20 July 2011, 05:37
Bwana Bundukifairgame and Bwana Bunduki fire and gasoline
Dates: July 2-July 12, 2011Area: Munyamadzi Game Reserve Zambia
Ourfitter: Adam Clements Safari Trackers
Travel Agent: Barb at International Journies
Trophies Taken: Hippo,Impala,Puku,Waterbuck,Roan,Kudu,Cape Buffalo and Leopard
Rifles: .458 Lott and .375 H&H both Winchester Model 70
Beer: Mosi
Okay better hold on guys this one is a hoot. I was looking for a hunt for my baby brother. He has never had the chance to go to Africa and on a school teacher's salary it was probably not going to happen. So enter me. I worked with Mark Young and was trying to put something together where he could hunt Cape Buffalo and a few plains critters and I could get a a little hunting in as well. A lot of factors came into play in choosing this hunt. His schedule forced us to hunt when the grass was still high. This hunt came up and I decided to return to where my illness began. The Luangwa River of Zambia was calling me home.
Munyamadzi Game Reserve is a 40,000 acre private holding. I know I was a little concerned about the size of area myself. Pleasantly surprised is what I was and am. This is the bush. You are quite remote. There are no villages and a permanent anti-poaching presence is in place. Andrew Baldry better known as fairgame on this board took control of this area two years ago. It is bordered by holdings that are not hunted. Across the Luangwa is a million acre GMA. The big four are in residence on Munyamadzi with elephants seen most days and the lions kept up a symphony every night. Also because this is a private holding, the camp does not have to be removed every season. As a result the camp facilities are the nicest I have been in. Hot showers, standard size flushing loos and comfortable beds with mosquito nets make a nice personal space. Electrical power is supplied by a battery bank and solar chargers. Therefore you are deprived of the drone of a generator during the evening hours. They even had satellite internet connection in the office.
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The view from camp.
My Chalet. Not too bad huh?
Bwana Baldry contacted me a couple of days before we left and asked would we like to charter in to gain an extra hunting day. The reply was in the affirmative. Traveling British Airways was a bit of a problem to say the least. We departed Orlando to Dulles and then to Heathrow. After an 8 hour layover in Heathrow, we walked down the ramp only to be greated by two Bobbies in body armor. They were standing over my gun case and wanted to know if it was mine. Several replies came to mind, but "yes" was all I came up with. We had to open it and check serials etc. They were polite but tense. You see British Air requires all sorts of specifics before you fly. They were given the info months in advance, but apparently could not locate it. Finally we were allowed to board and off we went..The return flights were worse. Look for it in African Travel We landed in Lusaka and hustled through customs with the help of Thor a young PH compatriot of Baldry. The bush flight was the best of all the flights. Also at $1300 USD not quite the overt beating of other bush flights.
We were whisked to camp and enjoyed a proper Full English Breakfast before sighting the guns. Our hosts were Andrew Baldry, his wife Julie and sons Ryan, Tom and Sam. Bwana Andrew had visitation with his kids and I urged him to bring them a long. It turned out to be a capital idea and the added a lot to the trip. All is squared away and the first order of buisness is hippo to get the whole cat baiting program started. Bearing in mind this is my brother Eric's first time to hunt anything bigger than Whitetail. The Hell with easing into it. We spent a couple of hours looking over hippo before settling on a scarred old bull. We slipped up to a slight bluff and the old bull surfaced and submerged maybe a dozen times. Bwana fairgame was calm and patient as he explained the aim point for the shot. This was a consistent pattern through the hunt. Finally Mr. Hippo hestiates at the surface a little too long and my bro gives him 500 grains of Trophy Bonded Bearclaw right in the old clown's mouth. This shot began the end of my ownership of the rifle formerly known as my .458 Lott. I got the shot on video, but I must admit I am not much of a videographer. Cecil B. De-Loser would probably cover it. Two hours later and the hippo is recovered and beached with a little help from the Landcruiser.
I promised Bro I would show the shot.
So ends day one. The evening meal was a four course delight and splendid wine. I must be getting old because I crashed. The next day had us up early and trying to cut Buffalo spoor. We did just that, but 3 hours of tracking got us no closer so we pulled off. We hung a couple of Leopard baits and retired for midday. More baiting in the afternoon. Later in the afternoon my Bro takes a crackin' Puku. I always like these chunky little guys I guess because it was the first animal I took in Africa. I might as well mention here that for the entire 10 days the game we encountered was CALM. It's quite nice to see various animals not screaming over the horizon in stark terror at the sight of a vehicle.
Day Three was the day of the Buffalo. About 10 AM we came across a herd of about 40 in a wide area called Oopangala which is a slough in the wet season. We got after them but could not close in an hour so we made the decision to pull off to let them settle down and try to pick the herd up again in the afternoon. By 3 PM we were back at the point on a mopane ridge where we had broken off our pursuit. It took us about an hour and fifteen minutes to close the gap. After tracking through mopane and areas of 8 foot tall grass, we came on the herd resting in the shade of Mopane at the base of a small ridge. Most of the Buff were lying down and they were unaware we were there. We spent several minutes trying to find a good bull to no avail. Andrew and I conferred and we decided to move up to another tree about 12 yards closer. This got us a little better angle and finally we glimpsed a deep sweep of horn behind some grass that prevented us from seeing the rest of the old bull. My brother has been on the shooting sticks for quite some time. Frankly I think he was going to wet his pants. I am sure I was the same my first time. One old cow is giving us the stink eye. There is always one; isn't there? Well the Buff start standing and starting to feed. A younger bull that I almost suggested we take stood and looked straight at us. All of a sudden from the left rises up an old gray faced warrior with solid, heavy bosses and deep sweeping curves. He is facing us and staring at us with that Buffalo stare. Bwana Baldry gives my brother the green light and the .458 Lott roars. Chest shot. The Bull backs up a few steps and falls over. A double death bellow and it's done. Sort of. We literally had to start a fire to get the rest of the herd to move on. They were just a wee bit on the cheeky side. We close on the bull and the beast was most definately not of this world any longer. He had literally traveled 10 yards from the point of impact. My Bro had shot him perfectly. Postmortem results demonstrated a sizeable hole right through the middle of the heart. The Bearclaw was recovered from the hindquarter. My brother was delighted and a little bit on the sweaty side to boot. The spread was 39 inches and 15.5 inch bosses.
Z
You can't find much wrong with this Syncerous Caffer...
Z
Just when you think all is well comes the truck ride from Hell. My brother and I stayed behind with Tracker Miti and Game Scout Ben to begin the dismantling the big Buff. Andrew and Eliam struck off for the Land Cruiser and were back in forty minutes. We loaded up in about an hour and struck off. Because of the numerous dongas and eight foot sisal or grass we had the trackers walk out ahead of us. Long story short, when I saw the moon move 270 degrees in relation to the truck, Andy said "I think we're going in a circle". "That's my read". I replied. Now our tracker Eliam who has been on this parcel for 30 years asked for the GPS! After 5 hours of ungodly abuse to the Land Cruiser doing things I frankly didn't think were possible, and jacking out of a 6 foot deep Aardvark hole, my brother snaps and bails off the truck and organizes the boys and really starts cracking the whip. With our deforestation job nearly complete we stumbled onto the road. Back in camp 30 minutes later being relieved and jubilant about Bro's buff; we pitched a proper KabooBee.
The next few days saw my brother take more nice animals all mature and earned in proper fashion. The only thing that was missing was a Roan for me and a Leopard on bait. It was puzzling. The place looks like it should have been crawling with Leopard but to no avail. Andrew was puzzled to say the least. The Roan situation was quite simply frustrating. The place was literally sick with Roan and we passed on 6 bulls in about the 25 inch range. Heading back to camp we came across a beautiful Kudu bull and a quick sneak and my brother knocks him down with the .458 Lott at 150 yards. What a beatiful old bull. His white tips were broomed off and he carried two poacher muzzleloader balls in his right hind quarter, long sinced healed. Andrew's son Tom who was rapidly becoming our good luck charm got lost returning to the truck for cameras and gave us a bit of a fright. It was a long 20 minutes before we found him.
53 inches of Old Warrior Kudu.
I whacked my head on a post and had about a three inch gash in my scalp that I had to let my brother stich up using digital cameras to advise. Good Lord. The kids thought it was grand and filmed and took pictures. Bwana Andy was shall we say unwilling to engage. So I go to lay down me achin' head for a bit and Andy and my Bro go to check out our croc bait and were under strict instructions to come get me if anything was going on. Well, the Hell with me I guess. They instead came back with an awesome Waterbuck. A day later a nice Impala joined the bag.
Day eight arrives and we are getting short on time. Time for a change in tactics. First comes a ritual taught to my by John "Buffalo" Knowles years ago in the Lower Lupande involving a bit of an offering to the spirits that inhabit the Baobob trees. Note to self pick a bigger tree next time. So young Tom and I struck off for a water hole and spent the better part of the day up a large hill looking over the water seep. Our hopes were a large Roan would water. No Love. However, when I called on the radio for a driver to pick us up, Andrew came on and said "We have two hits on Baits". Now we are in the game. I had not let on that I was going to let my brother shoot the Leopard prior to us leaving and he was vibrating like my 6 year old on Christmas morning. That evening we hunted a hanging hippo buffet on a dry river known as the Chitamelezza (spelling may be suspect). After slipping into the blind we settled in and well...nothing. Calling for the Landcruiser we piled out of the blind and rolled away. It was then Andrew tells me we will hunt the cat in the morning. Morning? Who the Hell hunts Leopard in the morning? Andrew Baldry for one. He contends his success is equally distrbuted between morning and evening. Back in the blind an hour before light and quiet was all that greeted us. Then birds began to clamour and a Bushbuck barked. Suddenly it sounded like a cow walking on the rocks of the Chitamemelezza dry river bed. Our blind was on a bluff and the bait was hanging over the bed at about 70 yards. The cat comes out of the bed, circles the blind and I can hear him breathing at 20 feet. There are limits to my fun meter and if he stuck his head throught the door crack I was going to whack him. Of course I don't have a gun. Finally he went and fed and we waited for shooting light. Well we missed by five minutes and he melted away.
We decided to let him rest and took the evening to hunt Roan again no success. Trust me Bwana Andrew is pushing for us to be succesful. I really felt he wanted success as much a we did. The next morning we were back in our blind and just like the previous morning the Luangwa River warning system went into hyperdrive. Bwana Andrew whispered into Brother Eric's ear, "The Leopard will be here in 5 minutes". Well yes and no. This time he simply approached and stood in the road a mere twenty feet from the blind and then melted away. I hate Leopard. Okay we are toast. We have one day and a wake up before the Cessna begins the process of returning us to our comparatively dismal reality. We decide to ride our baits. The first one we check back on the Oopangala has had a small Leopard on it. Determined detective work by this chap called fairgame yeilds another track. He calls the boys over and low and behold; love is in the air. Our little female has dredged up a big Tom. The blind is built we shift our focus to this blind. We then went looking for a Roan. Again we find airball city on the Roan and after a very brief respite we were in our new blind at 4 PM. Again no love. Uggh...gettin short now. One day and a wake up.
Last day. We had been in a pattern of overcast days and dawn was still along way off as we sat still and motionless in the blind da jour. Unlike other mornings this was like being in a sensory deprivation chamber. No light, no sound, no anything. I have never been in the African Bush with a silence this profound. At first gray, we heard just a minimum of bird noise and suddenly a scrabbling of claws on the tree. Straining to see, Andrew finally determined that both cats were on the bait limb but could only be diffentiated as big blob and little blob. With the light the vacancy sign on the limb was lit again. Okay it 7 am just light so now what? Full English breakfast is what. Then we hit the road making the Roan Loop again. It's noon and I am actually trying not to doze off and take a header off the truck. Young Sam spots a loan young Bull while our eagle eyed, ninja reflexed trackers apparently were snoozing as well. We stumbled off the truck and found the main body of the herd in a few minutes. We were in 20 knot wind and the Roan were spooky and holding tight to the Mopane cover. We made a couple of quick moves and then found a good bull. I was set up the sticks with my pet .375 at about 230 or so yards from a VERY tiny gap that I am waiting for the bull to walk through. Young bull after cow after young bull filtered through. A birthday passed and finally he is walking through the gap. I touched off and called the shot behind the shoulder. Not ideal, but should work. Okay I am not proud of the finishing goat rope, but I think we should have given him more time when he initially went down. My bad, but one Hell of a Roan. As young Tom would say "Big Ass Roan". Roan had evaded me for years as once Bushbuck had and my jinx's die hard...literally. I have been so fortunate and blessed with my hunting it's hard to get upset when a species jinx crops up. Tom has now been renamed the "Roan Ranger". The Roan bull an old warrior and his horn bases were worn smooth with fresh wounds to his face from fighting for herd dominance.
A proper Roan indeed.
I asked Andy if we should freshen up our active bait with some fresh Roan and thought that was a fine idea indeed. We completed this and did another drag tight around the bait as we felt the cats were not moving very far away. The evening hunt was notable only for its lack of action. The bush flight will be in the next morning. None the less, I still felt positive. At some point I reminded Bwana Andrew that I have taken more than one prime trophy with an airline boarding pass in my front shirt pocket. I said "Bwana, it's not over 'til the plane leaves the ground". Further complicating things the original cat has hit another bait.
Last morning. Is the little Baobob that could doing his job? We are in the blind at God knows what painful hour. Once agan we are in a sensory deprivation chamber. It's obvious that the cats have fed on the fresh Roan during the night. Time is flying. Suddenly it is 6 AM and the faintest scrabbling of claws on bark is heard. Sudddenly the cats are in the tree. Its getting light but oh so slowly. My brother Eric and Andrew are in intense conversation about sight picture and such crap and I am screaming in my head "Shoot the damn thing". My brothers love of my .458 Lott has now created a problem. The 1.25 x 4 Safari Grade Swarovski does not have the light gathering of the 42mm Zeiss on the .375. Andy is pressing. He shoots. I hear a sound like of a sack of potatoes hit the ground then nothing. No one else heard anything. Bwana Andrew remarked "boarding pass in the front shirt pocket,eh?" Three hours later the truck arrives. Young Tom was aboard and he had been elevated to Bwana Tom. We had pulled him off an earlier bush flight and asked him to stay because of his good luck. Okay it was 10 minutes but it's my story. The cat is dead at the base of the tree!!!! You can track down my brother and ask him where he hit the cat.
Photos and a proper Kaboobee ensued. I am quite sure it is more than normal for grown men (who still need adult supervision) to be pounding Mosi's before breakfast. What an awesome experience for my brother. For all of us.
Z
We still had an hour and half before the bush plane set down. Bwana Andrew asked "Anyone want to go for Bushbuck?" Hell no. This was one of the most enjoyable safaris I have been on. I am extremely proud of my Baby Brother. Andrew Baldry knows his stuff. He also is open to ideas and thoughts. I always learn on a trip, but I learned a ton on this one. We compressed 21 days of action and fun into 10 and fairgame was just as much to blame as we were. He was up for anything and his energy is astounding. I would hunt with him anywhere. Even the Kafue next year. Take notice friends. Fairgame is the real deal. I would consider him a proper mate.
Jeff Sevor
