I had a fine Zimbabwe hunt for buffalo and sable on The Woodlands. Kudos to Dean Stobbs the PH and African Silwane Hunters; particularly for getting me a sable opportunity after Unit-2 burned-up and their Plan-B proved to be unworkable.

The trip over went well. I was surprised at how many seats were empty on the Airbus. I over-nighted in Joberg at African Tribes Guest Lodge. They are not quite ready for prime-time, as they are still under construction and somewhat disorganized. (Don't ever ask me to tell you how much I had to drink the day-after at check-out.) I would have preferred Afton House.

Two years ago I paid for Optima meet/greet and was very satisfied. This year I paid more for Air 2000 Travel and got less. They parked in an illegal area and we found the wheel clamped when we came out. (Wasted time) The next morning they dropped me off at the airport, found me a cart and said "Adios" at the curb. I stumbled around inside until finding the right SAA queue. (I paid for better than that.)

SAA did a fine job all along the trip, although they were a little confused about ammunition at check-in at Joberg for the flight to Vic Falls, as was SAP. They couldn't figure-out where the ammo should go. The guy at the SAA counter wanted it in the gun case. One woman at SAP wanted it in a plastic bag. Luckily the other woman didn’t care, and told her to back-off. I left one box in my check-in and two in my gun case. They all got to Zim.

Arrival in Vic Falls was flawless and I was the first person out the door, where I was immediately met by the PH, Dean Stobbs. I could have been out sooner, but I didn’t have the US$30. I paid with two $20s. Luckily the lady behind me paid with three $10s.

The drive to The Woodlands camp is short, as it is only about 25 kms from Vic Falls. The concession is a zoo. I've never seen so much variety of game moving on and off a concession. Rarities seen included wild dogs and hyena. Lion activity was everywhere; roaring at night and tracks at the water holes. The standing water on the Woodlands seemed to be its primary driver as much of the game appeared to move in as the sun was getting low, and move out after daylight. It was hot enough that there was significant activity at the water holes at all hours of the day.

Shortly after arrival in camp we went out to confirm the scope setting. One solid Federal TBBC and one soft-point cut each other's mark at 50 yards, so I was happy.

The first day of my hunt we tried to locate two dagga-boys that Dean had seen previously. We found the smaller of the two, but couldn't find the big one. Later that evening we drove the concession boundary and watched a herd of 200 to 300 buffalo come on to the concession. Another hunter had been in camp two days and Dean said we would let them work the herd that evening. Later in camp we heard they had stalked the herd, gotten a shot, but believed they had a clean miss. They went back the next morning and found no indication of a wounded animal. (The only wound incurred was the scope half-moon between the hunters eyes.)

The next morning after listening to lion below camp, we loaded up and went looking for the buffalo that we had seen the previous night. As we moved along the boundary we caught the herd. Most had crossed the line. Dean felt the best bet was to walk into the herd in an attempt to split them. The five of us walked directly towards the herd and got the desired effect. We discovered later that we had caused 16 buff to turn back. We stalked these as Dean surveyed what we had in front of us. He determined that at least one bull was a good one. We kept after them as they fed, and generally moved back towards the main body of the herd.

We had a herd of at least 52 sable bolt-off to the side and it was a marvel to watch them put us in their wake. We settled back on the buffalo and worked another 30 minutes or so trying to get in position ahead of them, with the wind in our faces. We finally had them feeding towards us, and likely to pass within 50 yards. Dean set the sticks, and we waited. As they moved closer I settled behind the scope, and flipped the safety off. Dean whispered, asking if I had a soft-point chambered, and when I confirmed it, he asked me to work the bolt slowly to expel it. He picked it off the receiver and I slid a solid home. (His thinking was that with possible light brush in the bullet path, and no other buffalo behind the bull, he felt the odds were better to avoid a possible softpoint deflection or mushroom on a twig; and just drive the solid through brush and buffalo.)

The bull led the small group of buffalo from left to right, slowly feeding. As they approached a small opening, Dean gave me a heads-up, then whistled. The bull stopped perfect in the opening, with only a light brush screen between him and a 300 gr. Sledgehammer; and I drove one tight behind the shoulder. The bull spun around. The group headed back left, in a hurry. Dean said “hit him againâ€, and as the bull broke clear of brush I spined him with another 375 H&H solid, and he dove into the dirt. Dean said he was bleeding heavily from the nose and mouth from the first shot, and wouldn't have gone far, but no reason to wonder about ifs or maybes. He asked me to put a third shot into him as the bull lay still. He's a good one; more taxidermy practice for Jerry. His bosses were the impressive feature, although he also had fairly deep curls. Dean measured him later at 37 ½†with 15†bosses.

After returning to camp I learned the other hunter in camp held the only remaining sable on quota for The Woodlands property so the discussion became where to hunt sable. Having seen 100 a day on The Woodlands I was not eager to look somewhere else, but had no choice.

I was not allowed to hunt sable on the Woodlands for three days after getting my buffalo until the paperwork could be shifted from Unit-2, but it all worked out. I actually had my sable hunt shifted five times beginning with the day before I left Dallas. I would say I lost three and a half days in the middle of my hunt while we hunted an area that to our knowledge had one good shooter sable. This required us getting up at 4:00am and driving an hour and a half in the dark on Zimbabwe’s highways; not a safe bet in my view; and of course we faced the same hour and a half returning in the dark at the end of the day.

We tried everything we could think of including building a blind and trying to wait for the sable to return to water, but we only saw them once from a distance, the first evening, at that waterhole. The hunting area was as thick as I've seen in Zim, and we had no chance to thread a shot through the trees at any point. It was catch them at water, or don’t catch them; and we didn’t.

A discussion the third day of frustration led to African Silwane working with the authorities to switch a sable permit back to The Woodlands, and we were back in the field, with a new sense of optimism. Within two hours we had a good sable bull feeding at a water hole, separated from a herd of about twenty. We moved quickly into position in a strong wind, and set the sticks. The combination of being out of breath and the wind blowing did nothing for what I hoped to see through the scope; a steady hold. The crosshairs were dancing everywhere. The sable started to move back towards the herd, then hesitated, facing me at 100+ yards. Before I could settle the crosshairs, he moved. The next time he stopped he was quartering towards me. I brought the crosshairs up between his legs and squeezed. At the shot, he ran towards the herd and they all put distance between us. Dean said I had shot under his neck. I’m not surprised. I think I stayed on the scope too long trying to steady the shot. I had my chance and blew it.

We tried to flank the herd three more times but never gained on them. They would appear to be feeding towards us, but were too skittish by then and kept turning away. We threw-in the towel and went back to camp for lunch.

Later as I was getting my gear together, Dean came running, saying a good bull sable was at the waterhole below camp. We loaded the truck and drove to the point where we thought we could make an ambush. We moved quickly on foot towards the waterhole then set-up waiting for the sable to do his part. Nothing happened. We sent a tracker up a tree to take a look at the waterhole. Nothing. We moved in cautiously. Nothing. The only thing we found a short while later were tracks leading away from our ambush.

We decided to get back to our original plan and check a few waterholes. When we approached the waterhole where I had missed earlier in the day, the tracker saw sable.

Back on foot, we threaded our way through brush and got as close as we felt comfortable without spooking the herd. Dean whispered, “200 yardsâ€, and set the sticks. I had sighted-in the Sako for “zero at 200 yards†so I felt good. The wind had all but disappeared. I snuggled down over the sticks, and rested my right elbow on Dean’s left shoulder. The bull stepped clear of brush, quartering towards us, facing right. I came up the near leg with the crosshairs, settled halfway up the body to give me some margin for error, and squeezed. He flinched at he shot, obviously hit by the 375 softpoint, and ran in the direction the herd had spooked. We moved quickly that way and watched, hopefully, for signs that the bull was going down.

No such luck. My bull, and one other, were trailing the herd, but still moving. We kept on them, and after a short while noticed that only one bull trailed the herd. We slowed, and began searching the brush and trees. The wounded bull was running out of gas, and we found him standing in brush 100 yards in front of us, quartering away. Dean re-set the sticks and I sent another TBBC into him, hitting him behind the rib cage, left side and stopping it between his forelegs. (We recovered both bullets, the second a perfect mushroom; the first, almost so, but with clear indications that ribs were hit.)

The bull was a good one, not quite as big as others we had seen, but a dandy none the less; 40â€, and overall about ½†below book minimum Dean told me later.

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Having completed our hunt, we rode in to Vic Falls the next day and had a good time visiting with Russell Caldecott and Sandro at Ultimate Guest Lodge in Vic Falls. They are fine company, and Sandro a master chef (after conning him into preparing his pasta special one night).

We returned each night to The Woodlands camp since it was so close to Vic Falls. One night Dean spotted a herd of elephant at the water hole below camp. The moon was full and we watched them through our binoculars at about 9:30pm. There were about fifteen as I recall. Africa at night is something special.

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There is no finer individual than Russell; a real gentleman. I can sleep nights now. He lent me $20 when I was in need two years ago. I paid him back and left him another $20 as seed money this time since I will probably run out again next time. (I always get more than I give when dealing with Russell.)

Dean and I fished one day and did pretty well, but you have to work at it. (Most fishermen were coming back disappointed. The other hunter in our camp curtailed his fishing trip from a full day to a half day.) I brought two 7/8 oz. Bomber Long-A to try; gold/black and silver. Both worked on tiger. Most baits you will see in Zim have two trebles. I like the extra treble the Long-A has.

I met AR’s MHO at Russell's and was able to share a few drinks and watch wild dogs with he, Dean and Sandro one evening. MHO was about to start his hunt on Unit-3. (It's always a little unnerving when you introduce yourself to someone and they immediately connect you to a web persona, but that's life.)

Zimbabwe and its people were fine. I managed to get Bob and the opposition to sign their power-sharing agreement while I was there, but then by leaving the States I allowed the financial market to collapse, so I will work on getting that straightened out now that I'm back. (No luck so far.)

Dean worked hard to get my flights back to the U.S. changed. The SAA woman at the Vic Falls airport is a marvel; bright, eager, intelligent, helpful. You name it, she's got it. Go to her if you need help. (The interesting thing was that she said SAA will probably charge me $350 for the ticket change when I got to Joberg, but they charged nothing, a pleasant surprise.) Dean’s relationship with other key airport personnel is fueled by the exchange of game meat to grease the skids.

Looking back; food in camp was not as good as it should have been. There were shortages of eggs, meat and ice. Most food has to come in from Botswana, and electrical shutdowns hampered ice production. I don't blame the outfitter as much as Bob and his incompetent leadership. Dean came up with enough Captain Morgan and Admiral to keep us both happy.

Check-in at Vic Falls for the return to Joberg went smoothly. Don’t make a big deal about how much ammo you are taking back. A couple had me standing, waiting to get to my gun while they debated how many rounds they were taking back. When asked, I said 55, knowing that I had brought-in 60. That’s not accurate, but nobody cares. Pick a number and move on.

The trip back to the States went well until Washington D. C. and United Airlines got involved. SAA/United sent my bag to the wrong building on arrival in D.C., then the guidance from United for re-checking bags was wrong. Then after submitting my bag and rifle to United two hours before the flight left, they managed to lose the bag. The very same thing happened two years ago with United. This time the bag arrived a day late at 7:00am. Two years ago it arrived at our door, a day late, at 2:00am.

The friendly people that inspect your weapon at Washington (TSA) prior to re-checking managed to not close one lock on my gun case and naturally it was lost somewhere in transit. The ladies at the United counter in D.C. were very helpful, including bandaging a finger I had just cut on my luggage, but the people they are working with are dunces. Watch their every move. Don’t take anything for granted.

The buffalo/sable hunt combination was very popular this year as the other hunter in my camp, from Kansas; MHO and myself were all after this combination. The hunter from Kansas had a new 375 Ruger whose scope spanked him in the forehead twice. Good thing he wasn't hunting more than a buffalo and sable. In Washington I saw a woman (with stitches, and a painful looking black eye) that had let her scope smack her in the head too. You take the good with the bad I guess.

The ride on United to Dallas included hearing someone on his cell phone calling a buddy to read him a list of what he had killed and crippled. Seemed like about 25% of the shots he took resulted in a lost animal. I could have done without that.

Now the question becomes, what next? Leopard sounds interesting at the moment, although I would like to use the 375 H&H again, so maybe moose in Canada or Alaska is the other option. I’ve got a year to think about it, then another year to wait. A lot can happen between now and 2010.

First things first, how about some pictures.

Great report

Totally unskilled at attaching photos. I'll e-mail them to you if you can mount them.

Send them to me Ken, and I'll post them for you.

Pictures posted on Kensco's behalf:

Congrats on an excellent safari!! Beauty of a sable!!

Very nice!

Ahhh,the price we pay for the African fix...

Damn airlines!

Dan

Beautiful Sable and solid dugga boy! Congrats on your safari...well written!

Very good report, thanks.

Nice trophies... glad they got the sable sorted for you. Always a bit unnerving when the only animal you want is on quota and the one permit belongs to someone else! Congrats!

Great report, that Sable trophy photo is excellent.

Thanks for the assist Graybird.

The only other bit of photo input I forgot to forward to you was the picture of the bullets recovered from the sable. I will do that later this morning.

I hope you don't mind being my go-to photo guy, otherwise I know this can be a pain.

quote:

Originally posted by Kensco:
Thanks for the assist Graybird.

The only other bit of photo input I forgot to forward to you was the picture of the bullets recovered from the sable. I will do that later this morning.

I hope you don't mind being my go-to photo guy, otherwise I know this can be a pain.

No worries send 'em my way!

Pictures posted for Kensco with additional text added from an email.

Attached are the two bullets recovered from my sable. The one on the right is the first shot which hit bone. He was standing quartering towards me, facing to my right.

The one on the left was the follow-up that hit behind the ribs on the left side and traveled up between his forelegs. He was standing, quartering away from me, facing to my left.

The bullets were both 300gr, Federal TBBC in 375 H&H.

Neither bullet for the buffalo was retrieved as I used 300gr Federal Sledgehammers for both shots.

Nice Trophys
Nice Report and Photos.
Well Done.

Seloushunter

Congratulations!

Very Nice, Congrats..

Craven

Well done! How did you manage the Sable pose? It looks very nice upright like that.

Beatiful place and great pictures !!
Where exactly is this Woodlands camp ??

L

Just to learn....
In the waterhole picture there are two sables at the right of the picture, one has his neck extended and the other one it seems to have more curved horns, the question is ?

Which one is the better trophy ?

L

My money is on the curve

quote:

Originally posted by Bahati:
Well done! How did you manage the Sable pose? It looks very nice upright like that.

The guide is using his knee for support Johan. You can see his leg just about sticking out on the Sables neck...

Wow fantastic pics. That Sable is awesome.

Very nice buff. The landscape looks parched. Suppose that's what happens in the early Zimbabwe summer before the rains come. Never been that late myself.

Very Nice!!! Congrtats!!!