Hemingway's Karl
AH member
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- Nov 11, 2022
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- Midwest U.S.
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- Hunted
- South Africa
“The only man I envy is the man who has not yet been to Africa - for he has so much to look forward to." – Richard Mullin
Background:
This was my second excursion out to South Africa with Quagga Safaris, my first being two years ago in June 2022 (as previously covered in my earlier report). In fact, this latest trip was only the second hunting trip of my life, with my first Africa trip constituting my first hunting trip…ever. When I say hunting trip, I mean hunting period. I didn’t grow up hunting and I didn’t hunt for the first time until I was the spry age of 39. Rather, I grew up in the Midwest of the U.S. (think where championship football is currently played in the U.S.) and spent a lot of time fishing. I loved the outdoors but had zero interest in hunting the local whitetail (I never found their meat appetizing, but to each their own…).
Long story short, as hashed out in my previous report, I went to South Africa in 2022 with my father, my brother, and my sister-in-law and hunted with Quagga Safaris. Knowing that the odds of this previous trip happening were 50/50, I didn’t really do much research for the first trip. Although I did very well on my first hunt - I got a beautiful buffalo (shown below), a beautiful sable, an eland of questionable intelligence, a suicidal kudu, a barking bushbuck, and a nice nyala - my lack of research definitely showed during this first trip. For instance, our first trip was an auction hunt from DSC, and I was the one delegated (by my brother and father) to hunt the bushbuck with the tag we had from the auction. At that point, I had absolutely no idea what a bushbuck was or what it looked like. I looked for a bushbuck shoulder mount at the lodge and that was my gauge on what to look for (along with the PH’s amazing patience, directions, and teachings). Fortunately, I was incredibly lucky on this first hunt and was able to take everything down with one shot, except the sable (it took two and that was my first ever animal I hunted). Needless to say, I was fairly ignorant and naïve, but incredibly lucky on this first experience. Regardless of my inexperience, I fell absolutely in love with the African bush and vowed with my brother that we would be back one day (as long as my wife didn’t leave me for bringing back twice as many trophies as I thought I would get…).
However, based on unfortunate developments, our planned return was expedited well ahead of schedule. Shortly after returning from our first hunt, my mother’s cancer came back and took her from us only a few months after our return. My father was devastated and inconsolable. Grasping for any means to console our father, my brother and I proposed a return to Africa in 2024, in the hopes of giving our father something to look forward to (and, selfishly, also for something to distract my brother and I during this time). For us, Africa provided us with a distraction and, ideally, an opportunity to escape and possibly heal some of our wounds. As Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows.” Thus, we booked this return trip with Quagga Safaris for June 2024. For this trip, it would be my father, my brother, my sister-in-law, my nephew (my sister’s son), and myself.
Why have I shared all this personal information with you? Because I think it’s relevant for understanding and appreciating my frame of reference when reading the following report. As can be extrapolated from above, I lack extensive experience in hunting, but have grown immensely in my understanding, studies, and appreciation over the last two years. However, due to my lack of experience, I am not blinded by hubris and am more than willing to admit my faults and naivety. Furthermore, my work and life are stressful enough as it is, so I try to take a lighthearted approach in my hunting report (because hunting is supposed to be my escape). This approach does not mean I do not respect the hunt or the animals that I have harvested. On the contrary, I have nothing but fondness and respect for the animals I have pursued and taken in all of my hunts. I could tell a long and descriptive narrative about each of the 13 animals I’ve hunted in my life. In fact, in a rather unorthodox tradition, I give names to each of my animals, which always relate to the story of their hunt and my thought process at the time (it’s also a way to guilt my wife into letting me put my mounts in certain places in the house because it personalizes the respective animal – strategery).
If you want to distill anything out my background from above, it’s that I truly find Africa to be a magical and special place, and I was very excited to be returning.
Location and Outfitter
Like in 2022, we hunted with Quagga Safaris (Erik Visser), who is based out of Limpopo near Lephalale. We originally hunted with Quagga after my brother drunkenly won Erik’s auction hunt at DSC back in 2019 (or it may have been 2020). Long story short, we have gotten to know Erik and his phenomenal team well over the last two years since our initial trip (heck, our primary purpose of going to DSC, and soon SCI, is just to meet up with them). The Quagga team includes many wonderful people, including some fantastic PH’s, Eon, Etienne (E.T.), Jaco, and Neil. This is a team that you can hunt all day with and then have no issues sitting around the fire afterwards back at camp. For this 11-day trip in 2024, my father got paired with Eon, my brother got paired with E.T., and I got paired with Jaco (my nephew started with my father but joined Jaco and I halfway through the trip). Serendipitously, these pairings would bear some wonderful and unique hunts.
Quagga operates the Manketti Game Reserve, which is owned by the Exxaro Grootegeluk mine. The Manketti Game Reserve has two main hunting areas: (1) an area of about 10,000 acres that surrounds the lodge and chalets and (2) the main Manketti area of about 56,000 acres. The two areas are separated by a parcel of fenced land, which the mine is trying to acquire, and are about a five-minute drive from each other.
The lodge area has smaller hunting blocks, while the main Manketti area has significantly larger blocks. The main Manketti area actually surrounds the mine, and while there were fences on the exterior of this area, there were many areas bordering the mine where fences were down or being replaced (hunting is not allowed in the mining areas for obvious reasons). Thus, in the main Manketti area, there was plenty of area for the animals to roam and even areas where they could fully evade hunters.
I know there’s a lot of discussion and debate about South Africa hunting and the term “high fence hunting” is commonly used as a derogatory assessment. However, I spent most of my time hunting the main Manketti area and I can attest that I seldom ever saw a fence, even after walking for hours (and, man, did we walk). I think any person would have no issue considering the hunting at the Manketti Game Reserve to be “fair chase,” in accordance with recognized standards in the industry.
Lodging and Food
“Relax, you’re in Africa now” was the phrase that the Quagga team greeted us with upon our arrival and they do their absolute best to maintain that motto and take care of you. Quagga will cater the trip to however you want it. If you want to do nothing but spend every waking minute hunting and only taking breaks for meals, they can facilitate that. If you’re like us, we loved to hunt hard, but then enjoy ourselves at the end of the day with a nice fire and a few cocktails.
The chalets at the lodge were phenomenal and very comfortable. Each of us had our own chalet, which was complete with bathroom, outdoor shower, and bathtub. It was way more than I needed, and it was very comfortable. A picture of the inside of my nephew’s chalet is provided below.
I was also fortunate that my chalet was right by the lodge’s waterhole, and I had plenty of nyala and waterbuck to watch.
The food at camp was amazing. Chef Lucky always does a phenomenal job with providing an exquisite and delicious dinner every night. We ended up trying various dishes made from wildebeest, gemsbok, sable, impala, kudu, buffalo, and eland. My personal favorite dishes were the eland tenderloin, the country fried sable, Lucky’s buffalo tails, and Lucky’s wildebeest stew (which is always amazing).
Breakfasts were generally simple and light, with various cereals, yogurts, and fruits being provided (the focus is getting out for the hunt). Lunches were delicious and varied depending on where you were hunting. If you were hunting in the lodge area, then you would generally go back to the lodge for lunch and Lucky would provide an amazing spread. I seldom was by the lodge for lunch (except the two afternoons I had to stay in for work Zoom calls), so I got to generally enjoy Lucky’s “bush lunches,” which were four-layered metal containers with each layer containing various appetizers, sandwiches, and/or other snacks prepared and provided by Lucky. It was a TON of food and, while we would usually take lunch sitting in a blind (make hay when the sun is shining…), it could be difficult staying awake in the blind after eating so much delicious food. I’m not ashamed to admit that I fell asleep on numerous occasions after a filling bush lunch.
Finally, there may be those of you who have an interest in the Devil’s Elixirs, such as fermented beverages and distilled spirits. I can assure you that the bar at the lodge is wonderful and stocked with whatever you want or need. We always had beers in the cooler for the sundowners and return trip back to camp (man, those are the BEST tasting beers in the world). Back at camp, we would enjoy the South African staple (i.e., vuil coke) and/or some delicious whiskey around the fire, and then South African wine with dinner. Erik knew our preferences (Single Malt Scotch and Irish whiskey) and had the bar stocked beforehand for our arrival. Many sound decisions were made around the fire, supplemented by a few sundowners.
Target Animals and the Boomsticks
Syncerus caffer caffer. Buffalo*. Nyati. Mbogo. The Black Death. The Widowmaker. Murder Bovine. Once you hunt a buffalo, you’ll want to do it again. It gets in your blood. Words just cannot adequately describe the adrenaline-filled escapade when you track and hunt a buffalo in the thick bushveld of Limpopo. In my previous buffalo hunt, we were on the old boy’s tracks for about five miles before I finally got a shot at about 25 yards (with minimal brush). After experiencing that endeavor in 2022, I was ready for another intimate dance in the Limpopo bush with another murder bovine. This was a sentiment also shared by my brother and father. My brother had also gotten a buffalo in 2022 and was ready for a second time. My father had previously gotten a buffalo back in Mozambique in 2009 and was wanting to go after one this time with my brother’s .375 double to reflect the “classical” buffalo hunt.
Besides the buffalo, I didn’t really have any other target animals. I had already lucked into completing my spiral slam on my last trip, in addition to getting a sable. Plus, I only had a finite amount of space for mounts (except for the buffalo, everything has been placed in my home office**). If presented with the opportunity, I figured I would take the “classic” African animals that people usually get on their first safaris, which I kind of skipped over previously (e.g., impala, wildebeest, warthog, etc.); however, I wasn’t inspired to make any of those animals a specific focus. Rather, I would just work with whatever the bush gave me. That being said, I did have a desire for “unique” trophies. More specifically, I’m not one to get too bent out of shape about inches; rather, I’d rather have something unique and unusual, such as broken horns (i.e., unicorns) and other oddities that most hunters won’t pursue because they’re not SCI trophies. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. All I know is that we had 11 days at the lodge, so we had some time to kill (literally and figuratively).
My predominant rifle that I used was a Ruger M77 Mark II Magnum .416 Rigby with 400 grain Swift A-Frames. This was the rifle originally purchased and used by my father in Mozambique back in 2009. I've become its sole user since then, especially as my father has moved on to his new custom .375 H&H. I also utilized a .300 Win Mag with Swift A-Frames on some of my later hunts when my nephew joined me.
*Inevitably will be referred to as the Asiatic “water buffalo” whenever someone unfamiliar with African fauna comes into my house and sees the mount (so pretty much every houseguest I have).
**Affectionally referred to as “The Celebration of Life Room” by me and “The Room of Death” by my wife and daughters.
The Actual Hunting Report (Finally)
The Arrival (Day 0)
Thankfully, our Delta flight from Atlanta to Johannesburg was rather uneventful. Learning from my previous trip in 2022, I didn’t screw around with trying to get myself to sleep on the plane. Thus, I made sure to medicate myself with a few drinks, melatonin, and a muscle relaxer (i.e., the good ol’ Jet Lag Cocktail). After that exquisite (and questionable) combination, I had no issue sleeping for half of the flight.
Upon landing, we spent the night at the Intercontinental Hotel at Tambo Airport. The next morning, we took a small plane out to the landing strip near Lephalale, where Erik picked us up. We arrived at the lodge in about 30 minutes, ate lunch, had a vuil coke (when in South Africa…), sighted in our rifles at the range, and then proceeded for a group drive through the lodge concession (i.e., the 10,000 acres surrounding the lodge). We ended up bringing out rifles with us because, hey, you never know what you may find.
Shortly after our departure, we spotted a nice impala, so my nephew got off to begin his first ever stalk. Like me on my first trip, my nephew had never been hunting before; thus, this was his first time. We figured putting him on a stalk for an impala was a good start to his trip. Meanwhile, while my nephew was stalking the impala, we came across a very nice black impala in the distance. Deferring the opportunity to my brother, he got off the truck and began his stalk. I was fine foregoing the black impala because it wasn’t on my list (besides, that is an animal that truly requires a shoulder mount and I only wanted Euro mounts).
During the aforementioned stalks, my father, sister-in-law, and I continued to drive around and just enjoy the bushveld. It was that time that we saw the biggest buffalo that we had ever seen in our lives. This bull was akin to a dinosaur. My previous buffalo back in 2022 was 42”, as was my brother’s, while my Dad’s from Mozambique was about 36” (however, it should be noted that any buffalo is special and amazing because they’re buffalo and it’s all about the hunt). This buffalo put all those previous buffalos to shame. According to the PH driving the truck, this monster was at least 50”. Numerous scenarios began running through our heads (heck, even my sister-in-law’s head and she doesn’t even hunt…) of pursuing this behemoth of the ages, but alas, we ended up just passing by and remained awestruck in his grandeur. I really, really wish I had a camera ready, but when you catch something so amazing, it can seemingly pass in an instant without giving you time to react.
During our buffalo encounter, we had our first successful hunt on the trip. My brother found and took down the black impala (shown below). It finished a first successful day of hunting. We ended the day by heading back to the lodge, sitting by the fire, eating a wonderful dinner, and going back to the fire for whiskey and cigars. It was a fantastic start to our safari.
The Pursuit of “Vader” – The Buffalo (Day 1)
“I lurched up and looked at Mbogo, and Mbogo looked at me. He was 50 to 60 yards off, his head low, his eyes staring right down my soul. He looked at me as if he hated my guts. He looked as if I had despoiled his fiancee, murdered his mother, and burned down his house. He looked at me as if I owed him money. I never saw such malevolence in the eyes of any animal or human being, before or since. So, I shot him.” - Robert Ruark
It's very difficult trying to describe experiencing the African bush to someone who has never been, especially when that person has never traveled abroad and/or has very limited outdoor experience. However, trying to describe the experience of hunting a buffalo to someone who doesn’t hunt (and sometimes even to those who do hunt, but have never hunted dangerous game) is seemingly damn near impossible.
To me, and it seems to be a sentiment shared by several other buffalo hunters I have discussed it with, hunting Nyati is reminiscent of an emotional dance of life and death in very intimate corridors with an animal that could easily flatten you, impale you, and otherwise just maim and kill you in any way that best suits it. And don’t overlook the emotional aspect of this endeavor (even if you consider yourself a stoic man, we all know what we face internally). A true excursion after buffalo can be populated with a myriad of emotions, such as hope, fear, despair, regret, anger, fear (yes, again), doubt, bravado, happiness, and jubilation. However, all of these emotions are generally suppressed during the hunt by a healthy dose of adrenaline. Ah, yes, adrenaline, that happy little hormone that pushes everything to the back of our mind during the pursuit of a large bovine that could absolutely murder you in a second and not think twice, especially when you’re entering his home turf and the surrounding thorns are simply “baby kisses” to him, while they’re meat tenderizers to us. It’s always good to push “that” last intruding thought to the darkest and deepest corners of one’s mind while entering the thick bush for Nyati.
The other issue about buffalos is that they are built like an Arnold Schwarzenegger Terminator. As the conventional saying goes, “If your first shot fails to kill Nyati, the subsequent ten will only serve to annoy him.” When you’re built like an armored truck, and your only natural predator are lions, you can be somewhat difficult to take down. That is why a proper caliber rifle and shot placement are so important.
One last important note about an unintended side benefit of buffalo hunting is your firsthand inspection and education of the local African flora. Although you may not be able to cite the scientific genus and species of the various flora in Nyati’s bushveld, you will soon be very physically intimate with them all. Upon rapid realization, you will discover that most of them have thorns of various sizes, and everyone calls them something different. There are the long thorns of the Acacia (not bad); the severe hooks of the “hat stealer” (my term) or “stick around” trees (easily love to stick into your arm and leg); and the ubiquitous buffalo thorns with their small detachable thorns that love to attach and imbed themselves in your skin. If you aren’t careful in Nyati’s home, you can emerge looking like a pincushion; although, that’s the least of your concerns with Nyati being around and disapproving of your presence.
Turning back to my individual exploits, I awoke on this day knowing we would be looking for buffalo tracks. I was hunting with Jaco Kruger, the new PH at Quagga, but a PH with over 20+ years of experience (he has known Erik for years and recently joined Quagga from another outfitter). We were venturing out to the Manketti area (i.e., the 56,000-acre concession) to an area where Jaco had previously spotted and attempted to track an old dagga boy. However, this dagga boy was known to be quite clever and would constantly evade tracking by commonly venturing into the “no hunting” zone of the mine.
It was a beautiful, crisp morning in Limpopo. The wind was in our favor and sky was overcast. We departed for the far expanses of the Manketti to search for buffalo tracks and to see if this old dagga boy had left any fresh tracks. On the way to the area, we passed by a herd of about five giraffes who watched us very curiously.
Upon arriving to the waterhole that the dagga boy had been known to frequent, we discovered some fresh buffalo tracks, and the game was afoot!
We followed the tracks for about 25 minutes through the thick bush when, suddenly, the bush about five feet to the left of me started to shake and move. Alarmed, I quickly pulled up the .416 into position and got Jaco’s attention. With the intensity of ten burning suns, we carefully watched the shaking bush not knowing what could emerge. Was it the buffalo, hellbent on dispatching us early in our hunt? Was it some spooked antelope destined to scare everything in the area by haphazardly running for miles? We stood there with intense apprehension when, suddenly, two adult porcupines emerged and waddled away from us obviously annoyed that we disrupted their sleep and/or coital embrace. Fortunately, the porcupines decided not to take out the frustrations over their disrupted sleep and/or lovemaking by attempting to deposit several quills into our legs, which would have sorely hindered our pursuit of the buffalo.
Leaving the porcupines to their desired pursuits, we kept on the tracks of the buffalo. For another 30 minutes, we diligently followed his tracks through the thick bush. Suddenly, Jaco told me to get down. About 70 yards away, you could see the horns of a large buffalo cow sticking out from the bush. Slowly and methodically, with the patience of Job, Jaco put the sticks up and whispered for me to look in the direction to the right of the cow. I quietly crawled to the sticks and slowly positioned the .416 in the direction noted by Jaco…and there he was, or at least, just his head sticking out of the thick bush. The right side of the buffalo was positioned towards us, but only his head was visible through the thick bush. I had the scope positioned on him and we were waiting for him to emerge so I could get a shot on his shoulder. However, he was staring right at us. He saw us, but he couldn’t quite figure out what we were, especially since we were mostly concealed behind a bush. I looked through my scope at him just staring me down at about 50 yards away. We stood in that passive staring contest for about ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity. The sticks felt a little high, but I didn’t dare move an inch to adjust them in fear of spooking this magnificent animal. I could feel my body tighten up with the adrenaline and I had to do my best to control the shaking of my extended leg. Any millimeter of movement could betray our position and intent.
During this eternal staring contest, the innocent thought occurred to me, “Wow, we sure found this buffalo quickly this time, as opposed to the last trip, which took about four solid days of buffalo hunting. I’m so lucky because this just seems so easy!” Why, OH WHY, did I have this intrusive thought pop in my head? The hunting gods, who took pity on me during my first trip, would ultimately make me pay for my hubris and insolence.
Finally, after a period of time in which it seemed that stars were created and destroyed, the buffalo finally decided we were just some disinteresting ugly antelope, and he stepped forward and it was there – the shoulder or the possible heart/lung shot! In that split second, I decided to go after the heart/lung shot because it had worked so well on my first buffalo. I quickly aimed the .416 accordingly and let it sing…and in that split second of pulling the trigger, THE BUFFALO QUARTERED AWAY FROM US. Thus, rather than getting my desired heart and lung shot, I accomplished a gut shot through the rear right side that likely went through the stomach, nicked a lung, and stuck in the liver. According to Jaco, if I was four inches higher and went after the shoulder shot, I would have had him down regardless of the quartering. By the time I had reloaded for a second shot, the buffalo had already run off. Thus, I was now dealing with a wounded buffalo, enhanced with adrenaline, who rapidly took off despite his wound.
Buffalos love the thick bush. Wounded buffalos love the thickest bush imaginable. And that’s where we had to go and track him. At first, we hoped he was in the original thicket where he was spotted. We circled it until we got favorable wind and then slowly went in. Unfortunately, only a couple of steenboks ran out of the thicket in the position where we thought he was. Thus, we had to go track him. Complicating matters were the initial tracks of about three buffalo cows and another bull who was hanging around the cows. After finding the blood trail, we were on his tracks.
I really wish I could say we found him after a short track, but that buffalo kept ahead of us with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. We then backed off for a short period and took a break for lunch. It was our hope that by pausing our pursuit, his adrenaline levels would dissipate, and his wound would largely incapacitate him, thereby making his tracking easier. Pushing him while his adrenaline levels were still high proved difficult because he was able to push through everything. A buffalo on one lung can still push himself to do amazing feats of strength and resilience.
I could hardly eat anything at lunch. Like the buffalo, I was hopped up on adrenaline. Worst yet, I was berating myself for the stupidity of my shot and questioning everything about my thought process. Why did I have to go after the heart/lung? Why did I take that shot? Why did I have to think that this hunt was going to be easy after finding him so early? I decided during that lunch that I had jinxed myself. As I mentioned previously, a good buffalo hunt can be an emotional rollercoaster and this hunt was no exception.
Joining me for lunch, because their PH (E.T.) was assisting us on the buffalo track as an extra rifle, were my brother and sister-in-law. My brother had a productive morning and bagged his first blue wildebeest bull. Stuck in my own headspace, I think I mumbled “congratulations” to him, mostly consumed by own pursuit and conflicted by jealously over his success.
The pursuit began again after lunch, and we went at it hard. Tracking a wounded buffalo can be a nerve-racking endeavor. You are carefully trekking through the buffalo’s home terrain, where movement can be difficult for you, but not them. At any moment, you could encounter the buffalo and deal with a charge at very close proximity. Thus, not only do you have to trek through difficult terrain, but you constantly need to be at your full attention. I recall being in about six different spots during our trek through incredibly thick bush thinking to myself, “If we get charged here, I’m royally ****ed.” You do your best to push those intrusive thoughts to the back of your mind and focus on the agenda at hand. I was cradling the .416 like a loving mother with her infant child and I wasn’t going to let my baby get too far from me during this endeavor.
All-in-all, we trekked about six miles through the thickest bush and all of us looked like minced meat from the various thorns. Like a courteous host, the one thing that the bushveld is very gracious on providing is thorns, particularly thorns of every variety. It made me greatly appreciate the trackers (Clive and Jackson) and the PHs (Jaco, and E.T.), particularly since they were taking this damage on my account. Near the end, everyone was cut up and exhausted. To make matters worse, in a moment of excitement and distraction (likely exacerbated by exhaustion), I tripped into a warthog hole. In attempt to help me, Jaco similarly fell in a separate nearby warthog hole. It was at that point that I hit bottom (both literally in the hole and mentally). We were pushing hard after this buffalo, and yet he kept eluding us. I questioned every decision I had made that day and kept calling myself a “damned fool.”
Finally, after what seemed like ages traveling through a purgatory of thorns, we found him, and just in the nick of time as we were approaching dusk. The strategy had worked. He was laying down and not moving when we approached. I regret making this magnificent animal suffer like I did based on my poor shot placement, so we wanted to quickly end his suffering and make sure he was fully incapacitated to deter any possible charges. I put another shot from the .416 near his spine in attempt to fully disable him and put him down. However, that shot seemed to put a surge of energy through him and he raised his head in an attempt to get up. At this action, I put another two insurance shots from the .416 in him and Jaco assisted with a shot from his .375. That was the end of him.
I had him. I had finally got “Vader,” which was the name I designated for this magnificent animal. As noted above, I give my animals names that reflect the hunt. However, Vader was different. To me, this buffalo represented the purpose of our trip, which was based on my father. Thus, I felt “Vader,” which is Dutch and Afrikaans for “father,” to be a good symbolic name for this buffalo (furthermore, it can be argued that “Vader” had a similar temperament to my actual father, but we’re not going down that patricidal rabbit hole). Furthermore, if you want to tie in popular cultural references, I am in my early-40’s and, therefore, Star Wars was a huge influence on me growing up. Thus, a predominantly black buffalo would be an adequate representation of “Darth Vader” in the animal world. Regardless of my proffered rationale, I had finally got “Vader,” who measured about 42” wide.
Finally, I feel it necessary to discourage the wearing of any shirt containing wool while in the bushveld. For this hunt, I was wearing one of Kuiu’s light merino wool shirts, since it was winter in South Africa. I might as well have been wearing double-sided tape. That shirt attracted thorns like fat guys to a picnic. As shown below, the shirt got cut up fairly significantly during my trek.
Turning back to my nephew and father, they spent the day out in the lodge hunting area with Eon. My father’s target animal for this hunt was a monster sable, but they were also looking for something interesting for my nephew’s first animal. Lo and behold, they crossed paths with a sable that my nephew ended up taking (as shown below). Thus, like his uncle, the first animal that my nephew ever hunted and harvested was a beautiful 43” sable! My father was very proud and on cloud nine at this point.
The return to camp was festive and highly upbeat. It was an excellent day of hunting and as we convened at the lodge, Erik informed us that we were the first group ever to get a buffalo and sable on their first full day. Thus, it was a time for celebration. I went back to my chalet and grabbed the special bottle of Redbreast Irish Whiskey (Tawny Port Cask) I had brought along in the event of my successful buffalo hunt. The environment at the lodge turned festive and, before we knew it, my Dad got Neil (Erik’s son-in-law) to open up the lodge’s new social room (complete with TV and surround sound) and start blasting classic rock from the 70’s and 80’s. I’m sure there were some antelope in the distance around the camp grooving to some AC/DC and Grand Funk Railroad. My father continued the musical show later in the night when he serenaded the camp in his outdoor shower at his chalet (his voice carried well into the night).
As time passed into the night, I decided it was time to take the “buffalo plunge.” If there is anything that I have contributed to the operations of Quagga Safaris, it’s the “buffalo plunge.” Two years ago, after successfully hunting my first buffalo, I jumped into the pool in order to officially baptize myself in the crocodile-free waters of Africa. Similarly, after my brother finished his buffalo hunt two years ago, he also ended up taking the plunge. As you may note, it was wintertime in Limpopo when we travel down there, so the pool doesn’t see a lot of use at that time. Since our departure two years ago, a tradition has started that buffalo hunters, who can tolerate the cold, take their plunge and celebrate their conquering of the buffalo. Knowing my time had come once again, and shedding the emotions from the crazy day, I ripped off my cut-up hunting shirt like the Incredible Hulk and took my plunge. The water felt great – not as cold as a cold spring in the Ozarks, but a little brisk on an African night where the air temperature was about 62°F (16.6°C). Feeling the need to savor my victory over Nyati, and having a natural resistance to the cold, I lit up a cigar and stayed in the pool for the next hour.
This is probably a good interlude to tell you about my magical whiskey glass at the lodge that night. It was a modern marvel and one of the greater mysteries in our universe today because it seemingly violated the Law of Conservation of Matter, which dictates that matter and energy cannot be created or destroyed. However, in defiance of the physical laws governing our universe, my whiskey glass never seemed to get empty. Rather, every time that I looked away, my seemingly almost-empty glass would somehow fill itself. And I, as a man who respects the time and effort that a distiller puts into making the Devil’s Elixir, felt obliged and ethically compelled to consume all the beautiful tapestry of flavors put before me.
Normally, according to Neil at Quagga, most buffalo hunters finish the hunt brimming with adrenaline, start the night super excited, and then quickly crash when the adrenaline subsides. Fortunately (or unfortunately), I was not affected by this affliction. Rather, my physics-defying whiskey glass combined with the brisk pool water kept me going until I ascended into the next state of being. This ascended state of being may be best described by the late, great Jimmy Buffet when he claimed, “I wasn't knee crawlin', slip slidin', Reggie Youngin' Commode huggin' drunk…I was God’s own drunk and a fearless man!” Now that I had officially ascended to become God’s Own Drunk and a fearless man, who had conquered the buffalo, I knew I was impervious to all and everything that the bush had thrown at me. What could possibly hurt me?
This was my second excursion out to South Africa with Quagga Safaris, my first being two years ago in June 2022 (as previously covered in my earlier report). In fact, this latest trip was only the second hunting trip of my life, with my first Africa trip constituting my first hunting trip…ever. When I say hunting trip, I mean hunting period. I didn’t grow up hunting and I didn’t hunt for the first time until I was the spry age of 39. Rather, I grew up in the Midwest of the U.S. (think where championship football is currently played in the U.S.) and spent a lot of time fishing. I loved the outdoors but had zero interest in hunting the local whitetail (I never found their meat appetizing, but to each their own…).
Long story short, as hashed out in my previous report, I went to South Africa in 2022 with my father, my brother, and my sister-in-law and hunted with Quagga Safaris. Knowing that the odds of this previous trip happening were 50/50, I didn’t really do much research for the first trip. Although I did very well on my first hunt - I got a beautiful buffalo (shown below), a beautiful sable, an eland of questionable intelligence, a suicidal kudu, a barking bushbuck, and a nice nyala - my lack of research definitely showed during this first trip. For instance, our first trip was an auction hunt from DSC, and I was the one delegated (by my brother and father) to hunt the bushbuck with the tag we had from the auction. At that point, I had absolutely no idea what a bushbuck was or what it looked like. I looked for a bushbuck shoulder mount at the lodge and that was my gauge on what to look for (along with the PH’s amazing patience, directions, and teachings). Fortunately, I was incredibly lucky on this first hunt and was able to take everything down with one shot, except the sable (it took two and that was my first ever animal I hunted). Needless to say, I was fairly ignorant and naïve, but incredibly lucky on this first experience. Regardless of my inexperience, I fell absolutely in love with the African bush and vowed with my brother that we would be back one day (as long as my wife didn’t leave me for bringing back twice as many trophies as I thought I would get…).
However, based on unfortunate developments, our planned return was expedited well ahead of schedule. Shortly after returning from our first hunt, my mother’s cancer came back and took her from us only a few months after our return. My father was devastated and inconsolable. Grasping for any means to console our father, my brother and I proposed a return to Africa in 2024, in the hopes of giving our father something to look forward to (and, selfishly, also for something to distract my brother and I during this time). For us, Africa provided us with a distraction and, ideally, an opportunity to escape and possibly heal some of our wounds. As Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows.” Thus, we booked this return trip with Quagga Safaris for June 2024. For this trip, it would be my father, my brother, my sister-in-law, my nephew (my sister’s son), and myself.
Why have I shared all this personal information with you? Because I think it’s relevant for understanding and appreciating my frame of reference when reading the following report. As can be extrapolated from above, I lack extensive experience in hunting, but have grown immensely in my understanding, studies, and appreciation over the last two years. However, due to my lack of experience, I am not blinded by hubris and am more than willing to admit my faults and naivety. Furthermore, my work and life are stressful enough as it is, so I try to take a lighthearted approach in my hunting report (because hunting is supposed to be my escape). This approach does not mean I do not respect the hunt or the animals that I have harvested. On the contrary, I have nothing but fondness and respect for the animals I have pursued and taken in all of my hunts. I could tell a long and descriptive narrative about each of the 13 animals I’ve hunted in my life. In fact, in a rather unorthodox tradition, I give names to each of my animals, which always relate to the story of their hunt and my thought process at the time (it’s also a way to guilt my wife into letting me put my mounts in certain places in the house because it personalizes the respective animal – strategery).
If you want to distill anything out my background from above, it’s that I truly find Africa to be a magical and special place, and I was very excited to be returning.
Location and Outfitter
Like in 2022, we hunted with Quagga Safaris (Erik Visser), who is based out of Limpopo near Lephalale. We originally hunted with Quagga after my brother drunkenly won Erik’s auction hunt at DSC back in 2019 (or it may have been 2020). Long story short, we have gotten to know Erik and his phenomenal team well over the last two years since our initial trip (heck, our primary purpose of going to DSC, and soon SCI, is just to meet up with them). The Quagga team includes many wonderful people, including some fantastic PH’s, Eon, Etienne (E.T.), Jaco, and Neil. This is a team that you can hunt all day with and then have no issues sitting around the fire afterwards back at camp. For this 11-day trip in 2024, my father got paired with Eon, my brother got paired with E.T., and I got paired with Jaco (my nephew started with my father but joined Jaco and I halfway through the trip). Serendipitously, these pairings would bear some wonderful and unique hunts.
Quagga operates the Manketti Game Reserve, which is owned by the Exxaro Grootegeluk mine. The Manketti Game Reserve has two main hunting areas: (1) an area of about 10,000 acres that surrounds the lodge and chalets and (2) the main Manketti area of about 56,000 acres. The two areas are separated by a parcel of fenced land, which the mine is trying to acquire, and are about a five-minute drive from each other.
The lodge area has smaller hunting blocks, while the main Manketti area has significantly larger blocks. The main Manketti area actually surrounds the mine, and while there were fences on the exterior of this area, there were many areas bordering the mine where fences were down or being replaced (hunting is not allowed in the mining areas for obvious reasons). Thus, in the main Manketti area, there was plenty of area for the animals to roam and even areas where they could fully evade hunters.
I know there’s a lot of discussion and debate about South Africa hunting and the term “high fence hunting” is commonly used as a derogatory assessment. However, I spent most of my time hunting the main Manketti area and I can attest that I seldom ever saw a fence, even after walking for hours (and, man, did we walk). I think any person would have no issue considering the hunting at the Manketti Game Reserve to be “fair chase,” in accordance with recognized standards in the industry.
Lodging and Food
“Relax, you’re in Africa now” was the phrase that the Quagga team greeted us with upon our arrival and they do their absolute best to maintain that motto and take care of you. Quagga will cater the trip to however you want it. If you want to do nothing but spend every waking minute hunting and only taking breaks for meals, they can facilitate that. If you’re like us, we loved to hunt hard, but then enjoy ourselves at the end of the day with a nice fire and a few cocktails.
The chalets at the lodge were phenomenal and very comfortable. Each of us had our own chalet, which was complete with bathroom, outdoor shower, and bathtub. It was way more than I needed, and it was very comfortable. A picture of the inside of my nephew’s chalet is provided below.
I was also fortunate that my chalet was right by the lodge’s waterhole, and I had plenty of nyala and waterbuck to watch.
The food at camp was amazing. Chef Lucky always does a phenomenal job with providing an exquisite and delicious dinner every night. We ended up trying various dishes made from wildebeest, gemsbok, sable, impala, kudu, buffalo, and eland. My personal favorite dishes were the eland tenderloin, the country fried sable, Lucky’s buffalo tails, and Lucky’s wildebeest stew (which is always amazing).
Breakfasts were generally simple and light, with various cereals, yogurts, and fruits being provided (the focus is getting out for the hunt). Lunches were delicious and varied depending on where you were hunting. If you were hunting in the lodge area, then you would generally go back to the lodge for lunch and Lucky would provide an amazing spread. I seldom was by the lodge for lunch (except the two afternoons I had to stay in for work Zoom calls), so I got to generally enjoy Lucky’s “bush lunches,” which were four-layered metal containers with each layer containing various appetizers, sandwiches, and/or other snacks prepared and provided by Lucky. It was a TON of food and, while we would usually take lunch sitting in a blind (make hay when the sun is shining…), it could be difficult staying awake in the blind after eating so much delicious food. I’m not ashamed to admit that I fell asleep on numerous occasions after a filling bush lunch.
Finally, there may be those of you who have an interest in the Devil’s Elixirs, such as fermented beverages and distilled spirits. I can assure you that the bar at the lodge is wonderful and stocked with whatever you want or need. We always had beers in the cooler for the sundowners and return trip back to camp (man, those are the BEST tasting beers in the world). Back at camp, we would enjoy the South African staple (i.e., vuil coke) and/or some delicious whiskey around the fire, and then South African wine with dinner. Erik knew our preferences (Single Malt Scotch and Irish whiskey) and had the bar stocked beforehand for our arrival. Many sound decisions were made around the fire, supplemented by a few sundowners.
Target Animals and the Boomsticks
Syncerus caffer caffer. Buffalo*. Nyati. Mbogo. The Black Death. The Widowmaker. Murder Bovine. Once you hunt a buffalo, you’ll want to do it again. It gets in your blood. Words just cannot adequately describe the adrenaline-filled escapade when you track and hunt a buffalo in the thick bushveld of Limpopo. In my previous buffalo hunt, we were on the old boy’s tracks for about five miles before I finally got a shot at about 25 yards (with minimal brush). After experiencing that endeavor in 2022, I was ready for another intimate dance in the Limpopo bush with another murder bovine. This was a sentiment also shared by my brother and father. My brother had also gotten a buffalo in 2022 and was ready for a second time. My father had previously gotten a buffalo back in Mozambique in 2009 and was wanting to go after one this time with my brother’s .375 double to reflect the “classical” buffalo hunt.
Besides the buffalo, I didn’t really have any other target animals. I had already lucked into completing my spiral slam on my last trip, in addition to getting a sable. Plus, I only had a finite amount of space for mounts (except for the buffalo, everything has been placed in my home office**). If presented with the opportunity, I figured I would take the “classic” African animals that people usually get on their first safaris, which I kind of skipped over previously (e.g., impala, wildebeest, warthog, etc.); however, I wasn’t inspired to make any of those animals a specific focus. Rather, I would just work with whatever the bush gave me. That being said, I did have a desire for “unique” trophies. More specifically, I’m not one to get too bent out of shape about inches; rather, I’d rather have something unique and unusual, such as broken horns (i.e., unicorns) and other oddities that most hunters won’t pursue because they’re not SCI trophies. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. All I know is that we had 11 days at the lodge, so we had some time to kill (literally and figuratively).
My predominant rifle that I used was a Ruger M77 Mark II Magnum .416 Rigby with 400 grain Swift A-Frames. This was the rifle originally purchased and used by my father in Mozambique back in 2009. I've become its sole user since then, especially as my father has moved on to his new custom .375 H&H. I also utilized a .300 Win Mag with Swift A-Frames on some of my later hunts when my nephew joined me.
*Inevitably will be referred to as the Asiatic “water buffalo” whenever someone unfamiliar with African fauna comes into my house and sees the mount (so pretty much every houseguest I have).
**Affectionally referred to as “The Celebration of Life Room” by me and “The Room of Death” by my wife and daughters.
The Actual Hunting Report (Finally)
The Arrival (Day 0)
Thankfully, our Delta flight from Atlanta to Johannesburg was rather uneventful. Learning from my previous trip in 2022, I didn’t screw around with trying to get myself to sleep on the plane. Thus, I made sure to medicate myself with a few drinks, melatonin, and a muscle relaxer (i.e., the good ol’ Jet Lag Cocktail). After that exquisite (and questionable) combination, I had no issue sleeping for half of the flight.
Upon landing, we spent the night at the Intercontinental Hotel at Tambo Airport. The next morning, we took a small plane out to the landing strip near Lephalale, where Erik picked us up. We arrived at the lodge in about 30 minutes, ate lunch, had a vuil coke (when in South Africa…), sighted in our rifles at the range, and then proceeded for a group drive through the lodge concession (i.e., the 10,000 acres surrounding the lodge). We ended up bringing out rifles with us because, hey, you never know what you may find.
Shortly after our departure, we spotted a nice impala, so my nephew got off to begin his first ever stalk. Like me on my first trip, my nephew had never been hunting before; thus, this was his first time. We figured putting him on a stalk for an impala was a good start to his trip. Meanwhile, while my nephew was stalking the impala, we came across a very nice black impala in the distance. Deferring the opportunity to my brother, he got off the truck and began his stalk. I was fine foregoing the black impala because it wasn’t on my list (besides, that is an animal that truly requires a shoulder mount and I only wanted Euro mounts).
During the aforementioned stalks, my father, sister-in-law, and I continued to drive around and just enjoy the bushveld. It was that time that we saw the biggest buffalo that we had ever seen in our lives. This bull was akin to a dinosaur. My previous buffalo back in 2022 was 42”, as was my brother’s, while my Dad’s from Mozambique was about 36” (however, it should be noted that any buffalo is special and amazing because they’re buffalo and it’s all about the hunt). This buffalo put all those previous buffalos to shame. According to the PH driving the truck, this monster was at least 50”. Numerous scenarios began running through our heads (heck, even my sister-in-law’s head and she doesn’t even hunt…) of pursuing this behemoth of the ages, but alas, we ended up just passing by and remained awestruck in his grandeur. I really, really wish I had a camera ready, but when you catch something so amazing, it can seemingly pass in an instant without giving you time to react.
During our buffalo encounter, we had our first successful hunt on the trip. My brother found and took down the black impala (shown below). It finished a first successful day of hunting. We ended the day by heading back to the lodge, sitting by the fire, eating a wonderful dinner, and going back to the fire for whiskey and cigars. It was a fantastic start to our safari.
The Pursuit of “Vader” – The Buffalo (Day 1)
“I lurched up and looked at Mbogo, and Mbogo looked at me. He was 50 to 60 yards off, his head low, his eyes staring right down my soul. He looked at me as if he hated my guts. He looked as if I had despoiled his fiancee, murdered his mother, and burned down his house. He looked at me as if I owed him money. I never saw such malevolence in the eyes of any animal or human being, before or since. So, I shot him.” - Robert Ruark
It's very difficult trying to describe experiencing the African bush to someone who has never been, especially when that person has never traveled abroad and/or has very limited outdoor experience. However, trying to describe the experience of hunting a buffalo to someone who doesn’t hunt (and sometimes even to those who do hunt, but have never hunted dangerous game) is seemingly damn near impossible.
To me, and it seems to be a sentiment shared by several other buffalo hunters I have discussed it with, hunting Nyati is reminiscent of an emotional dance of life and death in very intimate corridors with an animal that could easily flatten you, impale you, and otherwise just maim and kill you in any way that best suits it. And don’t overlook the emotional aspect of this endeavor (even if you consider yourself a stoic man, we all know what we face internally). A true excursion after buffalo can be populated with a myriad of emotions, such as hope, fear, despair, regret, anger, fear (yes, again), doubt, bravado, happiness, and jubilation. However, all of these emotions are generally suppressed during the hunt by a healthy dose of adrenaline. Ah, yes, adrenaline, that happy little hormone that pushes everything to the back of our mind during the pursuit of a large bovine that could absolutely murder you in a second and not think twice, especially when you’re entering his home turf and the surrounding thorns are simply “baby kisses” to him, while they’re meat tenderizers to us. It’s always good to push “that” last intruding thought to the darkest and deepest corners of one’s mind while entering the thick bush for Nyati.
The other issue about buffalos is that they are built like an Arnold Schwarzenegger Terminator. As the conventional saying goes, “If your first shot fails to kill Nyati, the subsequent ten will only serve to annoy him.” When you’re built like an armored truck, and your only natural predator are lions, you can be somewhat difficult to take down. That is why a proper caliber rifle and shot placement are so important.
One last important note about an unintended side benefit of buffalo hunting is your firsthand inspection and education of the local African flora. Although you may not be able to cite the scientific genus and species of the various flora in Nyati’s bushveld, you will soon be very physically intimate with them all. Upon rapid realization, you will discover that most of them have thorns of various sizes, and everyone calls them something different. There are the long thorns of the Acacia (not bad); the severe hooks of the “hat stealer” (my term) or “stick around” trees (easily love to stick into your arm and leg); and the ubiquitous buffalo thorns with their small detachable thorns that love to attach and imbed themselves in your skin. If you aren’t careful in Nyati’s home, you can emerge looking like a pincushion; although, that’s the least of your concerns with Nyati being around and disapproving of your presence.
Turning back to my individual exploits, I awoke on this day knowing we would be looking for buffalo tracks. I was hunting with Jaco Kruger, the new PH at Quagga, but a PH with over 20+ years of experience (he has known Erik for years and recently joined Quagga from another outfitter). We were venturing out to the Manketti area (i.e., the 56,000-acre concession) to an area where Jaco had previously spotted and attempted to track an old dagga boy. However, this dagga boy was known to be quite clever and would constantly evade tracking by commonly venturing into the “no hunting” zone of the mine.
It was a beautiful, crisp morning in Limpopo. The wind was in our favor and sky was overcast. We departed for the far expanses of the Manketti to search for buffalo tracks and to see if this old dagga boy had left any fresh tracks. On the way to the area, we passed by a herd of about five giraffes who watched us very curiously.
Upon arriving to the waterhole that the dagga boy had been known to frequent, we discovered some fresh buffalo tracks, and the game was afoot!
We followed the tracks for about 25 minutes through the thick bush when, suddenly, the bush about five feet to the left of me started to shake and move. Alarmed, I quickly pulled up the .416 into position and got Jaco’s attention. With the intensity of ten burning suns, we carefully watched the shaking bush not knowing what could emerge. Was it the buffalo, hellbent on dispatching us early in our hunt? Was it some spooked antelope destined to scare everything in the area by haphazardly running for miles? We stood there with intense apprehension when, suddenly, two adult porcupines emerged and waddled away from us obviously annoyed that we disrupted their sleep and/or coital embrace. Fortunately, the porcupines decided not to take out the frustrations over their disrupted sleep and/or lovemaking by attempting to deposit several quills into our legs, which would have sorely hindered our pursuit of the buffalo.
Leaving the porcupines to their desired pursuits, we kept on the tracks of the buffalo. For another 30 minutes, we diligently followed his tracks through the thick bush. Suddenly, Jaco told me to get down. About 70 yards away, you could see the horns of a large buffalo cow sticking out from the bush. Slowly and methodically, with the patience of Job, Jaco put the sticks up and whispered for me to look in the direction to the right of the cow. I quietly crawled to the sticks and slowly positioned the .416 in the direction noted by Jaco…and there he was, or at least, just his head sticking out of the thick bush. The right side of the buffalo was positioned towards us, but only his head was visible through the thick bush. I had the scope positioned on him and we were waiting for him to emerge so I could get a shot on his shoulder. However, he was staring right at us. He saw us, but he couldn’t quite figure out what we were, especially since we were mostly concealed behind a bush. I looked through my scope at him just staring me down at about 50 yards away. We stood in that passive staring contest for about ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity. The sticks felt a little high, but I didn’t dare move an inch to adjust them in fear of spooking this magnificent animal. I could feel my body tighten up with the adrenaline and I had to do my best to control the shaking of my extended leg. Any millimeter of movement could betray our position and intent.
During this eternal staring contest, the innocent thought occurred to me, “Wow, we sure found this buffalo quickly this time, as opposed to the last trip, which took about four solid days of buffalo hunting. I’m so lucky because this just seems so easy!” Why, OH WHY, did I have this intrusive thought pop in my head? The hunting gods, who took pity on me during my first trip, would ultimately make me pay for my hubris and insolence.
Finally, after a period of time in which it seemed that stars were created and destroyed, the buffalo finally decided we were just some disinteresting ugly antelope, and he stepped forward and it was there – the shoulder or the possible heart/lung shot! In that split second, I decided to go after the heart/lung shot because it had worked so well on my first buffalo. I quickly aimed the .416 accordingly and let it sing…and in that split second of pulling the trigger, THE BUFFALO QUARTERED AWAY FROM US. Thus, rather than getting my desired heart and lung shot, I accomplished a gut shot through the rear right side that likely went through the stomach, nicked a lung, and stuck in the liver. According to Jaco, if I was four inches higher and went after the shoulder shot, I would have had him down regardless of the quartering. By the time I had reloaded for a second shot, the buffalo had already run off. Thus, I was now dealing with a wounded buffalo, enhanced with adrenaline, who rapidly took off despite his wound.
Buffalos love the thick bush. Wounded buffalos love the thickest bush imaginable. And that’s where we had to go and track him. At first, we hoped he was in the original thicket where he was spotted. We circled it until we got favorable wind and then slowly went in. Unfortunately, only a couple of steenboks ran out of the thicket in the position where we thought he was. Thus, we had to go track him. Complicating matters were the initial tracks of about three buffalo cows and another bull who was hanging around the cows. After finding the blood trail, we were on his tracks.
I really wish I could say we found him after a short track, but that buffalo kept ahead of us with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. We then backed off for a short period and took a break for lunch. It was our hope that by pausing our pursuit, his adrenaline levels would dissipate, and his wound would largely incapacitate him, thereby making his tracking easier. Pushing him while his adrenaline levels were still high proved difficult because he was able to push through everything. A buffalo on one lung can still push himself to do amazing feats of strength and resilience.
I could hardly eat anything at lunch. Like the buffalo, I was hopped up on adrenaline. Worst yet, I was berating myself for the stupidity of my shot and questioning everything about my thought process. Why did I have to go after the heart/lung? Why did I take that shot? Why did I have to think that this hunt was going to be easy after finding him so early? I decided during that lunch that I had jinxed myself. As I mentioned previously, a good buffalo hunt can be an emotional rollercoaster and this hunt was no exception.
Joining me for lunch, because their PH (E.T.) was assisting us on the buffalo track as an extra rifle, were my brother and sister-in-law. My brother had a productive morning and bagged his first blue wildebeest bull. Stuck in my own headspace, I think I mumbled “congratulations” to him, mostly consumed by own pursuit and conflicted by jealously over his success.
The pursuit began again after lunch, and we went at it hard. Tracking a wounded buffalo can be a nerve-racking endeavor. You are carefully trekking through the buffalo’s home terrain, where movement can be difficult for you, but not them. At any moment, you could encounter the buffalo and deal with a charge at very close proximity. Thus, not only do you have to trek through difficult terrain, but you constantly need to be at your full attention. I recall being in about six different spots during our trek through incredibly thick bush thinking to myself, “If we get charged here, I’m royally ****ed.” You do your best to push those intrusive thoughts to the back of your mind and focus on the agenda at hand. I was cradling the .416 like a loving mother with her infant child and I wasn’t going to let my baby get too far from me during this endeavor.
All-in-all, we trekked about six miles through the thickest bush and all of us looked like minced meat from the various thorns. Like a courteous host, the one thing that the bushveld is very gracious on providing is thorns, particularly thorns of every variety. It made me greatly appreciate the trackers (Clive and Jackson) and the PHs (Jaco, and E.T.), particularly since they were taking this damage on my account. Near the end, everyone was cut up and exhausted. To make matters worse, in a moment of excitement and distraction (likely exacerbated by exhaustion), I tripped into a warthog hole. In attempt to help me, Jaco similarly fell in a separate nearby warthog hole. It was at that point that I hit bottom (both literally in the hole and mentally). We were pushing hard after this buffalo, and yet he kept eluding us. I questioned every decision I had made that day and kept calling myself a “damned fool.”
Finally, after what seemed like ages traveling through a purgatory of thorns, we found him, and just in the nick of time as we were approaching dusk. The strategy had worked. He was laying down and not moving when we approached. I regret making this magnificent animal suffer like I did based on my poor shot placement, so we wanted to quickly end his suffering and make sure he was fully incapacitated to deter any possible charges. I put another shot from the .416 near his spine in attempt to fully disable him and put him down. However, that shot seemed to put a surge of energy through him and he raised his head in an attempt to get up. At this action, I put another two insurance shots from the .416 in him and Jaco assisted with a shot from his .375. That was the end of him.
I had him. I had finally got “Vader,” which was the name I designated for this magnificent animal. As noted above, I give my animals names that reflect the hunt. However, Vader was different. To me, this buffalo represented the purpose of our trip, which was based on my father. Thus, I felt “Vader,” which is Dutch and Afrikaans for “father,” to be a good symbolic name for this buffalo (furthermore, it can be argued that “Vader” had a similar temperament to my actual father, but we’re not going down that patricidal rabbit hole). Furthermore, if you want to tie in popular cultural references, I am in my early-40’s and, therefore, Star Wars was a huge influence on me growing up. Thus, a predominantly black buffalo would be an adequate representation of “Darth Vader” in the animal world. Regardless of my proffered rationale, I had finally got “Vader,” who measured about 42” wide.
Finally, I feel it necessary to discourage the wearing of any shirt containing wool while in the bushveld. For this hunt, I was wearing one of Kuiu’s light merino wool shirts, since it was winter in South Africa. I might as well have been wearing double-sided tape. That shirt attracted thorns like fat guys to a picnic. As shown below, the shirt got cut up fairly significantly during my trek.
Turning back to my nephew and father, they spent the day out in the lodge hunting area with Eon. My father’s target animal for this hunt was a monster sable, but they were also looking for something interesting for my nephew’s first animal. Lo and behold, they crossed paths with a sable that my nephew ended up taking (as shown below). Thus, like his uncle, the first animal that my nephew ever hunted and harvested was a beautiful 43” sable! My father was very proud and on cloud nine at this point.
The return to camp was festive and highly upbeat. It was an excellent day of hunting and as we convened at the lodge, Erik informed us that we were the first group ever to get a buffalo and sable on their first full day. Thus, it was a time for celebration. I went back to my chalet and grabbed the special bottle of Redbreast Irish Whiskey (Tawny Port Cask) I had brought along in the event of my successful buffalo hunt. The environment at the lodge turned festive and, before we knew it, my Dad got Neil (Erik’s son-in-law) to open up the lodge’s new social room (complete with TV and surround sound) and start blasting classic rock from the 70’s and 80’s. I’m sure there were some antelope in the distance around the camp grooving to some AC/DC and Grand Funk Railroad. My father continued the musical show later in the night when he serenaded the camp in his outdoor shower at his chalet (his voice carried well into the night).
As time passed into the night, I decided it was time to take the “buffalo plunge.” If there is anything that I have contributed to the operations of Quagga Safaris, it’s the “buffalo plunge.” Two years ago, after successfully hunting my first buffalo, I jumped into the pool in order to officially baptize myself in the crocodile-free waters of Africa. Similarly, after my brother finished his buffalo hunt two years ago, he also ended up taking the plunge. As you may note, it was wintertime in Limpopo when we travel down there, so the pool doesn’t see a lot of use at that time. Since our departure two years ago, a tradition has started that buffalo hunters, who can tolerate the cold, take their plunge and celebrate their conquering of the buffalo. Knowing my time had come once again, and shedding the emotions from the crazy day, I ripped off my cut-up hunting shirt like the Incredible Hulk and took my plunge. The water felt great – not as cold as a cold spring in the Ozarks, but a little brisk on an African night where the air temperature was about 62°F (16.6°C). Feeling the need to savor my victory over Nyati, and having a natural resistance to the cold, I lit up a cigar and stayed in the pool for the next hour.
This is probably a good interlude to tell you about my magical whiskey glass at the lodge that night. It was a modern marvel and one of the greater mysteries in our universe today because it seemingly violated the Law of Conservation of Matter, which dictates that matter and energy cannot be created or destroyed. However, in defiance of the physical laws governing our universe, my whiskey glass never seemed to get empty. Rather, every time that I looked away, my seemingly almost-empty glass would somehow fill itself. And I, as a man who respects the time and effort that a distiller puts into making the Devil’s Elixir, felt obliged and ethically compelled to consume all the beautiful tapestry of flavors put before me.
Normally, according to Neil at Quagga, most buffalo hunters finish the hunt brimming with adrenaline, start the night super excited, and then quickly crash when the adrenaline subsides. Fortunately (or unfortunately), I was not affected by this affliction. Rather, my physics-defying whiskey glass combined with the brisk pool water kept me going until I ascended into the next state of being. This ascended state of being may be best described by the late, great Jimmy Buffet when he claimed, “I wasn't knee crawlin', slip slidin', Reggie Youngin' Commode huggin' drunk…I was God’s own drunk and a fearless man!” Now that I had officially ascended to become God’s Own Drunk and a fearless man, who had conquered the buffalo, I knew I was impervious to all and everything that the bush had thrown at me. What could possibly hurt me?
