Incredible photos....thank you so much for sharing them, Saeed.

I can't tell you how much I enjoyed that Saeed, THANK YOU

Simply wonderful! Thanks.

Much thanks!

Maybe my favorite.



Pretty intimidating. Even though it is inconceivable, I surely wish they were still walking around East Africa in great numbers.

But I confess that, as a hunter, I'd have a hard time figuring out where I should shoot the damned thing!

Wow, I had never even heard of a Hirola much less seen a pic of one. Great Post

quote:

Originally posted by 470EDDY:
Incredible photos!! Thank you for sharing, Saeed.
I have forwarded the whole post to Bradford O'Connor to see what his reaction might be? I know he hunted Kenya with his Dad and Mother, Jack and Eleanor O'Connor.
I see the floorplate of WDM BELL'S rifle, the famous ivory hunter, and author. I just gave a great friend a first edition of KARAMOJO SAFARIS, personally signed in pencil ("charcoal")by Bell, a Scottish tradition,on his 60th Birthday.
I also see the famous Rigby, 275 Rigby, given to Harry Selby by Robert Ruark, a regular client. I believe Selby’s daughter shot her first elephant with it, as a young teenager!! It is still in the family.
I think I also see Cotton Gordon fondling a rifle in one of the photos. He was a regular PH for K,D, and S... he regularly attended our SCI NW Chapter summer fundraisers at John and June Cotten's home, clients, and friends of the Kleinburger's who pioneered Africa hunting in Kenya, also active in our Chapter.
I didn't get the chance to hunt Kenya!! We were booked on our first safari with another old famous PH from Alaska, Bud Branham, in 72-73, and Kenya closed forever before we got to hunt!!
Truly, the Golden years!!

470 Eddy...which photo did you think was Cotton Gordon? I didnt think Cotton went back that far.

quote:

Originally posted by 505 gibbs:
Wow, I had never even heard of a Hirola much less seen a pic of one. Great Post

They are also sometimes called the 'four-eyed antelope' due to the large pre-orbital glands they have. unique animals!

Thanks so much Saeed for posting these pictures, they are reminders of a great era we will never see and they are awesome just to look at what was it like back in the day

thank you Saeed what a great part of history and not only for hunting. thank you again.

The fellow squatting infront of the gun rack full of cool rifles??

quote:

Originally posted by 470EDDY:
The fellow squatting infront of the gun rack full of cool rifles??

That’s Bob Ruark

WOW, that's incredible!!

quote:

Originally posted by BaxterB:

quote:

Originally posted by 470EDDY:
The fellow squatting infront of the gun rack full of cool rifles??

That’s Bob Ruark

You beat me to it.

quote:

Originally posted by Safari2:

quote:

Originally posted by BaxterB:

quote:

Originally posted by 470EDDY:
The fellow squatting infront of the gun rack full of cool rifles??

That’s Bob Ruark

You beat me to it.

One thing neat in that pic that I never noticed until Harry pointed it out to me is his 416, which is turned sideways in the pic, has no checkering on the stock. After he got it he took to it with files and a rasp to slim down the stock to the way he wanted it. It was only recheckered afterwards, as I remember, when it was rebarelled.

I would love to have handled that rifle before and after Harry's changes to the stock.

Great stuff Saeed!! The pics I have from my father and grandfather's safari with him are a family treasure.

ELEPHANT SAFARI SIXTY YEARS AGO.

By HARRY SELBY

edited draft.by HS

I had just returned from a short safari with African Guides the company with whom I had started my hunting career with Philip Percival.
The year was 1948 and my future looked somewhat bleak. I had been extremely fortunate to become associated with Philip Percival and many of the ‘old timers’ around him in 1945, giving me an invaluable grounding in ethical behaviour and ‘safari-lore’ in general. That was my first ‘Big Break’…. but now Philip was gracefully withdrawing from the safari business.
J.F. Manley, who owned ‘African Guides’ a safari outfitter used by many of the leading White Hunters prior to the outbreak of the second world war, such as Philip Percival, Bror Blixen, Denys Finch-Hatten, Tom Murray-Smith and other notables was no longer aggressively promoting safaris. There appeared nothing for me in the immediate future

Unexpectedly I got a call from Jack Block Managing Director of Block Hotels and CEO of Ker & Downey Safaris , enquiring whether I would be available for a one month safari commencing immediately.
The reason was that two American clients who had booked a month’s safari with one hunter, on arrival had decided that their chances of a good bag would be enhanced if each had his own hunter and hunting car.
I jumped at the opportunity.
The hunter assigned to the safari was Tony Henley, and it would be Tony’s first ‘solo’ safari after serving his apprenticeship with Syd Downey.

Our two middle aged American clients were easy going and Tony and I had got along well. The safari went without a hitch.
We returned to Nairobi each client having bagged a very good selection of trophies…they were also very positive as regards Tony and myself and recommended us both highly to the company management.
Consequently I was approached by Jack Block who offered me a permanent position as one of the K&D hunters. The company also offered to purchase a new International hunting car for me… I would repay the outlay as I earned on future safaris, a couple of which were already confirmed, one with Syd Downey and another with Donald Ker This was my second ‘Big Break’ I was walking on air.

I would have to wait a couple of weeks for the custom wooden safari body to be built on the hunting car and Tony had some time to kill before his next trip..
We decided to go off on a recce. The cost of which we hoped to defray with the proceeds from the sale of the ivory we expected to collect.
We decided on Kenya’s Northern Frontier district for our hunt as the best ivory came from that region. I already knew the NFD fairly well but Tony had not as yet been there and was anxious to do so.

We assembled the very basic in camp equipment … a couple of folding stretchers, bedrolls, a few cooking utensils, plates, knives and forks and a ‘chop box’ containing canned food tea and coffee etc.
We planned to take along two gun bearers and a cook cum factotum who would also look after things whilst we were out hunting… food needed to be carried for them also, we relied on shooting guinea fowl and antelope for meat.
These items were carefully loaded into Tony’s Chevrolet hunting car as we would need to carry a drum each of fuel and water as we would be hunting in an isolated and arid area which could prove very unforgiving if one ran short of either one of these essentials.

Our armoury was as follows… Tony took his double .470, I do not remember the makers name and also a double black powder hammer gun in .577 caliber belonging to his father to have some fun with.
I took my neat short barreled Krupp .470, a sweet little Jeffrey in .318 WR caliber and my Brno .22..

We traveled via Nanyuki my home town situated on the shoulder of Mount Kenya then dropped down several thousand feet into the arid and very hot Northern Frontier District, camping the first night beside the small Isiolo river well after dark.

Early next morning we were on our way heading for an area where my cousin Ken Randall and I had previously had success having collected a bull carrying tusks in excess of one hundred and thirty pounds each. We passed through the little village of Garba –Tulla and eventually reached our destination the huge sand river (lugga) known to the Boran tribe who inhabited the area as Bisanade (white water). At intervals along this lugga water rises nearer to the surface, and at these spots elephants dig holes in the sand using their tusks, feet and trunks to expose the precious fluid. The local nomadic Boran tribesmen clear out the sand and deepen the pits each morning in order to haul up water in wooden vessels pouring it into long wooden troughs for their live stock. It was at such places we hoped to find the tracks of large bull elephants having slaked their thirst during the night.


We were very pleased to note that no vehicle tracks were visible… meaning that there had been no hunting there for some months. This and the news that bull elephant were frequenting the wells about a mile off was confirmed by some locals with a camel carrying water gourds who happened by as we were preparing our small camp. Our chances looked good!!!

When we awoke at dawn next morning what should greet us within a few yards of our camp was a large pile of fresh elephant droppings… they were no longer warm so they had been deposited during the night. We discovered that a small group of bulls had passed without any of us hearing a sound… merely leaving us a calling card.
It appeared that they were headed in the direction of the wells… so we immediately set out to investigate and also to check the wells before the local people arrived with all their stock.

This group had used the wells to slake their thirst and had then wandered off across the lugga into the dense palm thicket which bordered it. Two of the tracks were large so we took up the trail immediately hoping to catch up with them before they set out for their distant feeding grounds. This hope was quickly dashed as the tracks showed no sign of the bulls stopping to feed or loiter… it seemed we had a long hard day ahead of us. They had obviously got scent of our camp as they passed during the night and were not in a mind to hang about.

After about four hours of tracking in the broiling sun we heard a rumble in the distance and realized we were about to come up on the group. However they had settled down to spend the heat of the day in a particularly thick patch of palm and it was impossible to get a look at them, eventually we were able to creep right up to the drowsing group by squeezing our way through the palm fronds getting painfully scratched by the hook like thorns whilst doing so.

We could only see the tusks of three of them, the fourth was obscured by their bodies… so we waited… after a while there was a movement and my heart missed a beat as I caught the flash of a long thick tusk…. however we could not see if he had a tusk on the other side…. so again we waited uncomfortably close to the group.
I watched the constantly moving trunk tip of the nearest one…and wondered whether it would reach if its owner tried to grab one of us.
Finally they all moved positions a little and we were able to see that the previously invisible tusk was only a short stump. What a let down!!!! as the long tusk was in the hundred pound class. We crept out of there without them knowing we had been so close and began that long haul back after a disappointing stalk… the distance appearing much further than whilst tracking with visions of a huge tusker ahead.
We arrived back late in the afternoon tired with water bags empty....but hopeful that we would have better luck on the morrow.

The next day was a washout… we picked up the tracks of two bulls at the wells and came up to the owners about four hours later..,. but they had insignificant tusks… and on the way back we were chased up on to some rocks to escape an old rhino cow with calf who did not like the look of us. We arrived back in camp tired and thirsty only to find a small group of Boran who pleaded with us to take one of them who had been mauled by a lion on his rear to Garba Tulla for treatment

We were very sorry for the injured man and did what we could to help him, but it was most inconvenient as it meant a sixty mile drive over an almost non existent track during the night. They offered us a sheep of which they had hundreds in return for the assistance but what really got our attention was when they said they could show us where a group of elephant bulls were drinking… one with very big tusks. That settled it… we arrived back in camp in the early hours of the next morning.

Just after sunrise our Boran visitors of the previous evening were back… with the promised sheep. We told them that we did not want to take their sheep from them if they could as promised show us an elephant with big tusks… in addition we would reward them generously with shillings if they did so.
They replied that truly there was a group of bulls drinking at some wells a very long way down the lugga and one had very long tusks. However it was far and it would be impossible to go there and return in one day… furthermore the country was so rocky away from the lugga that it would be impossible for the vehicle to go further than where we were.

I then suggested that the two men who would guide us provide a camel which could carry some very basic supplies such as food and water. We would live rough for a couple of days if necessary. They demurred about the camel, saying they did not own one, knowing this was rubbish I sweetened the deal by offering a one pound packet of tea… that did it… they found one I a hurry.
We also arranged that we would pack our small camp into Tony’s car and leave it in the charge of their encampment. We did however plan to take all the guns with us as they could have been very tempting to these wild nomads.

We packed up, loaded everything into the car and as arranged left it in the charge of the headman at the nearby cluster of makeshift huts covered with palm matting surrounded by a thorn fence to keep the stock in and the lions out.
We set off at about nine o’clock in single file as is the custom when traveling in Africa, the Boran guide setting a cracking pace, the camel and its leader bringing up the rear.
We skirted the lugga where possible to avoid the soft sand but due to dense palm thickets or rocky outcrops, we were at times forced to walk along it’s soft sandy bed. I was amazed at how easily the slender Boran glided along, they appeared to walk flat footed not digging in with the toe whereas we did the opposite and made heavy going of it…… scolded incessantly as we plodded along by a troop of protesting baboons from their lofty perches in the tall palm trees which border both sides of the lugga.

When we felt it safe to fire a rifle and not disturb any elephants which might be within earshot, I shot a gerenuk, and we collected some vulturine guinea fowl as well…. food for our group, Africans will cheerfully endure any hardship if they have ‘nyama’.

We arrived at our destination, the wells where the bulls were reputed to drinking after three o’clock and found that there were still numerous animals calmly waiting their turn to drink… cattle, goats, fat tailed sheep and one camel….who looked down his long nose in haughty disapproval at our intrusion on the tranquil scene. There ensued a babble of excited conversation between our guides and the people at he wells with much pointing in a certain direction…. Finally our guides informed us that the group of bulls had been seen very recently grouped together in a dense palm thicket not far off.

We were thrilled by this news and after giving instructions to the cook and the Boran who was leading the camel to remain at the wells and allow the camel to drink and possibly get some browse along the edge of the lugga, Tony and I shouldered our double 470s with one of the gunbearers carrying my .318WR we followed the man who claimed to have seen the elephants.

In less than a mile we arrived at the palm thicket and could clearly see the backs of five or six bulls some distance within it. One of us scrambled up a tree but even from that elevation the ivory was hidden by the palm scrub. We sat down and had a cigarette as it was getting late and the group should start moving ere too long.
We did not have long to wait, they started by milling about and feeding…then gradually appeared to be heading towards the open country beyond the thicket……the wind was from them to us and we moved along the outer edge of the thicket keeping abreast of the group.

Finally the lead animal reached the open country and hesitated, we hoped they would not turn back into the thick stuff… but our luck held and one after another the bulls began to emerge.
The fist three carried very poor ivory, but when number four emerged there was a collective drawing in of breath from our group. He had long reasonably thick unbroken tusks…. certainly in the hundred pound class. The ivory of the last two bulls to emerge was also poor.

We waited for the group to move some distance from the thicket and then made our approach. The bulls were strung out in line and moving slowly as Tony and I hurried up to the big one, but just as we got to within forty yards and preparing to shoot the bull behind him moved forward covering him. Then slowly the big bull moved forward and as soon as his shoulder was well clear Tony and I both fired… he faltered but then regained himself as we both gave him our second barrel. There was a great deal of dust and screaming as the group took off… our bull ran only about forty yards before toppling over.
We cut off his tail which is customary and examined the tusks…. no doubt he was in the hundred pound class… Tony and I were jubilant… as were the usually taciturn Boran guides who now saw the shillings we had promised dancing before their eyes.

After all the hand shaking and congratulations were over it was time to get back to the lugga and prepare for the night… we would not want to spend it close to the wells as there would be many nocturnal visitors there.. such as the group of agitated elephants, rhino, hyena and possibly lions which have a very bad reputation in this general area as man eaters…Some years later George Adamson shot a man eating lioness not far from where we now were and captured her four small cubs… one of which became ‘Elsa of ‘Born Free’ fame.

We decided on a spot well away from the wells where there was plenty of dry wood for a large camp fire and made ourselves as comfortable as possible, dining on gerenuk liver and heart grilled on a forked stick washed down with tea.
The men including the two locals talked long into the night whilst enjoying the meat feast.

I scooped a depression in the sand for my hip and placing my hat over a large well dried elephant dropping used it as a pillow.
I lay musing at the incongruity of our little group that…. two young white aspiring professional hunters, two tough ex poacher Wakamba trackers, one elderly Kikuyu cook, two wild and wooly desert nomads, and one camel should all be happily settled down together on the bare sand in the middle of nowhere under a brilliant African moon…. united in one purpose…. the locating and bagging of a bull elephant with a fine pair of tusks.

Next morning saw us bright and early back at our fine bull… nothing had fed on his carcass during the night and we busied ourselves with the lengthy chore of removing the two handsome tusks. All went well until we got to the stage of using the axe on the heavy bone which attaches the tusk socket to the skull… …new heavy steel axes were not available anywhere in Kenya until some years after the war….. those we had were just not up to it.
We hit on the idea that we would use the old .577 to smash the heavy bone allowing us to free the tusks from the skull….. it worked but all of us anywhere near got pretty well splashed with gore as those big slugs smashed into the heavy bone.


With tusks removed we were ready to pack up and trudge back to the car, but when the Boran tried to secure to tusks to the saddle, our previously placid camel protested vigourously and it was with difficulty that they eventually accomplished it. All went well on the return march and we arrived back late that afternoon at the car which was as we had left it.

Next morning we cleaned the tusks took a few pictures and rewarded our now very enthusiastic guides handsomely with shillings and also gave the small clan all the sugar, tea, coffee and maize meal we had left.
Our men complained that we should have accepted that sheep… they dearly loved fat mutton.
We would return to Isiolo to replenish are food supplies and refuel for the next part of our hunt which was approximately one hundred miles north in the vicinity of a network of extensive luggas which flow eastward and form the drainage of the Mathews range. The area is occupied by the colourful and friendly Samburu tribe…. akin to the Maasai in appearance but unlike the Maasai were never a warlike people. They live a harsh nomadic existence centred entirely around the wellbeing their livestock…. on which they are totally dependant

Arriving in the Isiolo area late, we camped near Buffalo Springs, ,a hole in the rock blasted out by the South African Air Force during the war to serve as an excellent swimming pool. We enjoyed a lengthy swim and badly needed general clean up.
Next morning we visited the main shop in Isiolo managed by an old Indian we all called Ghandi due to his likeness to the Mahatma.
We refueled, and restocked with provisions to replace those given to the Boran…. Ghandi even lent us a substantial axe
.
We set off heading for the Merille-Laisames lugga area traveling along a good gravel road in the shadow of the brooding Mathews range in high hopes of bagging another hundred pounder.
We turned off the road just before reaching the bridge over the Merille lugga and began picking our way over a lava strewn scrub plain planning to reach some wells downstream where I had camped previously. Darkness was rapidly closing in so we decided to bivouac and carry on early next morning… best not to run afoul of a large lava rock in the fading light.

Next morning as it was getting light there was an urgent warning “Faro” from one of our staff. Both Tony and I grabbed rifles which we kept loaded beside our stretchers, and were astonished to see a large rhino bull not fifty yards away advancing slowly in our direction… he appeared to be intent on a closer look. He was carrying an excellent horn and as Tony had taken out a rhino license he decided to take him.
Tony fired his .470 and the rhino spun round a couple of times then stood facing in our direction probably about to collapse, but for good measure. I gave him a .318 solid in the middle of chest... he finally keeled over. We were amazed to discover that the solid 250 grain.318 bullet had traveled the length of this big rhino’s body exiting close to the root of the tail… a testimonial to the phenomenal penetration of this renowned cartridge.
If ever a trophy was delivered on a plate…. this was it…. collected right from the camp.

We took a few pictures then removed the horns and the two front feet.. We packed up and went on the wells where we hoped to make our base camp.
We were disappointed to find very little fresh elephant sign at the wells…. gone were all the bulls which regularly drank there when I last hunted the area. The Samburu herders told us that most of the elephants had moved back to the foothills of the Mathews range within the Northern Game reserve as the bush on which they feed had become very scarce and dry along the luggas.

During the next few days we walked many miles, and were obliged to hurriedly distance ourselves from several cantankerous rhinos…..we were unable to find a bull elephant track worth following.
We began to think that old East African adage ‘that one hundred miles on average is walked for every really good elephant taken’ was about to prove itself true, we were seriously considering moving to another area.
We did enjoy seeing several beautiful lesser kudu males, goodly numbers of oryx beisa, grevy’s zebra and grants gazelle, a few reticulated giraffe and many gerenuk and dik dik.
Hundreds of thousands of sand grouse arrived like a blizzard at precisely the same time each morning to drink. I had never seen such numbers, they formed a swirling cloud of beating wings above the exposed water… whilst the entire area resounded with their calls . On later safaris, fantastic bird shooting was experienced on these luggas..

On the fourth morning we came across a good elephant bull track, and it was fresh… we followed hot foot and eventually got a good look at him as he crossed the lugga ahead of us … what we saw was enough .. he was a good bull….at least a seventy five pounder with both tusks unbroken
We crossed the lugga hoping to intercept him , but the wind was treacherous and he must have got our scent.
Head and tail held high he took off through a patch of scrubby bush in front of us . Both Tony and I gave him a bullet before he reached another very thick patch. We waited to hear the anticipated crash of him falling… but that did not come
We maneuvered around the bush into which he had disappeared, and found that he had not passed through … he was still in there.
Most unusual behaviour for a wounded elephant, either they run until they collapse or keep going right out of the area.
We cautiously crept into the thick stuff following his tracks, and finally were able to make out a front leg, but his body was completely hidden.
We had a problem, we both felt reasonably good about our shots…. if we waited he might collapse, however if our shots were not right he might take off and never be seen again. The density of the foliage made it impossible to get in a coup de grace,
Both of us had heard that an elephant shot in the knee is incapable of moving, so we decided to try it. One of use put a .470 bullet into his front knee and he stumbled but regained himself…. however he appeared to be anchored to the spot.
Finally, we crept very close and were able to put in a brain shot. He probably would have collapsed had we waited.
Clearing the bush away to get the tusks out was almost as arduous a job as removing the tusks, but with a good axe we had them out in good time.
Our very enjoyable and profitable little recce. safari was now over and we returned to Nairobi,… Tony to start another safari in a few days….and I to collect my new hunting car from the body builder which would be finished by then and ready for my next, and its first safari.

Wonderful. Thank you very much

A Remarkable Rifle
Veteran of Countless African Safaris
By Harry Selby
FINAL HS DRAFT 2

This is a story about a particular rifle that has truly stood the test of time over a period of half a century…accounting for many excellent trophies on numerous safaris in several different countries over that period of time. No, it’s not a custom masterpiece costing many thousands of dollars; it is an “off-the-shelf” Remington Model 721 in .30-06 caliber.
I will endeavor to relate here, some of the highlights of the performance of this very ordinary, but, in my mind, unique rifle that was used on safari for a period of more than 50 years. To tell the entire story of all its successes would fill a book.
The first time I saw this rifle was at the customs desk in the Nairobi airport in 1953. It was one of the firearms to be used on a six-week safari booked by a Mexican client and his son who were part of a large, influential family by the name of Longoria hailing from the Laredo area just south of the border. The father, Chito, and his son, Chitito, hoped to collect between them the Big Five, plus a comprehensive bag of East African antelope.
Other guns they had shipped included two Winchester 12-gauge pump shotguns and two Remington pump-action .22s. The clients planned on hiring two double rifles in .470 Nitro Express from the outfitters, Ker & Downey Safaris, for the dangerous game—elephant, rhino and buffalo. While handling the guns when clearing customs, I noted that all the guns had seen considerable usage, but appeared to be in good condition. Someone had tried their hand at checkering the pistol grip and forend of the Model 721, and a shotgun-style recoil pad had been fitted. I noted with satisfaction that a good quality 4X Redfield scope had been mounted using sturdy Weaver style mounts and rings.
To say that Remington’s Model 721 was plain is an understatement. It was very basic, with a stamped steel trigger guard integral with a fixed magazine cover plate; even the safety catch was a stamping. The trigger mechanism, which exhibited a crisp single-stage pull, was also made from stampings. The Model 721 had a tubular receiver, recessed bolt face, button-rifled barrel and for strength featured a “three-rings-of-steel” breech design.
This was a simple production rifle that proved to be good value and utility for those hunters who wanted an accurate and reliable gun without paying a fortune for it. The Model 721 and the short-action version called the Model 722 were introduced in 1948 and saw production through 1962, when Remington’s extremely popular Model 700, based on the Model 721’s proven design, took its place. During its time, I imagine many hunters and shooters discovered, as I did, that the Model 721 was one of the most accurate mass-produced centerfire rifles of its time, and in the early 1950s it sold for less than $90.
I was intrigued, as I had seen one of these Remington “economy” rifles in .30-06 caliber on a previous occasion….Robert Ruark brought one on his first ‘Horn of the Hunter’ safari, and in spite of my initial reservations it had surprised me by performing very well…. In-fact Bob collected most of his plains game and a leopard with it…He continued to use it on all his subsequent safaris…. I have to say it was the one rifle with which he could shoot really well. It was very accurate with no feeding problems (I even tried chambering a cartridge with the rifle upside down with success) and a trigger pull that a very expensive custom rifle would be proud of. The only possible criticism I could make would be that it might be a little slower clearing a jam due to the fixed magazine cover plate. I wondered if the Longoria rifle I was examining would acquit itself as well.
We commenced hunting in the Tana River region of Kenya’s Northern Frontier District (NFD). We expected to collect desert antelope as the hunt progressed, but the emphasis was on elephant and possibly rhino. After sighting in the Model 721—it shot a very tight group—my impression gained from the rifle of the previous safari was being confirmed.
A couple of Hunter’s hartebeest, or “Hirola”, both one shot kills, were collected on the first day’s hunting from the stretch of barren featureless scrub bush that stretches from the Tana River to the Somali border where these most attractive antelope of the hartebeest family make their home. Two lesser kudu, one of the most beautiful of antelopes, were bagged the second day and, as the hunt for elephant progressed, a couple of good gerenuk were added to the bag. The Model 721 was proving to be extremely accurate and effective using 180-grain Winchester Silvertips.
We followed a number of large bull elephant tracks whenever we came across them but, as is often encountered with elephant hunting, we were repeatedly disappointed by small or broken ivory. When we were finally able to locate a nice bull of about 80 pounds-per-tusk in thick bush, Chitito quickly dispatched it using a double .470 supplied by the safari company.
We moved camp from the Tana River area eastward to the great sand riverbeds, or luggas, that drain the floodwaters from the Mathews range during the rains to be absorbed and evaporated by the scorching sands of the Chalbi Desert. We again set about hunting for elephant and rhino at the same time, collecting various animals such as Grevy’s zebra, Burchell’s zebra, Beisa oryx and northern Grant’s gazelle with the Model 721.
One day while we were following a good elephant track, we disturbed a rhino. It blundered about not really knowing whether to charge us or get out of the way, but as it had a very acceptable horn, Chito took a shot, knocking him down with the first shot from the .470 and finishing him with his second barrel.
By then, we had only one more elephant to collect in the NFD before moving the safari to Tanganyika…a three-day drive. Cruising along one of the luggas one morning, we came across a huge elephant track. It was fresh, but heading toward the Mathews range, which was within the Northern National Park, the boundary somewhere in the not too far distance. We abandoned the Land Rover and followed as fast as the loose sand would allow, hoping to come upon the bull before he crossed back into the Park. We tracked as fast as we could, but in places where he had crossed rocky ground, tracking was slower. Before long, we were gratified to hear a branch break and realized we were close.
He was in some thick bush when we first caught sight of him, the tusks hidden by the foliage. Just then, he lifted his head and I caught a glimpse of a grand tusk… long and thick. Now we had to find out if he had a tusk on the other side. As we waited with bated breath, he moved and we could finally see the other one. It was shorter than the first one, but still well over a 100 pounds.
He was moving slowly toward the edge of the thick bush so we moved into position to be able to shoot as soon as he was clear. He came forward slowly and, as soon as his shoulder was visible, I whispered to Chito, “Take him!”
Chito fired and the elephant flinched. When Chito gave him the second barrel, he took off across the front of us. As I was not sure how far the Park boundary was, and five miles to a fleeing elephant is a short run, I was taking no chances and I brained him with the .416 Rigby. He was a grand old bull…huge in body, and when we delivered the trophies to the taxidermist in Nairobi his tusks weighed in at 125 lbs and 112 lbs.
We set up camp in northwest Tanganyika after two full days traveling from Nairobi and immediately set about scouting the area. No other safaris had been in the vicinity for some time and our chances looked promising.
As we collected more trophies, we removed the head and cape and the carcasses were hauled into suitable trees as bait in areas where a leopard might be lurking. The smaller gazelle-sized animals and warthog were used whole while the larger animals, such as Coke’s hartebeest, topi and zebra, provided two or three baits. The Remington was kept busy.
During the next few days, a large eland bull, and an outstanding waterbuck were bagged with the 30-06 and a good buffalo with the .470. One morning as we were routinely checking our leopard baits, one of the trackers on the back of the Land Rover drew my attention to something a long way off across an open plain. The binoculars revealed a fine male lion accompanied by two lionesses. They were walking very slowly toward a patch of bush to our left front. We decided to abandon the vehicle and go on foot toward the bush where they were heading, hoping to intercept them as they approached it.
All went well as we hurried toward the bush, hidden from the lions. We reached it only to find they were nowhere to be seen. Had they somehow sensed our presence and moved off? Surely not…the wind, what little there was, appeared to be in our favor.
I kept scanning the area where we had last seen them with the binoculars and finally spotted a little black blur moving in the short grass. I climbed a low tree and there they were about three hundred yards off lying absolutely flat in the grass. What I had seen was the tip of a swishing lion’s tail.
Finally, after what seemed like ages, one of the lionesses stood up, yawned and looked around. Presently, the other lioness stood up and, as if summoned to do so, his lordship did likewise. They started walking very slowly, stopping every now and then, directly toward us. Chito had found a good steady rest for the Remington on a low branch. We just patiently waited, watching as they came toward us very slowly. When they got to about 80 yards from where we crouched, I began to explain to Chito where to aim for a frontal shot.
When the leading lioness reached a point about 50 yards from us, I was about to tell Chito to put the bullet into the lion’s mane directly below his chin. Suddenly, all three animals turned broadside to us as if they had heard something from the direction they now faced. The situation could not have been better, and Chito fired, hitting the lion fairly on the shoulder. He roared and reared forward, ran a short distance and collapsed.
One of the lionesses became very aggressive, and it looked as though I might have to shoot her, which is the last thing a professional hunter wants to do! Fortunately, she eventually slunk off after the other lioness toward a distant treeline. This was the Model 721’s first lion.
By this time, several of the leopard baits had been fed on and we decided the time had come to sit and wait at the bait from which the sign appeared most promising. A large amount of meat had been consumed from a warthog indicating either a very large leopard or more than one animal had fed.
We decided to wait in the previously constructed blind that evening and re-sighted the Model 721 to the precise distance between the bait and blind before leaving camp. The Land Rover dropped us off at the blind and we settled ourselves in as the sun began to sink toward the western horizon.
At first, it was very quiet sitting motionless in the blind until the odd spurfowl called followed by the chatter of monkeys indicating that the leopard had started to move. We tensed. He could appear anytime now, but instead a hyena came strolling warily along and stood at the base of the tree. He looked all about him to make sure the coast was clear and then started picking up bits and pieces the leopard had dropped from the kill above.
Suddenly, a very large leopard burst from the bush and there followed a brief rough and tumble between him and the hyena, both of them growling furiously. Lasting only a few seconds, the leopard sprang back into the bush as suddenly as he had emerged. The hyena shook himself, looked around and resumed his scavenging. He appeared totally unhurt and presently wandered off, passing close to our blind.
Although this was the only time I actually observed such behavior, I am sure it happens from time to time, possibly at night, as whenever I have seen a hyena approach a bait tree where a leopard has been feeding, it is always with caution, stopping and peering toward the bush frequently and never hanging about after picking up the crumbs from the leopard’s table.
Another ten minutes passed and I became anxious as the light was beginning to fade. Then, like a phantom, the leopard suddenly appeared in the lower fork of the tree, having approached from behind it unseen by us. He stared straight at the blind and I whispered to Chitito, “Don’t move.” After what seemed to us a lifetime, he moved to a branch higher up and lay down on it with all four legs dangling down on either side.
The shoulder was not clear and I asked Chitito if he felt comfortable aiming for the head-neck area. He replied that he felt totally confident so I said, “Go ahead.” Chitito fired and the leopard fell legs up from the tree. We scrambled out of the blind and when we reached the base of the tree, found a very large and beautiful male leopard in his prime stone dead. Chitito’s bullet had pierced the brain. It was a truly magnificent trophy and the Model 721’s first leopard.
We moved the safari further south to the Ugalla / Rungwa River area where luck was with us and we wound up the safari collecting kudu, sable and Lichenstein’s hartebeest.
The kudu hunt developed as follows… We were driving along a sandy track traversing a thick patch of ‘Miombo’ forest when five kudu bulls bounded across the track a couple of hundred yards ahead……even at that distance I could tell that two or maybe tree of them carried trophy heads..
We drove the hunting car under a shady tree and as it was nearing midday, had a quiet snack whilst waiting for the kudu to move on and settle down. I knew that they would stop and look back from time to time and I determined to give them about an hour to quieten down before we commenced tracking.
We left Chito in the car, Chitito, myself and the two trackers walked to where the bulls had crossed and began the ridiculously easy job of tracking in the soft sandy soil. We progressed very slowly however with all eyes were focused ahead as we followed the spoor first through dense Miombo forest then into more open scrub country where patches of long grass had escaped the raging fires of a couple of months before. Here visibility was better and we hoped to catch a glimpse of the bulls before they realized we were following . Surprisingly the tracks indicated the group were moving, albeit slowly all the time…. Occasionally, some scattered fresh leaves on the ground indicated that one had done some nibbling. This carried on for a couple of miles and I was beginning to wonder if we would ever close with the ‘Grey Gosts”
Suddenly we were all brought up with a jerk… a strange clacking noise was emanating from behind a curtain of long grass which had escaped the fires just ahead of us. What could it be? One of the trackers indicated to me with his arms that two of the bulls were locking horns. We quickly reached the curtain of grass and crouching, carefully made our way to its far edge, and there not sixty yards away in a little clearing were the bulls… two mature bulls in the act of sparring,
They would face each other then lunge forward smashing their great horns together whilst twisting their heads trying to get the other off balance before backing off again…. to be repeated every few minutes.
We crept up to a convenient tree close by and I told Chitito to get a steady rest for the Model 721 and be ready to shoot as I glassed the fascinating scene. The two combatants appeared to carry the best heads…both well over fifty inches and I told Chotito ‘Take the one on the right when I say OK as his horns look more massive’.. The other three bulls were standing about looking in different directions….. although mature they were not as good as the battlers…..
Seeing Chitito was ready and aiming I said ‘OK take him’ and at that moment the bulls locked horns again and the shot went off as their horns clashed together…. The selected bull collapsed, but his adversary assuming he had triumphed kept up the assault on his fallen opponent. At the shot the three bulls who had been standing about, took off uttering the usual kudu alarm bark. It took a few seconds before the survivor realized something was not right, he rapidly disengaged his horns from those of the fallen bull and dashed off after them. The culmination to a most interesting hunt
Chito could not resist the temptation to take another elephant when we came upon a large track….. we followed it and killed a 65-pounder.
We arrived back in Nairobi with a very creditable selection of trophies all having been collected with the .30-06 Model 721 with the exception of the elephants, rhino and buffalo, which were taken with the .470s.
The Longorias were a very large family, and I conducted at least six more safaris with Chito and other members of his family and friends during the 1950’s and early ‘60’s. During all those safaris, the same guns were used, which Chito had brought on the first safari, and the Model 721 was responsible for collecting most of the plains game plus a number of lions and leopards.
(A good place to end part I and begin part II)

The Model 721 Goes to Bechuanaland
My family and I had decided for various reasons to move from Kenya to Bechuanaland, an obscure British protectorate adjoining South Africa and reputedly teeming with a wide variety of wildlife. Here, it was hoped I would be able to open up a new safari operation for Ker, Downey & Selby Safaris.
My last safari in East Africa was with Chito and a large group of friends in 1962, just prior to my departure. Chito asked that I take his rifles to Bechuanaland, as my own, for he had no intention of returning them to Mexico. He also looked forward to joining me on safari as soon as the company was established in Bechuanaland. Having guns already there would save him a lot of hassles traveling with firearms.
I established Ker, Downey & Selby Safaris in Bechuanaland in 1963 and, after extensive negotiations with the British Government and the Batawana tribe, was granted permission to operate, initially for one year. A number of my old clients were interested in something new and ready to go, so we commenced conducting safaris in April that year.
One of my earliest clients in Botswana was a man by the name of Prince Stanislaw Radziwill, a member of the Polish royalty, who was forced to flee to Britain when Hitler came along. Stas had made several safaris with me in East Africa and was anxious for the new experience. He was an ideal client, easygoing, humorous, and a good sportsman who loved his champagne.
We started hunting with Stash using the Model 721, and had collected a few animals when, on the evening of the third day, we came upon a herd a sable. The bull had a fantastic head, and I had never seen another sable that even came close to that size. His horns reached well over his back and he was jet black. The herd seemed skittish, and when we tried to stalk within range, they just took off into the dense mopane forest. It was late, the light was bad and we never came up on them again that day.
Stash was so eager to get that sable that he very seriously suggested we forget everything else and concentrate on that one bull, even if it took the entire safari. We concentrated on finding that bull for a day or two and came upon the herd twice more, but on each occasion, the bull was not with them. We searched the entire area around the herd in case he was merely lying down and taking a rest from the herd, but found nothing!
Then, on the fifth morning, we spotted the herd again and there he was. The herd was resting not far from the Khwai River, which was completely dry at that time. The herd appeared to be unaware of our presence so we took our rifles and slid down into the Khwai’s fairly deep dry watercourse and crept along it until I figured we were more or less opposite where we had seen the herd. I eased up the bank very carefully and there they were about a 100 yards distance, with the bull even closer. I motioned Stash up to me and we crept on hands and knees the short distance to a tree from which Stash could get a good rest. We eased up behind the tree with all the animals still seemingly unaware of our presence, and Stash got ready to shoot.
The bull was no more that 75 yards away, but angling slightly away from us. Stash began to aim, and I was anticipating the shot when he raised his face from the stock of the rifle and whispered to me, “He is standing at the wrong angle.” I whispered back, “Just hit him a little back from the shoulder the bullet will range forward into the chest” As I spoke with Stash looking back at me, the shot went off and so did the bull along with the entire herd. Stash began to curse himself in English and, I presume, Polish, too. I thought he was going to cry.
“Come on, Stash. Let’s get back to the car and try to locate the herd.” I said.
We soon found the herd again, crossing a flood plain, but the bull was not with them. As this bull had so often been absent from the herd, I thought he might have left them again, so we went back to where Stash had fired the shot with the intention of trying to track him, which was no easy task in scrub mopane bush.
We found where he had been standing when the shot went off and began to track. We had gone about a 100 yards, perhaps a bit further in the scrub mopane, when suddenly we came upon the bull, laying stone dead. The bullet had entered exactly where it should have, had Stash been aiming through the scope. What a fluke!
To this day, I consider it one of the most inexplicable incidents I have ever experienced in all my years of hunting. I was not looking at the animal when the shot went off. I was looking at Stash. Otherwise, I would probably have noticed something to make me think he had been hit. The sable was a grand animal, in his prime, pitch black body contrasting with white belly, rump and facial markings. The horns measured just a fraction less than 50 inches. After this incredible experience, we resumed our normal hunting, and Stash collected the rest of the animals he was after in the Okavango and Kalahari areas.
In 1965, I was on safari with a client who had been with me the previous year and, as my son, Mark, was on holiday from school, the client very kindly invited him to join the safari for a while. I realized that during the time Mark would be with us, he would have his eleventh birthday. I suggested to my client that if it was agreeable with him, it might be an idea to allow Mark to shoot a buffalo on his birthday. Mark handled a rifle well and had already shot several animals with the Model 721. There were no restrictions on age or calibers in those far-off days, and I had some 220-grain solids in my ammo box for the .30-06. The client thought it a splendid idea and, as buffalo were plentiful, we would not have to go to great lengths to find a nice bull.
Mark joined the safari and, on the morning of his birthday, we all wished him a “Happy Birthday,” and then set off hunting. At about eleven o’clock, we came upon a herd of buffalo resting in the verges of a small plain with some animals drinking at a small waterhole in the center of it.
Until then, we had mentioned nothing to Mark about the possibility of him shooting a buffalo. The client now said to Mark, “Wouldn’t you like to shoot one of those buffalo?”
“Oh yes, but I don’t have a license,” Mark replied.
“You can have one of mine,” the client offered.
“Thank you very much,” Mark said, beaming all over.
We loaded the Model 721 with the 220-grain solids, then Mark, accompanied by me with my .416 Rigby, and a tracker set off to stalk the herd. It was fairly easy to get within a 100 yards of the nearest animals, which were either cows or immature, but from there it meant a hands-and-knees stalk. We had spotted a nice old bull off to one side and decided to try for him. We eventually reached a small anthill about 50 yards from the bull, and I helped Mark get the Model 721 settled and steady on the anthill, and explained just where to aim. Mark fired and the buffalo lunged forward, and ran off with a broken shoulder. He joined up with the rest of the herd, which, by then, were milling about on the plain.
Through the binoculars, I noticed the old bull stagger and finally collapse. On examination, we found that Mark’s bullet had hit him squarely on the shoulder, smashing the shoulder bone, and penetrating the vitals. Mark was as pleased as any young boy could be after having been given something beyond his wildest imagination, and his smile in the picture shows it. This was the Model 721’s first buffalo.
Several safaris with the Longoria family and their Texan friends followed and the Model 721 and the shotguns saw constant use on these and other safaris over the years.
When Ker, Downey & Selby Safaris embarked upon building a tourist lodge, I employed quite a large number of workmen for the job. The Government generously agreed to grant permission for a “pot license,” allowing a limited number of animals, even including buffalo, to be taken monthly in order to feed the workforce. The Model 721 was the rifle used to do this job.
In Africa, there is an insect, which will build a nest of green leaves and mud in any small orifice it can find—a rifle barrel is an ideal place. Too late, we discovered this had happened to the Model 721 during a period when not in use and, upon inspection, it was found that about a two-inch section of rifling was completely eroded, which totally destroyed the rifle’s superb accuracy.
What a sad end this appeared to be for a great old veteran of the African safari, and I determined that this would not happen. A friend kindly brought a premium-grade Douglas barrel from the US for me, which was fitted to the Model 721 by an excellent gunsmith friend of mine in South Africa. The Model 721 took to the field again with a new lease of life…its first trophy a superb sable.
It is impossible to ascertain now the number of significant trophies this very standard rifle has accounted for, but it would be a proud accomplishment for any rifle carrying the name of any of the top English gunmakers or, indeed, a very expensive custom piece from one of the well-known American custom rifle builders.

Really enjoy the pictures and stories. Thanks for posting them.

There are few more coming.

Those photos are great. I vividly remember when his daughter posted here. I was able to get in touch with him and send my copy of Horn of the Hunter to him in Botswana for him to sign and personalize.

Absolutely brilliant Saeed. Thank you very much

Fun morning reading! Thank you, Saeed.

Great stories! Wow what a treasure! Thanks!

Harry Selbys Rigby .416

ROUGH DRAFT (Final) 2 original first sent to Ludo

Professional hunters Donald Ker, Chris Ashcan and I were on safari in the Ikoma area of North Western Tanganyika during 1949/50 with three clients from the United States. Chuck Steele Snr. and his son Chuck Jnr. and Bob Wentzel….. they were after a general bag of trophies

Our camp was situated beside the lower reaches of the Grummetti river which at that time formed the western boundary of the Serengetti National Park.
The Safari was going very well, and after a few weeks we were literally coasting with plenty of time on our hands.

One evening found Chuck Jnr. and myself together with gunbearers Kidogo and Matheke cruising upriver in the hunting car just outside the riverine bush.
We spotted a buffalo about half a mile out in a swath of tall grass, only its back was visible…. but “bull” was written all over what we could see. We decided to go take a look, as we had four buffalo on the license, and we both loved hunting them anyway.

We soon discovered there was a shallow marsh between ourselves and the buffalo….we waded it without a problem, and then crept up on the lone bull who was totally oblivious to our presence. When the buffalo lifted his head he looked pretty good to us, with a spread of well over forty inches. We decided to take him.
Chuck was using a .470 hired from the company. His first shot hit the bull high in the shoulder dropping him in his tracks.. a second shot finished him off.
We sent Kidogo back for the car, he would have to return by a circuitous route to avoid the marsh, and that would take a while We had no four wheel drives in those days.

There were no trees for a considerable distance from where the buffalo fell…. and there being nothing on which to lean the rifles, we laid them down in the grass in order to assist Matheke in the removal of the head and cape.

I was at that time the proud owner of a top grade double Rigby .470, in mint condition, Jack Block, Managing Director of Ker & Downey Safaris had arranged for me to buy it from a friend of his for one hundred pounds about 270 US$. Seems crazy now doesn’t it?

As we were finishing with the skinning, I heard a vehicle, but paid no attention thinking it was my car approaching, no problem Kidogo knew the rifles were in the grass. However I realized after a short while that the sound was coming from a different direction from that I expected my car to appear. I looked up and saw Donald Ker's Power-Wagon approaching us… and already quite close. Donald and Chuck Snr. had obviously seen vultures and were coming over to investigate what was going on.

Donald drove up and stopped. In a flash I remembered the rifles, but it was too late, one of his front wheels had driven directly on to the barrels of my Rigby.470. Horrified I retrieved the rifle as Donald reversed and I immediately realized the worst. The barells were badly bent. Who was to blame? No-one!!!! We did not expect any other vehicles to come along when we put the rifles in the grass, and Donald did not know that the rifles were there. It was a tragic accident.

I was devastated, so early in my professional hunting career, I had now lost my most prized possession… and to make matters worse, I was now without a heavy rifle and I had another lengthy safari starting as soon as the Steele Safari was over.
I had with me a very nice .375 Winchester Model 70 which I used for the remainder of that trip, but I could not start a new safari with a .375 as my heavy rifle. That would be out ‘out of he question’..

On arrival back in Nairobi a couple of weeks later, I immediately began making enquiries for a replacement, but time was short and there appeared to be nothing in the line of heavy double rifles available.
The only heavy rifle I could find was a Rigby .416 at a dealer by the name of May & Co. It had been ordered by a game ranger, and he, for whatever reason had not taken delivery. It was “as new” and for sale for one hundred East African pounds.


I was well aware of the formidable reputation the Rigby .416 rifle and cartridge had earned over the years in Africa..,.. having been used and highly recommended by a number of leading professional hunters and prominent
sportsmen.
Surprisingly less that one hundred and eighty rifles chambered for the .416 cartridge were built by Rigby from 1911 when it first appeared and 1939 the onset of world war two, according to Norma.
Those Rigby .416s were not cheap and were regarded by many experienced hunters as the ‘aristocrat of Big Game’ bolt action rifles.
As an example a Rigby .416 was presented to Pat Ayer, one of the top East African professional hunters by the Duke and Duchess of York (later King George sixth and Queen Elizabeth of England) after their safari in Kenya with him.


But the rifle I was now examining was different…. it was built on a Standard Mauser action and I was skeptical about that as the Magnum Mauser action was always used by Rigby to accommodate the large .416 cartridge.
Close inspection revealed that some metal had been removed from both the front and rear of the magazine well to allow for the lengthened magazine box….and I wondered if this would not compromise the strength of the action. I reasoned that it had been proof fired and Rigby surely would not put their name on a rifle which might be less than one hundred percent reliable
However it appeared to feed flawlessly when cartridges were repeatedly cycled rapidly and forcefully through the action as might happen in a critical situation.

I was also concerned about the bullet weight of 410 grains as opposed to the .470’s 500 grains, albeit the .416s 410 grainer had significantly more velocity, resulting in a striking energy similar to the .450, 470, 475 doubles.
I had no option. I bought it…with the intention of replacing it with another double .470 as soon as possible….. little knowing then that decision was one of the most important I would make throughout my hunting career.
So began a lifelong love affair between myself, the .416 caliber, and the Rigby rifle.
I might add here that any misgivings I might have had concerning that Standard Mauser action were not borne out, as over many years and many hundreds of rounds cycled through it, there was never the slightest hint of trouble.
.
I soon realized that this rifle and cartridge combination was for me as a professional hunter, far superior to any other rifle I had used. The inherent accuracy of a bolt action was apparent from the very first shot, the phenomenal penetration and ‘stopping power’ were to make themselves evident as time went by. I also appreciated the four round magazine, and on several occasions I was glad that those four rounds were ready and waiting.

Suffice to say that after a few safaris on which the Rigby pulled off some spectacular ‘kills’ both coming and going…. I would not have gone back to a double under any circumstances. In the Rigby .416 I had found for me the perfect professional hunters rifle.
A beautifully balanced, fast handling weapon propelling a four hundred grain bullet fast enough to enable it to reach out to three hundred yards if need be, when trying to bring down a wounded animal…. and yet perform with devastating effect on large dangerous game at close range. I was impressed!!!.


On the first safari carrying the Rigby, we were following the tracks of a large elephant through thick palm scrub on the Kom Lugga in Kenya’s NFD, when with a loud snort and crash a rhino charged straight at us from very close quarters
Gunbearer Matheke who was in front tracking flung himself sideways into the palm, allowing me a clear shot. I placed a bullet passing to the left of its front horn into the area where the neck joins the shoulder.. The rhino virtually collapsed in its tracks no more that ten feet from me as if hit by a locomotive. Obviously the spine had been smashed.

On the same safari, we tracked and came up on a very good elephant in the thick bush bordering the Tana river in Kenya’s Northern Province (NFD)
We decided to take him and when my client fired the elephant took off headlong through the bush….. I caught a glimpse of his rapidly retreating stern as he passed through a gap in the bush and as his head swung sideways I tried Karamoja Bell’s rear brain shot.. The bull collapsed with a crash in a cloud of dust.…then absolute silence. We hurried forward and found him dead in the kneeling position with all four legs facing backwards and his tusks, fortunately undamaged, thrust into the soft ground in front of him. He had been polaxed whilst in full flight.

As the years went by and the .416 continued to do everything one could expect of it I became totally confident of its ability to perform in any situation and I think my Wakamba gun bearers became even more devoted to it than I was. Maybe they thought it had some kind of “dawa.”{medicine}.. and wanted to know if I had paid extra for the ‘dawa’ They called it “Skitini” the closest they could get to ‘four sixteen’…. and I do believe they were convinced it did most of the shooting by itself. I merely pointed it in the direction of whatever needed to be laid low…. the Skitini would do the rest. They regarded it as the one thing that stood between themselves and a possible messy follow up.

I had been using the Rigby for about a year when I conducted Robert Ruark’s first safari in Tanganyika with his wife Virginia … many more safaris with Bob were to follow over the years and he had ample opportunity to observe the performance of this rifle and cartridge combination.
He wrote about it too in magazine articles and his widely syndicated column resulting in hunters in the America taking an interest in the .416 caliber which had been very little known to the general hunting /shooting community in that country until then.
This sudden awareness of the .Rigby .416 caliber possibly made it one of the first calibers for which small companies or individuals started making bullets, and later, cases with Boxer primer pockets, when supplies of ammunition from Kynoch and Rigby dried up.

Further recognition of the .416 Rigby came when on a large safari in Kenya during the fifties one of the clients was a rifle enthusiast… his name was Bob Chatfield-Taylor.
He was most impressed with the performance of my Rigby .416 during that safari and some years later when Winchester introduced its .458, Bob necked that case down to accommodate the .416 bullet. Hence the .416 Taylor…. the reason for it’s inception was my Rigby .416.
Although the .416 Taylor remains a wildcat, it enjoys a small but loyal following in the States resulting in sustained interest in the .416 caliber in general.



After a year or two I began to wonder if the stock could not be shaved down a little in places where there was in my opinion a bit of excess wood to achieve my idea of perfect proportions, in both weight and shape….. I knew that any reduction in weight would result in more recoil…. but that bothered me not one bit… what I had in mind was a really powerful cartridge fired from the handiest possible rifle in order that it could be handled like a twenty guage shotgun… that would be my idea of the ultimate professional hunters back up rifle.

Eventually, after pondering this idea for some time, and being pretty handy with tools, I decided to go ahead. I used mainly small planes and scrapers and stayed well away from the areas where there was metal / wood contact .
Finally I decided I had achieved what I had set out to achieve, and I really liked the lines and feel of the result. It fitted me like a glove with the front and rear sights aligning perfectly when the rifle was shouldered.

After sanding the entire stock thoroughly I sealed it well and gave it several coats of oil finish. Naturally all the chequering had been removed and lacking the tools and skills to do a chequering job, it remained thus for the remaining years I hunted in East Africa, … in-fact, until my family and I moved south to Bechuanaland and I was able to get a very competent gunsmith friend in South Africa to perform the chequering job for me for me.
I did however exchange the Mauser ’98 flag’ type safety assembly for a three position Winchester Model 70 type assembly by Rabourne which really speeded up snap shots and I loved it, but later when I sold the Rigby, the purchaser requested that the original Mauser safety be reinstalled.

The last safari I used it in East Africa before moving to Bechuanaland was on a ‘Horse & Camel Safari’ with Robert Ruark in Kenya’s northern province in an area which had since the turn of the century been a Game Reserve and had only very recently been opened to ‘Horse and Camel’ safaris only. We were the first safari to hunt the area.
We hunters rode horses whilst the camp equipment was carried by camels…… a great way to conduct a safari. Our goal… a big elephant with tusks of at least one hundred pounds each.
After looking over close to fifty or more bulls, a couple not quite making our ‘hundred pounder’ mark, over a period in excess of three weeks we were very fortunate to bag almost at the end of our safari, an old patriarch carrying magnificent tusks in excess of one hundred pounds each.

Stories of vast game herds in a little known British protectorate by the name of Bechuanaland adjoining South Africa began to filter up to Nairobi. The company, Ker Downey & Selby Safaris, suggested that I might consider moving our family south with the view of opening up a subsidiary of the company in Bechuanaland should the situation warrant it. I agreed to do this as I felt that it might be an interesting challenge. East Africa was becoming somewhat crowded for my liking.

Arriving in Bechuanaland I found an unspoiled wildlife paradise with large numbers of unsophisticated game animals… there having been very little hunting…..mainly the odd buffalo killed by one of the local tribesmen with a muzzle loader for meat.
Elephants were plentiful, large bodied but with indifferent ivory, great herds of buffalo and many lions..,. sable and Kudu were also in goodly numbers as were the magnificent Kalahari gemsbok and in the Okavango delta were huge numbers of red lechwe, whilst hidden in the vast reed beds lurked the illusive sitatunga.
Not surprisingly Bechuanaland soon became a very popular hunting destination for overseas sportsmen resulting in the Rigby spending a lot of time in the field

All went well until ammunition for many of the old British calibers became difficult to come by. Kynoch ceased production of sporting ammunition and no American companies loaded for most of them.

Fortunately, ‘Botswana’ as the country became known after independence. began issuing permits for reloading ammunition and this solved the ammo. problem for the Rigby to some extent.
Bullets in .416 caliber became available in small quantities before new brass cases with Boxer primer pockets came on the market, so I began turning the belts off .Weatherby .460 or .378 brass, then after sizing the cases carefully, fire forming and annealing them I was able to produce very effective ammunition.
I personally liked the Norma powders and both their MRP and MP4 proved very satisfactory in the .416 case with 400 grain bullets. IMR 4831 also produced good results.
After some experimentation I settled on a velocity of about 2400 fps as being the most satisfactory load in all respects. I did out of curiosity raise the velocity to around 5500 fps, but when I touched that one off I thought there was another Hiroshima!!!

The hunting safari industry in Botswana prospered throughout the seventies and eighties enabling Botswana with its reasonable license costs, excellent trophies and favourable security situation becoming possibly, for a while, Africa’s No1 hunting destination. There was no shortage of clients.

On one safari a large maned lion was wounded by a member of our party and had retreated into some very heavy bush. When we made our usual radio contact at noon I heard about it and offered assistance if required.
We followed the tracks through some very heavy bush and I expected a charge at any moment… but that did not come.. the lion kept on moving away from us. Finally his tracks left the bush and entered a extensive swath of long grass .
We followed and had not gone far when he jumped up with a growl about sixty yards ahead and bounded off rising above the grass at the top of each bound. I let fly with the .416 when he was about eighty yards away and luckily dropped him at the top of the bound… A very lucky shot!!! The bullet caught him on the top of the neck and ranged forward lodging under the skin on his forehead. I was using a ‘Trophy Bonded Bear Claw’ 400 grainer and when we recovered the bullet it measured one and a quarter inches across.

Early in 1980 I fired a couple of back up shots at an elephant which had been wounded by a client, and when we examined the animal later I was surprised to discover that one of my bullets had struck the animal lengthwise.
All the rounds loaded with cordite and possibly corrosive primers combined with the probability of not too regular cleaning on safari over the years had taken its toll on the rifling.
I immediately shipped the rifle to Rigby in the U.K. to have a new barrel fitted and the stock refurbished. I arranged to use a .458 Model 70 Winchester in the .416s absence.
Rigby did a very good job in reasonable time, even shipping the original barrel to Austria where the new one would be manufactured in order that it’s contours could be replicated.
When Rigby tried to export the rifle back to Botswana a permit was refused on the grounds that it would travel through South Africa and there was a UN embargo in place on all arms and ammunition entering that country.
This took some time to sort out…. but finally I was glad to experience the feel of the slender lines of my now ‘like new’ .416 in my hands again.
I continued to use it on safari for about eight years… even taking it on a one month safari to Tanzania via Nairobi Kenya, where on my return the airport managed to lose it for a whole month while I agonized back in Maun.

More publicity for my Rigby came when John Wootters a well known and respected author and gun writer from the States booked a safari in the Okavango with me during 1987. It would be known as the ‘.416 Safari’ as there would be four .416s in camp. John brought with him his .416 Taylor which he swore by, Jack Carter of Trophy Bonded Bullets brought his .416 Hoffman,(similar to the later introduced .416 Remington) Paul Roberts of Rigby’s brought his .416 Rigby and I would carry my .416 Rigby.
One off the objects of this hunt was to try out Jack Carter’s Trophy Bonded ‘Bear Claw’ expanding bullets as well as his ‘Sledgehammer solids’ on buffalo as elephant were closed at that time.
I came to respect Jack’s ‘Sledgehammer’ and ‘Bear Claw’ bullets after recovering many from buffalo we had shot, and on future safaris began carrying Bear Claws in the magazine when hunting lion. I had long since given up on the Kynoch soft nosed bullets as they tended to break up.
The three different .416s all did good work, but of course I was biased toward the Rigby and maintained it outperformed the other two.
However I have to admit I was intrigued by the Taylor as it could be used in a standard length action which meant that a very handy rifle could be built to handle this powerful cartridge, and using lighter bullets it could be a possible ‘all rounder’
John Wootters wrote two articles about that safari ‘The .416 Safari’ (Hunting Nov 1987) and the other ( ‘Harry Selby Professional Hunter’ Hunting Aug.1988)
My friend and colleague, professional hunter cum writer cum TV documentary producer Joe Coogan made repeated mention of the Selby .416 in his writings and finally was instrumental in arranging for me selling it to a client who had hunted with both of us on different safaris.

By the mid nineteen nineties I was approaching the time I had planned to retire after fifty years of continuous professional hunting… in actual fact I continued hunting until the year two thousand making fifty five unbroken years as a professional hunter.
As I approached the fifty year mark a couple who had made several safaris with me and had become fast friends, made me a very attractive offer for the Rigby .416
After much soul searching I agreed… the main factor which influenced my decision was that the rifle would have a secure future in America whereas if it remained in Africa that might not be the case.
Gun laws in many African countries were becoming more restrictive, I was getting older and the last thing I would want was my old friend falling under some auctioneer’s hammer. By parting with it I felt I had assured it a good home where it would be amongst friends.
But in my mind it would always be Harry Selby’s Rigby .416 XXXXXXXXX

Great story about a legendary rifle.

I wonder if Harry’s .470 was ever rebarreled?

I think I would have cried if that had happened to mine.