-8:30 PM. As I still had no crutches, David and Maria on each side of me helped me hop, what seemed miles, to the room. So later when David paged us to come to the dining room, I asked him to arrange for the bellman to bring a luggage dolly to pick me up. As we entered the dining room, no one would make eye contact with me and I was laughing about the odd sight I must have been.


Wednesday, August 15, 2001
David arrived at 7:00 AM to take us to the airport. He had also located another case of champagne for us to take back to camp. (We joked about this being the real reason we had come to Arusha.) We departed Arusha via a Cessna 206 with an American pilot from Denver named Steve. We flew via Dodoma and refueled there. Apparently Bob and the guys had been waiting for our arrival for over 2 hours. Everyone was excited about our return; the greetings were warm and everybody seemed genuinely happy that the safari would continue. Orlando and Webby immediately told me they had leopards feeding on 2 baits. So after lunch we would build a blind at the one bait where they suspected the larger leopard was feeding. (Bob told me he had tried to shoot an impala and buffalo while I was gone, but couldn’t see them through his rifle’s scope—he was very disappointed but did not want to dwell on it!!! I love and respect this man for the way he is handling his diminishing vision. After lunch we drove about an hour from camp to the area where the leopard was feeding. During the construction process, we kept the vehicle motor running to camouflage our noise. No one spoke above a whisper, and then only if necessary. The blind was built with shrub posts and bunches of tall grass for walls. It offered a great hiding place, but no security. Two peep holes with removable grass plugs were strategically left for shooting and/or observation points. Camp chairs where placed in the blind and there was little room for anything more. Orlando and I sat in the blind from 4:00 PM until after dark about 7:30 PM, but nothing came. We returned to camp for drinks and dinner.

As a note: Because of my precarious old-fashioned plaster cast, I asked Webby to wrap it in duct tape. My thoughts were that I needed this thing to last the entire 21-day safari. It would certainly disintegrate if left unprotected. So now I look like I’m wearing some sort of high tech moon boot. We also taped the sole of a rubber flip-flop sandal to the bottom of the cast, in hopes of the day I can put weight on it and try to walk. Over my bare toes I wore a sock to keep out any insects that might want to take refuge up my cast. My normal method of transport around camp, since I am without crutches, is the canvas camp chair. One guy on each side and one guy at the back to carry me from vehicle to tent, tent to mess tent and back. Inside the tent I use the chair as a walker, but it is much too difficult to go any distance hopping along with the chair on one leg. The way my luck is going, I’m afraid I’ll sprain my good ankle. But this “Queen Kabula” method works—however, no more showers, just sponge baths for me. Good hygiene is already my most difficult and time-consuming daily task.

Thursdau August 16, 2001
I slept in my hunting clothes so I could be ready for our 4:00 AM departure back to the leopard blind. (It is difficult and time-consuming trying to get my pants over the cast on my freshly broken leg and I didn’t want to be late.) To eliminate unnecessary noise and activity, Bob, my husband, Maria, our friend, and Webby, Bob’s PH, would stay in camp. I don’t think they really minded this idea at 4:00 AM.

After the hour’s long ride, the trackers and government game scout dropped my PH, Orlando, and me off at the leopard blind. With the vehicle motor running, we silently slipped into the blind (I silently hobbled). Then, as was the routine, they drove about a mile away, hopefully, to await a report from my rifle. As the sound of the Landcruiser’s motor faded in the distance, we could immediately hear the leopard crunching the impala bones in the baited tree about 60 yards from our position. In the pitch darkness I couldn’t see a thing, but I was very happy. At least I finally had a leopard on bait. (I had hunted/baited leopard for 14 days in the Okavango Delta on my last safari without any activity). As we waited for dawn and enough light to identify the leopard as a male, a pack of hyenas joined our vigil. They fought for the scraps of meat dropping to the ground from the leopard bait. Their hideous laugh sounding barks and screeches added to my excitement. I was in heaven!!! This is exactly where I wanted to be… a leopard in the tree, a blind surrounded by hyenas… it doesn’t get any better for me!!

By the time it got light enough to shoot, the leopard had been feeding for over 2 hours. We could see the cat’s belly was gorged and bloated, but we still couldn’t identify it as a male since its hind quarters were concealed behind the tree’s trunk. The cat stood on the tree limb perfectly broadside for at least 10 minutes, (although it seemed like hours to me). The leopard was looking down from the tree and seemed to be considering the option of whether to jump out of the tree or not. The hyenas were still milling around fighting over the last scraps of bait directly under it. Boy did I want to shoot! This was the perfect scenario, if only we could be certain it was a male. Orlando and I were glued to the 3-inch diameter peepholes woven into our blind. (I had Thelma, my .375, ready, aligned and braced so all I had to do was poke her muzzle forward through the hole. Orlando and I did not make any unnecessary sounds and we used only hand signals.) The leopard was obviously becoming impatient, waiting for the hyenas to leave. Then, as Murphy’s Law would have it, the leopard cunningly jumped out of the baited tree (which stood cleared of brush and debris) and silently landed in the narrow crotch of a tree in deep thickets. Now we saw it was a Tom. But my only view was a frontal shot of his chest and head.

Orlando motioned to me that it was a male. I was anxious and focused; too anxious. I didn’t even think to give Orlando a chance to look out his peep hole before I shot. The dense scrub brush and thickets obstructed our view of where we hoped the leopard’s body would be lying beneath the tree. We heard the low, guttural growling which would be consistent with a hit. Now everything was absolutely quiet. Orlando and I were all ears, at this point; I don’t even think we were breathing.

The trackers and the game scout drove up to the blind as soon as they heard my shot. Orlando told me to stay in the blind because of my broken leg. He and the crew drove the short distance and parked under the baited tree. Although I was glued to my peep hole, I could not see what happened after they all got out of the Landcruiser…but what I heard was horrifying!!!!! First there was the loudest, angriest, blood curdling animal shriek/roar I have ever heard in my life. The sound literally shook the forest. Then I heard people screaming, then I heard a shot, then I saw the guys run back to the Landcruiser and then they drove back to me in the blind. Orlando’s pants were blood soaked at his thigh and he was sitting in the high seat. One of the trackers was driving the Landcruiser and the guys lifted me into the cab. The conversation was all in Swahili (I kept my mouth shut until a long time after we got back to camp. I didn’t think it was a good time for me to ask questions.) During the hour long ride back to camp, I did not know what had happened. Once in camp, Webby performed first aid and TBGS’s office was contacted by radio to make arrangements to Med-Evac Orlando to Nairobi. Fortunately no major arteries were punctured, but Orlando’s thigh had long, deep lacerations on both the front and back.
Orlando stayed in good spirits; he even wanted the camp cook to fix him a big breakfast for fear that when he got to the hospital he wouldn’t be fed for hours. He also reminded us that this was his birthday … and what a gift he got from the leopard and me. By now I could ask about what had happened. Orlando recounted, he and the crew approached the dense foliage where they expected to find the leopard. Orlando went first and had his rifle ready. When he had passed about three feet into the area, the leopard jumped out from behind him onto one of the trackers. He fired his rifle into the ground in hopes of scaring the leopard off the screaming man. After the gun shot, the leopard “locked eyes” onto Orlando. Orlando could not chamber another round with his bolt action rifle before the leopard had its teeth and claws sunk well into his thigh. The only thing Orlando could do was to grab the leopard’s head with his hands and pull it off. The big cat ran back into the thickets. And, the guys ran back to the Landcruiser. Only Orlando had received any wounds. The old tracker, originally the target, didn’t have any physical marks, but he was shaken. He was drafted to accompany Orlando to Nairobi to help with in transit care.

Bob, Maria and I were instructed to stay in camp while Webby and the crew drove Orlando to the bush airstrip about 45 minutes from camp. As the plane departed at 10:30 AM, Orlando’s words to Webby were; “Now it’s your turn”. So Webby and the trackers headed directly to the blind. Once an animal is wounded, especially dangerous game like a leopard, it is mandatory to follow up. (Something I certainly wanted accomplished.) Since this was the plan, Webby had thoroughly questioned Orlando and me about our accounts, so he had all relevant information before he placed himself and crew in harms way. Apparently my shot had been slightly off center of the cat’s chest. It went through the brisket and exited through the ribs. (A lethal wound, but not expedient.) As was accounted to me, Webby and the guys stealthfully approached the thickets and one of the crew thought he heard the leopard. It is amazing to me that the leopard wasn’t a hundred miles away by now, but that is not their nature. Both Orlando and Webby predicted the big cat would be right there… waiting for his next meal or victim! When Webby paused to listen for any sound or to pick up any motion, the leopard suddenly leaped out of the brush directly onto him. He shot with no consequence and fell backwards onto the ground with his legs in the air. The leopard was now bent on taking him. Webby fended him off with the muzzle of his rifle (which now did not have a bullet in the chamber). As soon as the cat bit down on the hard muzzle surface he turned to run back into the thickets. At this time the government game scout, who was a few feet away, fired a shot into the leopard’s butt and finally ended the frenzy.

Meanwhile back in camp, I was feeling the depths of despair. I was responsible for Orlando’s wounds. (He and Webby both kindly reminded me that they were professional hunters (PH’s) and this was their job.) But I knew it was my fault and my responsibility. If I had made a better shot, none of this would have happened. I really felt nauseous. What could happen next on this safari? My broken leg and Orlando’s wounds were definitely bad omens! And it was only day three of a 21-day safari!!! (Our outfitter jokingly radioed us in camp, that they would keep a plane on standby to Med-Evac injured people out of our camp!)




After six days Orlando (on crutches) re-joined our safari and successfully guided me (with my broken leg and sharing his crutches) to my lion. My shooting was perfect…but, I should mention, we built and shot from a tree blind!!!

Epilogue
During Orlando’s six day recovery, before rejoining our safari, he was quite well taken care of by his very special nurse. He now has a son, nicknamed Chui, who was born exactly 9 months after his mauling. Plus I’ll never forget Orlando’s birthday, August 16th. Orlando and I successfully hunted Buffalo and sable together again in 2006.

What I thought would be the simple removal of the cast on my leg when I returned home, turned out to be a complicated surgery. My leg was actually broken in three places and my broken Fibula was out of alignment. It had to be surgically re-broken and mended with a dozen or so screws and pins. …another memory!!

I made many mistakes on this safari and I certainly learned a lot of lessons which I will never forget.

How perfectly awful and wonderful at the same time.

Congratulations . . . I think

BTW, my wonderful wife took a fall last year while on the trail of buffalo. Her arm was hurting and I assured her that it was a sprain, not a break. It followed that she toughed it out for the next ten days. When we return home, she decides to see our doctor and get his opinion. Well, one x-ray later and he confirms that she has a broken arm. I'm still hearing about that one.

S-L, are you still married? !!!

LOL!

Darin, wonderful trip, well worth the inconveniences! You certainly made the most of it. BTW- Birthday time is coming up, Safari Sister, hope you Have a happy one!

Will;
I wanted to ignore mine, but my husband made me go to Arusha. It sounds like the only cure for your wife's broken arm is jewelry!!!!

Ann;
Dittos re: birthdays...I've spent the last several years celebrating in Africa, but not this year. Hope you have a Happy one!!!!

Regards, Darin

My Gawd, do you expect us to believe that story after opening with such a bald faced lie?



Trying to make us believe from those pictures that you were 50 years old!



Heck of a story!

One of the best stories I have read on this site. I admire your determination

quote:

Originally posted by Fjold:
My Gawd, do you expect us to believe that story after opening with such a bald faced lie?

Trying to make us believe from those pictures that you were 50 years old!

Heck of a story!

Actually I turned 55 the day I took my lion in 2001 and I'll be 65 the end of this month. Note: I've lost about 40 lbs. since 2001. Life is good when you are hunting!!!!

Best regards, D. Nelson

Darin, thanks for posting that wonderful report after all this time. I'm sure you didn't need to refer to your journal too frequently to compose it...events like those are permanently etched into your mind.

Congratulations on your outstanding attitude and outlook. Many people would be whining insufferably about an experience like that. You sound like a lady who knows how to make lemonade with life's lemons.

John

p.s. A .375 and a .416 named Thelma and Louise...I love it!

quote:

Originally posted by D. Nelson:
Will;
I wanted to ignore mine, but my husband made me go to Arusha. It sounds like the only cure for your wife's broken arm is jewelry!!!!

Darin,

I was going to share this thread with Joyce until I saw this post.

Jim

I have heard some of the stories from yourself when you were in camp but reading it thi way and seeing the photos is just wonderful.

Excellent story and report.

Great report, I admire your courage. Would also highly appreciate if you could kindly share the pic of Lion you hunted on this trip.

I can vouch for what D. Nelson has written. I heard the story from her PH - Orlando - while in Cameroon. He tells it wonderfully. D.Nelson is being a bit modest in her version. Orlando said she was easily the toughest hunter he has ever taken out...

Bravo!!!!

What a great story of determination and perseverance. Well done.

Wonderful story. From reading your hunting reports I have come to admire your husband's courage in dealing with his vision problem. Now I can see that he learned it from you. great hunt. Where did you hunt in the Delta? I also did my fist hunts there.

TerryR;

We hunted with Johan Calitz & Micheletti-Bates, Ronnie McFarland and Terry Palmer were my PH's. Johan was just starting out then. We were in Kubu Camp both times. We hunted out of mocuros. Deep in the Delta...that is where God lives!!!!!

We would see herds and herds of animals everyday. I thought that was the way it was in all of Africa.

Which camp did you hunt from?



Ahmed;
PM sent.

Best regards, D. Nelson

Great story Darin. That really defines the word persistent.

Mike;

In 2007 when we met you...in Makuti. I finally settled the score with a clean kill on a leopard! I think we used your zebra as bait.

Regards, Darin

Darin,

Thank you for posting this report along with your beautiful photographs.

I have great respect and admiration for your courage and determination.

Wow!!!

Only on the AR Forum would my behavior be called courageous...anywhere else it would be called CRAZY!

Amazing story, thanks for sharing it. Impressive commitment/determination.

Darin

I hunted with Mark Kyriacou, my PH was Glen Munger for my first 3 hunts, then George Kyriacou, Mark's son, for my last. I've been in Tsum Tsum most, but also stayed in splash and mopane. The Delta is simply paradise, if it were open I'd be going back in May rather than going to Zim.

Terry