Buffalo Hunt, Two Friends in Zimbabwe

Dates of Hunt: November 7th - November 11th
Hunters: Bill73 (Bal) and CDHOMS (Chris)
Safari Company: SSG Safaris, Simon Dzingai (PH)
Booking Agent: Duxdog (Bobby)
Travel Agent: Steve Turner
Guns: Blaser .375 H&H, Dakota .338 Lapua Magnum, Heym Safari .470 NE, Merkel .470 NE
Ammo: Hand-loaded Woodleigh Solids, Swift A-Frame, Hornady DGS
Primary Animals Hunted: Cape Buffalo

This was our first DG hunt in Africa. Originally, it was to be a seven-day hunt, but flight issues turned it into a five-day hunt; nevertheless, this was an exciting adventure and our first taste of hunting dangerous game. I will never forget this first hunt and the memories will last a lifetime. I'm very grateful to have shared camp with my friend Chris, the camaraderie and medical assistance that he provided for me was invaluable on this safari (I had an inflamed Achilles' Tendon in my right foot throughout this hunt, which he treated while in camp.)

We both ended up at The Harrison House in Harare, one day apart from each other. It is a clean and presentable place to stay overnight, with comfortable accommodations; however, for someone looking for a hotel "experience" (i.e. a bar, restaurant, etc.) I would recommend the Holiday Inn.

Arriving in camp on the 6th, we proceeded to check our guns. All firearms were working perfectly. Afterwards, we had the pleasure of meeting H. Kittle and his son in camp after a long day of hunting on their part. Below, some images of the camp and the surrounding countryside en route:

November 7th: Wake-up call was at 4:30. A quick breakfast, and we were off. An hour and a half later, we arrived at the hunting area. As soon as fresh tracks were spotted, we disembarked the Landcruiser along with the crew and the stalk was on. Late into the morning, after tracking through the brush, we closed up on a herd of buff. The brush was pretty thick, and I wondered how an accurate shot could be made without it being deflected. After waiting for a few minutes, a bull presented itself to a broadside shot. Simon (our PH) got the sticks up and Chris took position. The Merkel roared but a few moments later, and we had two perfectly placed heart-and-lung shots. The buff ran a few yards and collapsed. After two more shots, it ceased its kicking, and the kill was complete. Chris made it look so easy that I felt that I had been overly apprehensive up to that point in regards to hunting dangerous game.

After getting back to camp with the buff, we ate lunch, took a break, and headed back out later that same day. We stalked and tracked buffalo for the rest of the day, but to no avail, for no buffs presented themselves again. My right foot was on fire at this point

An ice soak for my ankle, a couple of Johnny Double-blacks, fresh buff liver and filet, and we were both enjoying our first post-hunt evening in camp.

November 8th: The crew decided on a day of rest for my foot, for which I was grateful. We would be hunting crocs today, which involved less walking. Arriving at the river's edge, we saw a group of local women washing clothes on the bank. Across the river, crocs were sunning themselves on the bank. It was all so casual, nobody batted an eye at the fact that crocs were in the vicinity. We spotted a shootable croc, drove downriver, crossed over, and disembarked. We proceeded to make our way back to the croc, and fortunately enough the terrain was very rocky, with huge boulders dotting the bank, which provided excellent cover. We started our stalk, but about 150 yards away from the croc, we heard a bit of female conversation, LOL. There were two ladies walking along the bank to the right, oblivious to both us and the crocs, with the day's laundry balanced atop their heads; after failing to catch their attention with a few strained whispers, a loud "SHUT THE F*** UP!" managed to alert them to our situation real quick, and off they scampered into the brush. The hunt was now back on, and thankfully the croc was still there. We got within 60 yards of it, Chris took up position, and the Merkel proved itself once again. Two Woodleigh Solids and the croc was kaput. Chris proved himself to be an excellent shot with open iron sights. He hit the brain with his first shot. We were all high-fiving, it was an exciting time. The people that we had passed on the other side of the bank decided to walk across the croc infested river to come say hello and congratulate us. I'm still trying to figure that one out..they walked across a river full of crocs, and they weren't fazed a bit!

The rest of the day was spent sightseeing, with hunting taking a backseat.

November 9th: This was to be another buff hunting day, as well as my first attempt at killing one. The morning routine was the same, and by the crack of dawn we found ourselves within the hunting area. A quick tap on the cab, and I was out the door; we had seen some buff on the side of the trail. The stalk was on. By mid-morning, we closed up on them. With Simon at my side, I was presented with a Texas heart-and-lung shot on a sizable buff. With my Heym on the sticks, I centered on the target and sent a Swift A-frame on its way. The buff sank on its hind legs momentarily, and then it was off with the rest of the herd. There was a good blood trail, as well as some gore left at the scene of the shoot. We started to track it. After a while, we took a short break. The trackers advised us to give the buff some time to get sick. We commenced tracking again, and after around two hours we caught sight of the buff laying down; but before I could get a shot off, it was up and running. I did end up taking a shot, but I missed. It was getting pretty hot at this point. We tracked this buff all the way into the early afternoon, and ran out of water. It was decided that we would head back to camp to refill our supply. We returned to the field as soon as we could, and started tracking yet again. Eventually, we followed the tracks to the river that separated the hunting area from a nearby national park. I had lost my first DG animal on my very first DG hunt. We prioritized informing the park rangers of the situation.
I had mixed emotions about this day. The actual tracking and chase had been strenuous and thrilling, but I had lost the animal. I felt that I had experienced a real African hunt, but it had ended less the satisfactorily and I had left a wounded animal to die a slow death; however, to this day I have not received any notification from SSG Safaris that the animal had, in fact, died, and that the park rangers had succeeded in tracking it down.

November 10th: The crew gave me another foot-resting day, and Chris and I shot some meat animals and bloodied our bolt-actions. We did see a pack of wild dogs and variety of plainsgame. That evening, we went to a spot on the river to try to spot some elephants.

November 11th: We decided to go out for one last shot at a buff. Being extremely hot at the time, we chose to start earlier than usual, with plans to leave the bush before things heated up too badly. Arriving at the hunting area, we walked down to the river bank in the hopes of picking up fresh tracks leading away from the river. We saw elephant and lion tracks, along with buff tracks. We tracked and stalked all morning without getting any opportunities at any buff. We headed back to camp to sit the heat out, and went back out to the field in the late afternoon.
We commenced walking the bush. By 5 p.m., we still had no promising tracks to follow. There were about 8 of us walking single file, and at this point it seemed a peaceful finish to our hunting for the day.
Suddenly, the three trackers in front of me froze.
They were looking at me, as well as at something off to their right.
Everything seemed to slow down at this point. I stepped up to where they were, and looked to my right. OH. SH*T.....! I was looking face-to-face at a old and huge daggaboy. They tried to bring the sticks to me, but I waved them off. Lifting my Heym to my shoulder, I flicked off the the cover on my Docter sight while simultaneously flicking the safety off. I centered low on the bull's chest and let a solid go on its way. At my shot, the buff turned to my left and ran. I put the second barrel broadside. Simon, who was beside me, put a solid in from his .375 H&H. All hell broke loose at this point, and we were all running. In my head, I said "you are not getting away from me this time!" The buff collapsed about 20 yards away. I waved the sticks away yet again, and took two shots behind the shoulder. It rolled over at that point. We walked up to it, and put in a finisher. It was all over. The adrenaline rush was incredible.

Some random images from camp:

(Me and the chef whipping up some impala curry)

(The Heym)

(The Merkel)

(And of course, Lil' Ernest is always a welcome buddy)

In conclusion, I would recommend all the parties involved in making this hunt possible. It was a unique experience and I'm looking forward to my next African DG hunting trip!

DRSS

Posts: 2283 | Location: MI | Registered: 20 March 2007

JudgeG

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