MOZAMBIQUE: Coutada 9 Buffalo & Plains Game Adventure With Mokore Safaris

[Longwalker]

July 2024 - Coutada 9, 9 days. Hunted Buffalo (management) and also trophy Eland, Kudu, Bushbuck, Impala, Warthog. PH Fabian Fellner. Firearms used Merkel double .450-400 3" / 400 gr. Swift Aframe and V-C bolt action 9.3x62, 285 gr. Swift Aframe.

I'm just back, what follows is an account of the buffalo hunt portion of our safari. It was an excellent experience, beyond expectations over all. Beautiful countryside, despite the current drought conditions. Plentiful game of multiple species, excellent trophy quality, good facilities, good food, excellent service and professionalism. I'm a happy hunter!

What a wonderful first day on Safari! Our professional hunter Fabian Fellner is skilled, considerate and ethical in his dealings with both people and animals. Starting at dawn, we checked a water hole and picked up the tracks of a group of three old Cape buffalo bulls. Followed for several kms in the hot dry and densely vegetated miombo woodland. We never caught up with them. But we did encounter many kudu, impala, warthogs, duiker and waterbuck and also some elephant, eland, reedbuck, bushbuck, baboon, sable and oribi. What a wealth of wildlife that is only here in Coutada 9 because of the investment and dedication of the hunting safari camp operators. My buddy Evan is a first time Africa visitor and hunter. He’s excited as a kid in a candy shop. Me too even after 6 trips. During all that, we watched huge Lappet faced vultures and Bataleur eagles having a bath in a water hole, observed fierce Matabele army ants raiding a termite hill, and later listend to the soothing sounds of Emerald-spotted and Cape turtle doves put the sun to bed as the full moon rose and several species of bats came out. After a delicious meal of Nyala chops and Impala filet with a side of local veggies we sat around a thorn wood camp fire for “sundowners and stories” with camp owner Niel Duckworth and one of his neighbour colleagues. Their stories were quite educational. We were also warned to keep a flashlight handy on the path back to the sleeping cabin after dark because a group of five rather cheeky lions make their rounds near camp most evenings. One of our afternoon activities had been to smooth the road and trails with a thorn bush tied behind the Toyota hilux which we drug to wipe out old buffalo tracks. So tomorrow we can choose a fresh set of tracks to follow. I’m not sure if sleep is difficult because of jet lag or excitement!

 

[Mekaniks]

Excellent! Looking forward to the rest of the story

 

[Longwalker]

Buffalo Hunt - Part ONE
Buffalo had become a serious challenge. Each day, Fabian did his skillful best to predict and intercept the movements of the small groups of dagga boys that were visiting various water holes or “pans” by the light of the full moon. They had a pattern of moving away from water before first light to feed on the chest-tall grass as they went. By late morning they’d be several kms away and would then bed down for the period of midday heat in the thick river valley jesse.
The tracks always led us hopefully at first through some open grassy vleis and savanna woodlands, then into increasingly thick combretum forest and thorn thickets. This region has had very little rain and the drought-stricken trees had dropped their leaves. They littered the bush with a dry crunchy layer. It served as a very effective intruder alarm for the wary bulls. It was almost impossible to approach buffalo while they were bedded. Thick bush limited visibility to 20 meters or less. The bulls always walked downwind before bedding, hooking around to watch their backtrack. They dozed and ruminated while listening for lions or humans, the breeze flowing towards them.
Out before dawn each day, we’d check water holes for fresh tracks. Trackers Mowaia and Santos did a quick loop around each one, scanning the dry dusty trails for tracks. When we found tracks, they could interpret from subtle clues just how many hours ago the buff had left. If the edges of a track were still distinct, droppings glossy or still wet, mud from their legs still soft where it scraped off on the grass, we’d take up the pursuit.
Walking single file, placing our feet softly in the prints of the person ahead to minimize noise, we followed wherever the tracks and trackers led. Fabian was ahead, I was fourth in line. It was amazing how they could discern a fresh track from a particular animal in the thick grass that was trodden and tracked up by other buffalo and many other critters in previous days. Fabian checked the wind direction often by kicking up some dust or watching his cigarette smoke. Buffalo have a keen sense of smell, and one whiff of human sends them running. But after a week, we still had not caught up with any buffalo that were still feeding and therefore vulnerable to a stalk.
Time and again, after 3-5 kms of careful tracking, we’d bust our quarry from their beds. All it took was an errant breeze to waft them our scent, or someone stepping on some cornflakes-dry leaves, or even worse, a crunchy seed pod from the Mapangapanga trees. Those things look like an enormous curled up dried pea pod, as long as your foot. They are a buffalo’s distant early warning system. They litter the forest floor in random patches and to step on one makes a pop that can be heard far away.
On the fourth day we spotted a group of three lions on their kill just a couple hundred meters from where we busted another group of dagga boys from their bedding spot. It seems the buffalo had several good reasons to watch their back trail.
If we spooked a group, we’d lay off for lunch and a siesta, and pick up the tracks again in the afternoon, trying to approach during their afternoon feeding. The afternoon was spent attempting to follow quickly enough to catch up with them, and quietly enough not to be heard. It didn’t work. The buffalo were highly skilled at keeping their backtrack safe.
We often encountered other game. Kudu, Impala and Warthog were especially abundant. Sable bulls sometimes made a stately appearance. Reedbuck, Oribi and Duikers surprised us at intervals. Herds and small bunches of game seemed to be around each bend of the trails. We saw hundreds of animals and birds each day. What a well cared for, beautiful and full of life wild concession.
So while officially hunting buffalo, we were able to add to our bag of “bonus” game. In addition to a big old eland, we got a fine bushbuck and a wonderful kudu, warthog and impala. I’ll write more about those hunts later. We finally caught up with some feeding and therefore vulnerable buffalo on the fifth day.

 

[Longwalker]

Buffalo Hunt, Part TWO
Giving up on our relentless but unsuccessful pursuit of small groups of dagga boys, Fabian took us to a new area where the concession manager Bernard had noticed some big herds.
As we approached a new pan at dawn, buffalo! A great mass of black bodies was easing through the open miombo woodland near the pan. Feeding towards their distant bedding area. We quickly loaded up, checked the wind and headed out in a loose line. Fabian was leading at a very quick walking pace, I’m just behind trying desperately to keep up, stay silent, notice everything, not get winded, and be prepared. Fabian carries only his shooting sticks and binoculars. Evan is right behind me, acting as photographer. The trackers fall back since the herd is within sight and hearing. Mowaia is acting now as gun bearer, bringing up the rear of our column and carrying Fabian’s .375.
We hurried forward into and across the wind, flanking the herd. It looks like it may hold a hundred or so big black beasts. We intercept them less than a kilometre farther along. A big cow stares in our direction from less than 100 meters. We can’t make out a suitable bull, just lots of cows, calves, and young bulls. Herds are much more active than a small bunch of dagga boys.
There are belches and bawls, crunching twigs, and they kick up dust that swirls in the light breeze. This is a management hunt. We need to find an old, post-breeding bull with hard horn bosses and worn down tips, less than minimum “trophy” size of 36” wide. Time for a closer look.
I stop and switch out the cartridge in the left barrel of my double barrel rifle. Trading the solid point bullet for a soft. When stalking dagga boys a soft is fired first, but a solid bullet is used for any follow up shot. Very deep penetration is desirable if a wounded buffalo is running away - or charging towards you. But in a herd situation a pass through must be avoided.
Fabian nods in approval and says “let’s get close”. He hunches down below grass height and we duck walk towards the herd, but my not-so-young knees protest when I try to imitate him. We try crawling. After 50 meters or so, that’s no good either. So we butt scoot like my baby children did on the kitchen floor before they learned to walk. We must have looked comical, inch worming our way forward with shooting sticks and rifle balanced crossways in our laps. Fabian grimaced and plucked a nasty thorn from his butt. But we were sorta quiet, out of sight, downwind, and we got close. Close enough to intercept some stragglers on our side of the herd.
A curious cow noticed something odd and came to investigate. We eased up to kneeling, hardly daring to breathe with a hundred deadly bovines very close, and the cow at just a few meters. She was formidable enough, with wide and dangerous looking horns curving up to sharp tips. Then she was joined by a large young bull. We stared at each other, and suddenly my big .450-400 double barrel Safari Express rifle didn’t seem so reassuring in my hands. It occurred to me that if they took strong exception to our presence, it was up to me to sort out the situation - me being the person in front who was armed. She bobbed her head, stomped and blew, shook her horns, and started to run. Thankfully away from us. The whole herd followed. Made quite a din. Dust too. I took a few big breaths to calm myself after a mild case of “modified stationary panic”. Then Fabian, Evan and I grinned at each other and Fabian said “let’s go”
The herd hadn’t smelt us, and only the two had seen us but they didn’t really know what we were. So after a dash of a few hundred meters, they all calmed down and a hundred or so buffalo stared warily in all directions, sniffing the light breeze. Safety in numbers. Soon some started to feed.
Herds can move deceptively fast while just strolling along munching grass, and we had to trot to keep up. A dry donga provided some welcome low cover and we trotted quickly ahead in the sandy runoff cut. I had to stop briefly and pull out a nasty big acacia thorn that went right through the Vibram sole of my boot and into my instep. We eased back near the leading flank of the herd another kilometre later. We could see a few bulls now, some trophy bulls that were too big, and some too young with soft horn bosses and lots of future breeding potential. No “Mr. Right.”
The herd fed right up to us, at one point we had several buffalo at 10 meters or less as we crouched beside some tree trunks in the tall grass. Exciting this time. I was getting the hang of being so close.
They eventually smelled us of course, and the herd blew out like before. But buffalo trust their noses more than their eyes and so they didn’t stop this time. Fabian used his voice to imitate the bellow of a calf in distress. A couple of bulls turned back to guard the retreat. I got on the sticks and steadied my aim at one brute, but it was obvious even to me that he was too big, too young, a prime breeding “herd bull”. We let them all pass.
Returning to the bakkie we decided to let the herd rest till the next day and pick up the tracks again then.
For a nice change of scenery and pace, after lunch and a siesta Fabian took us for an afternoon drive along some of the sand rivers. There were incredible numbers of kudu and impala and bushbuck and warthogs. Flocks of Guinea fowl and some spur fowl too. Vines like in the Tarzan movies hung from the trees. Smooth barked star Chestnut and beautiful pod Mahogany trees stood tall and wide along the banks.
The truck steered itself in the ruts made by previous drives as we wiggled between the granite outcrops and elephant diggings. It was so much fun and the abundant game gave us the confidence to be very selective in our choice of “shooters”. As it turned out, we shot nothing that day but still had a blast.

 

[Longwalker]

Buffalo Hunt - Part THREE
Next morning, day six, we checked a distant pan. Up a tree, a huge python was sleeping on a branch, big fat coils of its body hanging from a limb in random loops and bulges. He was twice as big and even more impressive than the first one we’d seen days before, just before we got the eland. We took it as a good luck sign.
Reading the tracks at the water’s edge, we learned a lone dagga boy had just drunk in the shallow muddy waters, despite it already being full daylight. The track was smoking hot. The dagga boy hunt was back on!
We followed a mere 600 meters or so. Fabian suddenly stops and looks up. Santos nods and points a finger and touched his ear. Revealed by the quiet chirping of his attending tick birds, we figured he was just in front of us. We slowed down to a “barely moving” pace. Walking on the edges of our boot soles, stepping carefully in each other’s prints to minimize new crunchy sounds. Eyes and ears on maximum alert, rifle held in the ready position, thumb on the safety.
And there he was, already bedded in a thorn thicket, not 40 meters away watching his back trail in the thick stuff. A very careful tracking / stalking job had allowed us to approach even though he’d used all the usual tricks. From the bits we could pick out with binoculars, he was huge, and menacing looking, and ugly-beautiful. And too big to shoot. We backed away and let him be. It was satisfying to finally connect.
On the way back to camp, we got a big beautiful Kudu bull. A “Mushe" ( very nice) Ngoma ( Kudu) our trackers said in Chibarwe, the local indigenous language. But that’s another story to tell. And that filled our day. We all felt our buffalo luck had begun to change. Tomorrow we’d get one.
Next morning as dawn seeped over the rocky granite gomas heralded by the calls of emerald spotted doves, we returned to the pan where the big herd had been watering. We’d only walked a short time, and there they were. Wind was ok. We quickly closed the gap, and began stalking the edge of the herd when our movement gave us away. They settled a bit after the initial run, but were still too far and too fast for us to catch up with. We tried anyway.
Some nice bulls appeared in the shifting mass of bodies, neither giving us time to judge their qualities or get a shot. As they approached a grassy vlei, Fabian spotted four or five dagga boys feeding towards the restless herd from the opposite direction.
We crouch-hurried to intercept while trying to keep a couple trees and some tall grass between us. Far out but slowly closing the distance, the big herd swung in our direction and they began to merge with the dagga boys. The leading bulls lumbered on. They all looked huge. Fabian gasped and whispered
“OH look at that BULL!” he was enormous, perhaps 46” spread between his beautiful hooked weapons. He made the others seem smaller, but Fabian whispered “no shooters - the one next to him is also too big, the one coming out just now is nice but too young. That one leading the big herd is a maybe, but probably too big. Oh, look at that one, see him, moving quickly from the right. In back of the bush just now. I think he’s ok...”
I got the rifle steadied on the stick tripod and watched as the huge one stepped in front of the chosen one. Then he was clear, our bull facing left. It was quite far for a shot with a double rifle, more than 100 meters. “Shoot if you’re ready and comfortable with the shot”
I steadied the reticle on his shoulder and the big rifle boomed and recoiled. He dropped in his tracks. Instantly out of sight in the long grass. The herd stopped and stared, unsure what had just happened. We couldn’t see my bull but he was down. “reload now” came the urgent command. I did and covered the spot where he went down. Then things got very busy.
Five or six bulls converged on the stricken one, and began to take revenge for his past insults. They pawed, stomped and hooked at him with their mighty horns. This went on for a minute or so. They bawled their deep bellows and refused to leave. Fabian said,
“we’re going to have to drive them off, I hope we don’t need to shoot any more in self defense” then,
“I’m going to try something”
Retrieving his rifle from Mowaia, he stepped forward, fired a shot in the air. And waved his hat and yelled. The bulls just stared and three of them turned and stepped forward to challenge us. Then some shook their heads and they all slowly began to move off. And the one I’d shot rose groggily to his feet and tried to join them.
Evan said “he’s getting up!”
Fabian - “He’s the one on the far side of that bunch. Wait, as soon as he’s clear, give him another”
Buffalo are famous for their strength and tenacity. He was walking in a sort of a three legged hobble straight away at about 120 M so I did the only thing possible and shot him in the rear. He turned slightly left and I placed a lucky shot precisely just under his ear. A cautious approach, and an insurance shot finished the job.
He was big and black and magnificent, crusty and scabby with age and mud and wear. I gave him a pat. Awed with his presence. Fabian offered me the Austrian hunters traditional “Waidmannsheil!” and Evan “Congratulations!” Mowaia and Santos shook my hand with some heartfelt eees and ahhs and laughs, taking my thumb in the middle part of the traditional three-part hand shake as indigenous folks do in Mozambique.
He was a wonderful bull, perhaps a bit big to be a true management animal, but Fabian assured me all was good with the license. We thanked the buffalo for his life and then the big job of butchering began. He will feed many families.

 

[Longwalker]

The bonus Eland...
Python, Lions, and Eland… Starting at dawn this morning, we checked all eight “pans” (water holes) in the SE part of Coutada 9 but found no fresh tracks of buffalo that may have come for a drink in the night. Plentiful impala, warthogs, kudu, waterbuck, and a few reedbuck, bushbuck, and oribi kept us entertained. And the wonderful birds - shrikes, tick birds, doves, gray headed parrots, herons, a hammerkopf, eagles, Guinea fowl, spur fowl, and many more.

Near noon we approached a pan on foot, hoping to find an old, past prime impala ram. As usual, Santoz was in the lead, reading tracks and sign. He suddenly jumped sideways. Good thing. Nearly stepped on a beautiful big python, lying in perfect concealment beside the game trail. It was huge, longer than any of us by half a length. We took some photos and moved on.

Near the pan, baboons started barking at us, and impala moved out in several groups. A couple kudu cows too. Some very big tan coloured animals got our attention. Eland!! I wanted to hunt eland as a bonus animal, but didn’t dare hope to find one this trip. It was a group of three bulls and a cow. One old bull looked particularly good. Fabian said “ old bull, very old, very nice - would you like him?” I said “let’s go” and traded the double rifle for the 9.3x62. The stalk was on.

A few meters later Fabian hissed “ lion” as a lioness flushed right in front of us, and ran angling towards our group of eland. The baboons started barking alarm calls. Two more lions ran out.

The eland herd walked quickly through the sparse thorn brush, preparing to engage their smooth, high speed trot that eats up so many lonely African kilometres so quickly. We ran forward a few meters and Fabian set up the tripod “ shooting sticks” for a rifle rest. “ the one on the right, broadside, not the young bull coming in from the left, got him? “ - no good” I whispered, a few branches were in the way of my aim. Shifted left, got back on the sticks, aimed and fired in one motion as they all started to run. Another quick shot as he slowed, and it was over.

Eland are so beautiful, delicious, and iconic as Africas biggest antelope. What an honour and privilege to receive this one. I paid my respects to his departing spirit, then the work began. He will feed us and so many other people! We were thanked by the whole staff of Mokore Safaris for providing them and the local village with such good meat. I’m a happy hunter.

 

[Nevada Wapati]

Enjoying your report with great interest and anticipation. I'm going to be hunting there with Fabian at the end of this month.

 

[matt2H]

Beautifully written! Very enjoyable- congratulations!

 

[DLSJR]

Thanks for the great report so far. I’m following this with great interest as I’m booked to hunt with Fabian in 2026.

 

[Hunt anything]

Great report! I’ve been dreaming of going back to Mozambique, one day I’ve got to make it happen.

 

[Altitude sickness]

Great pictures

 

[Nyati]

Great hunt, congrats

And thanks for sharing.

 

[Safari1]

Great report! Did they say anything about the 250 buffalo coming this year from Marromeu?

 

[Chukardogs]

Excellent report and photos! Congratulations on a successful and memorable hunt. That quality of the photos is top notch. I especially like the Impala picture. What camera did you bring?

 

[Hunting Hitman]

Well done! Congratulations on a wonderful Safari and your pictures are exceptional.

HH

 

[Firebird]

Fascinating place and I am enjoying the hunt especially your noting the various species you have come across!. . . Except the snakes