Mozambique Backpack Hunt (Very Long)
Question:
> What > follows is a ’short’ version of the hunt without any of the snake or > crocodile stories. If someone wants the whole story I wwill be happy to > e-mail it to them directly. It is far too long to post on rec.hunting.
Why is it too long? I enjoyed it. Let’s hear it all. Post away. Mike Bishop Austin, Texas, U.S.A. Visit the rec.hunting and rec.hunting.dogs FAQ Home Page at: http://sportsmansweb.com/hunting/ To leave the Hunting listserv list, send a message with SIGNOFF HUNTING
Response:
I am back from a cape buffalo hunt in Mozambique. It was a hell of a trip! We were five days in the swamp with very little food. That was the toughest part. We ran out of food due to what I call a "Mozambique Mix-up". The hunt took place in Concession area 14 just south of the Zambezi River near the village of Maremeu. This area mainly consists of swamp. There is a quota of 60 buffalo allowed a year out of which 6 were taken last year. Our intention was to make it a backpack hunt, entirely on foot with the vehicle used only to get to a drop off point. The hunt was a fluid affair, the details of which were always changing. It is good to be a bit flexible when dealing with countries like Mozambique. As it turned out the non-native players in the story turned out to be John Wambach, PH. David, his booking agent and friend in Texas. Robbie, award winning British photo journalist who had never hunted in his life. Alex, British journalist who had some experience with pheasants and such in England but no big game experience. Kevin, the charter pilot who brought us in and accompanied us the whole trip. And of course me. As I mentioned there were to British journalists, Robbie and Alex along. An account of this trip. complete with photos will appear in the British magazine "Loaded" in the next 3 to 6 months. The perspective of that account will probably differ a little from mine both the journalists not being hunters. However I think the basic facts will be reported the same. What follows is a ’short’ version of the hunt without any of the snake or crocodile stories. If someone wants the whole story I wwill be happy to e-mail it to them directly. It is far too long to post on rec.hunting. Now to skip a lot of details leading up to the kill and get on with it. On the fifth day in the swamp we got within 80 yards of 150 buffalo. We tried to get two clear shots at once. We waited at least 20 minutes in the grass. Then for no reason we could see they all stampeded toward us. Maybe a lion on the other side had an eye on them too. There were two trackers, John, David and I. We all jumped up at once and shout "Shit" in three languages! The buffalo turned a little. John pointed out a bull and told me to keep my eye on it and if I had a clear shot to take it. We were thinking with our stomachs at this point more than trophies. As the buffalo ran past the trackers were shouting "shoot, shoot." They just wanted some buffalo. I really doubt they cared what we shot so long as it was edible. I got a clear crossing shot at around 45 to 50 yards and shot the one I had my eye on through the lungs with the .458. I saw blood coming from his nose, he ran another 50 yards and dropped. David couldn’t get a clear shot at one. He and John and one of the trackers ran after the herd. Manuel, the other tracker and I stayed back and finished off the bull I shot. Manuel was besides himself. He got on top of the bull and started dancing and singing. "Nyati! Nyati" (Buffalo). I was pretty well delighted at having killed my buffalo. It was a thrilling experience shooting a buffalo on the fly as it stampeded by in a herd of 150 animals. We all had worked hard up to this point. However this thrill would pale in comparison to what waited for us ahead. John came back, sent the other tracker, Pierra to get the reporters and the pilot who went with us (there is no radio communication or phones anywhere in the area so the pilot stayed in case of a problem). We did the photos and chased after the herd. We caught them again deep in the swamp in high grass (10 feet) but only had a quick glance at a bull and David was unable to get a shot off. They finally moved off and we called it quits. We were heading back to camp when we spotted another herd of 10 buffalo. John told the reporters to stay back where they were "safe" and we stalked them. We got within 50 yards. David shot a bull with my .375. The bull was hit low in the neck, not a fatal shot. The herd stampeded at the shot. We watched and suddenly realized that they were heading for the reporters! John took off running as fast as he could with us following. We got there and the three of them were besides themselves. They had to run like crazy. Both of them, Alex and Robbie have been war correspondents. They said they never had an experience like that. Robbie said when a bullet goes past you it is all over with quickly. Watching the buffalo coming closer and closer was downright terrorizing. They ran within 20 yards (Robbie says 7 yards) of them. All they had was a camera and a shotgun with bird shot in it! Now we had to go after the wounded one. I admit I was hyped up and ready even anxious to go. David was depressed having wounded the animal. John was worried. He had these clients to worry about plus the pilot and the reporter. Then me who was happy as hell to be following a wounded buffalo in the swamp. We were sitting down waiting for the buffalo to stiffen up. John started talking to the trackers and the threw his head back and said "Shit! I knew this was going to happen." "What?" I asked. "They say they won’t go into the swamp after him." You need the trackers when following. You can’t keep looking down for blood and watch for the buffalo at the same time. Anyway, after much persuasion, John somehow convinced the trackers to go with us if we went ahead, they behind. This isn’t the best way because you have to keep looking back to see where they are pointing. A side note here. I don’t want to imply that these two trackers were in any way cowardly. One need only put oneself in their boots for a moment (well since they were barefoot, that isn’t the best analogy, but you know what I mean). These guys were totally unarmed with the exception of a big knife. They had never even met us a week before. They didn’t really know how we would act faced with a wounded buffalo in a swamp. Maybe we would cut and run and leave them. I am not sure I would want to go out in front if the situation were reversed and Manuel had the gun and I had a knife. Anyway we worked our way into the swamp, spread out in a line, me on the left flank, David in the middle, the trackers behind. At one point the trackers were certain that the bull was in a bunch of reeds. They could smell him and it did look like a likely place. They made mud balls and would race forward and fling them into the reeds and run back. This went on for about ten mud balls. All the while we were standing there with guns at ready which for me was a more or less sporting clays ready position. Maybe more of a sporting clays cheating ready position with the rifle just off my shoulder. I started smiling after about the fifth mud ball when I began to think how much this reminded me of trying to flush quail out of heavy cover. Except this would be one hell of a quail. Nothing flushed so we carefully moved on. We knew it was close but couldn’t see it. To make a long story short, we heard the bull crash get up, I saw him and put a solid through him. He made a death bellow right after the shot. I thought it was all over, shouted a victory cry and ran toward the bull. Then all of a sudden here comes the buffalo charging at us. It is only 15 yards away. John shouts "shoot". I shoot it goes down 10 yards from David and I. I keep shooting it to make sure. I mean really shooting. The guys waiting out side the reeds couldn’t believe that only one person was doing all that shooting. Adrenaline makes a bolt gun work like a semi-auto. This grass is 10 feet high. We can’t see a thing. Anyway it turns out this was another buffalo! A cow. So we had two buffalo down. I was a bit upset at having shot the cow. John said that it couldn’t be helped. At that distance one can’t wait to see if the charge is a bluff. He was just relieved that it was all over and no one was hurt. John sent Manuel to get the reporters. He wouldn’t go without a rifle after all this so John gave him his .458. Imagine the reporters reaction after hearing all that shooting and seeing the tracker coming out with John’s rifle! They said Manuel was scared to death. All the way back Manuel would keep putting his hand up to signal to stop, look around and listen. Robbie, Alex and Kevin said that they didn’t know what was going on. It sounded like a fire fight had erupted in the swamp and then the only one that comes out is a black tracker carrying the PH’s rifle. Not speaking the language they couldn’t ask. They didn’t know whether they should follow him into the swamp or not or what to expect to see when they got there. They attempted to get the rifle from Manuel but he wouldn’t give it up. After having been nearly trampled to death less than an hour earlier and now having the tracker telling them to follow him into the swamp, the whole time stopping and listening was way more than they had bargained for when they took the assignment. They were certain that something had to be wrong. Why else did Manuel have the rifle? Why was he acting so strangely and what was he looking for? Why so many shots? The bull must still be out there. Meanwhile we were totally relaxed for at least 20 minutes. John said later that he had an uneasy feeling and looked to see where the rifles were and took mental note. I admit that I had no clue of what was about to happen. I was chatting away and mentally carving up the buffalo in to steaks when all of a sudden there was a crash and another bull bursts out into a clearing 10 to 15 yards in front of us. I run back and realize my gun is in front to me. I have to run toward the bull a couple of steps to grab it. John has the .375 with only soft points. David and Perrier cleared out. David shouts to John that there is nothing in the chamber of the .375. John chambers a cartridge. I have only two cartridges left, the first a soft, the second a solid. I
… read more »
