Christina Nyczepir
AH enthusiast
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- South Africa, Argentina, Virginia and North Carolina (USA)
Hey Y'all! I've been asked by a few folks to include a report of my recent Cape buff and common sable hunt with Crusader Safaris. If you're interested in reading that report, you can find it by tagging the URL to follow. It was easier for me to do it this way since others requested I write up my story from other social media sites. Hope you enjoy. Thanks! 
http://momhuntstoo.tumblr.com/
Safari arranged by Safaris Unlimited. Outfitter: Crusader Safaris. Professional Hunter: Rad Robertson
We land Saturday, May 21st in Johannesburg to the smiles and hugs of Mr. X. And any concerns regarding the handling of our guns, and all the necessary paperwork to bring them into and use in South Africa, are once again dismissed by his management and expertise. With all the appropriate paperwork filled out, we are then greeted by a very sweet man and friend, Maurice, our driver to and from the airport to Afton House.
Once arriving at Afton, a gin and tonic, a chance to catch-up with Annelise, a grilled steak dinner, hot shower and soft bed were everything I needed after a long 18 hour flight in a tin can. On this first leg of the trip I’m traveling with my friends from Safaris Unlimited, Dennis Stanley and Diane Stairs. This is Diane’s first trip and hunt in Africa, and I’m so excited to be part of her first experience.
The next morning we are up early for a quick breakfast. How wonderful to wake up to the sound of the Cape doves. It only makes my return to South Africa all the more real. Once finished, the van is loaded with all our luggage, then its back to the airport where we are greeted once again by Mr. X. Mr. X ensures our guns and ammo are properly checked in. The worker for South African Airlines tries to pull a fast one and charge us for our heavier luggage as a third piece as opposed to the ammo containers. Its stunts like this that make you glad Mr. X is there to assist you. Then we are off on our brief flight to the Limpopo area of South Africa.
When we land, the airport is small and quaint. The temperature is quite warm. We are first met by Henry Baskerville of Safaris Unlimited. He arrived ahead of us with two other clients. Those two clients having had very successful Cape buffalo hunts, have now moved on to another hunting area owned by Andrew Pringle of Crusader Safaris in Umkomaas. Then Rad Robertson, my assigned PH, greets us as well as his younger brother, Guy. I learn that a wonderful lunch at a place called Anne’s Cotton Club has been arranged for us. We will be dining with a long time friend of Henry’s, Wendy Beretta.
I could not have asked for a better way to begin our safari hunt in this area. We dined outside where we could enjoy the cool breeze and spectacular views of the Drakensberg Mountains. The food was fabulous, as well as the South African wines, and Wendy is a very charming and fascinating woman.
After lunch, we say our goodbyes to Guy and Wendy, then its off to the camp where I will stay for the duration of the buff and sable hunt. How long that will be, will depend on the success of the hunts.
Once inside the area where the camp is located, it was like becoming a total child as I sat in the vehicle in utter amazement at seeing the animals up close. I would not be some simple tourist touring some animal park inside a vehicle, hoping to catch even a glimpse of the wild animals. No. As a hunter, I would walk among them. I could extend my hand to pet them if I wanted. I didn’t. But I could.
The camp is small consisting of a total of four thatched roof buildings, a tower, and a fenced-in campfire area. Electrical wire fencing surrounds the compound. One would look at the fencing and wonder how on earth it could ever prevent animals from coming in and out. But I was told that the animals can sense the electrical wiring and avoid it. The solar panel that provides light for the camp was blown, so we were given charged lanterns to use in our rooms. The generator provides electrical power for everything else
After drinks with everyone around the campfire, and under the full moon and stars, we then moved to the dining room where we were served eland steaks for our first dinner. Not a bad way to begin my first evening in camp.
Its now Monday morning. My alarm was always set for 5 a.m., but I was always well awake before it went off. I learned to love those moments because that’s when the lions and leopards would sound off with their territorial roars and the hyena with their grunts, growls and giggles. This morning symphony played just outside our compound. I was also dressed and out my door before the others each morning. I didn’t want to miss a single sunrise.
After a breakfast of scrambled eggs, left-over eland steaks, the sweetest grapefruit, and plenty of coffee, we were off to pick up a new addition to my hunting party. While Jacques Louw is a very informative and educated young man, accompanying us on my hunts was (in part) to only further his training. He was a wealth of information concerning any questions I had regarding the animals and area vegetation. Rad had worked with him before and their interaction was often one of a big brother picking on a little brother. All in fun, and having two sons of my own, their interaction was something I am quite familiar with.
After sighting in my CZ .375 H&H at a dry river bed, we were off to scout for buffalo. Henry, Dennis, Diane and my trackers Toolbag and Seeya, ride up high in the back of the bakkie this day. Our first stop is to a popular watering hole where a herd of Cape buffalo are known to frequent to look for any recent tracks. Once the tracks are determined, the stalking begins.
Their ability to drive and find and keep up with the buff tracks never ceased to amaze me. As we follow the tracks, Rad warns me we are about to come upon them at any moment. But before he can finish his sentence, there they are, in the road and blocking us. They immediately begin glassing the herd. Rad and Jacques get out of the vehicle to take an even closer look. The buff move off into very heavy bush, but not before they are able to detect at least three shooters. We leave the herd for now since there is still plenty of time. My hunt has only just begun. And Rad’s preference is for me to shoot a lone dagga or from a small group of dagga boys as opposed to isolating one from a herd. He knows of at least two lone daggas in the area.
After lunch, Rad decides to locate the herd again for a closer look. We begin where the buff entered the heavy brush to begin the stalk. Its not long before they find them again. Rad stops the vehicle, exits and grabs his rifle (either a .458 Lott or a .416 Rigby) from the back of his bakkie. Jacques joins him. Rad turns to me and tells me to join them as well. So, the three of us proceed to walk out into an open area to face this entire herd of Cape buffalo. In a lowered voice, Jacques warns me to remain calm and stay close to Rad since he has the rifle. I mutter some sound of protest of how big the herd is compared to the three of us, they’re all looking at us, and there’s nothing between us and them but about 45 yards of wide open expanse. Jacques reassures me that because we are not taking any form of threatening stance, they have no reason to charge. He and Rad glass the herd again and talk quietly amongst themselves. I, meanwhile, nonchalantly glance around for a place to run. Just in case. But, no such luck. Behind us is a pool of water containing a lone hippo with only his beady eyes sticking out above the water. Off to our far, far, far right is thick brush with a lone giraffe eating off the top of some trees. As he chews he watches us, probably thinking to himself, “This ought to be good.”
Four old boys are found in the herd, one a really spectacular bull. Rad opts to leave the herd again. We’ll come back to find them if the need be. I’m more than happy to head back to the safety of the bakkie. I didn’t know it yet, but this would be the first of many more adrenaline rushes to come.
As we head back to drop Jacques off, then on to our camp, Rad spots an elephant of interest. Again, he stops the vehicle, exits, and grabs his rifle. Jacques does the same, grabbing his rifle this time as well. Rad invites Dennis, Diane, and myself to join in the stalk. Its not long before the elephant catches our scent and moves off into another direction. But the momentary experience is something a safari hunter’s dreams are made of.
Its now Tuesday morning, May 24th. I learn at breakfast that Diane, Henry and Dennis are going to spend the day visiting Kruger Park. Its time for my buff hunt to get serious. We drop them off at a car they have rented which was left a distance from the camp. As they leave, we learn from anti-poaching rangers that the herd we saw the day before, moved on in the night to an area we could not hunt in. While it was disappointing news to hear since there was one lovely old bull I would have loved to have gone after, Rad reassures me that “everything happens for a reason”. I pause for a moment at his comment, because it’s one of several sayings I often repeat to myself in life. Time would show us how true the statement would be for my hunts.
After picking up Jacques, we begin the search for one of the lone daggas. We start by looking for tracks in the area where he was last sited. With Jacques sitting on the hood of Rad’s bakkie (a position he would take for most of our hunts), the search begins. As we continue the pursuit, Rad catches a glance of a huge bull to our right in the thick bush. He glasses him and is able to determine he is an old buff. But oddly, he’s accompanied by a single cow. Rad explains that while it is unusual for a cow to be found among old bulls, it does occur and the cow is referred to as a sort of “Tomboy”.
Rad pulls the bakkie further up the road and stops. We all unload. My rifle is loaded, with one in the chamber. (Note: the rifle is loaded with 350gr Barnes X and 350gr solids for the buff hunt.) Its determined that Rad, Jacques, Tools and myself will pursue the buff. Seeya remains back with the vehicle and Rad’s six month old Jack Russell, Gus. We begin the stalk on foot. As we close in on the buff, who is very aware of our presence, he moves off with the cow into thicker brush. Its not long before we see why these two are together. They move not only into thicker brush, but also into the safety of their herd. Rad calls the stalk off, and we head back to the vehicle.
We spend the rest of the morning and afternoon checking tracks and water holes looking for signs of the two lone daggas. Our hunt is cut off early as it has been arranged for us to eat out that night with the others. While the day may have proven unfruitful in terms of the hunt, we do enjoy another lovely meal at a place called “The Hat and Creek”. Fine food, great South African wine, and wonderful company. Oh, and raw oysters.
Wednesday, May 25th. While their intentions were to visit Kruger Park the day before, Diane, Dennis and Henry got lost. After receiving not just a “little” ribbing from Rad, they decide to make another attempt this morning. Once they head out on their day’s adventures, we pick up where we left off from the afternoon before, on the tracks of a lone old buff.
This time we meet Jacques at the site the buff was last spotted and where his tracks were found. My rifle and sticks are unloaded from the vehicle, and we head uphill after him. Jacques leads, followed by Rad, me and then Tools. The temperature quickly rises as we spend the morning trailing this bull. Through thick brush, open fields, the terrain changes. I try to ride Rad’s heels, following in his exact footsteps. As we close in, our stride slows and our steps are more intentional. Droppings show us this buff is just ahead of us. The bush opens up to an open field with no visual of the buff. We move more quickly and I soon learn why. The buff was leading us to an area we could not hunt in. And, sadly, he crossed the road over before we could reach him. A little deflated, we wait for Tools to head back and get the bakkie. I decide to give Rad a ribbing and call him “Thunderfoot”. I then refer to myself as an “impala”. That is one plus to my size. Its easier to move through the bush than it is for the bigger guys. I would not hear the end of this conversation.
When the bakkie arrives, we ride further up the road expecting to see the buff we were stalking on the side we could not hunt. Instead, they see signs of large Cape buff herds moving into the area we are hunting. This brings a new fire.
After a lunch break, we spend the rest of the afternoon again checking out watering holes and tracks along the road ways. Evidence is found of a small herd of dagga boys. Signs also show that the buff we had been pursuing that morning, had moved back into the area. Encouraged, we call it a day.
As we head back to drop Jacques off, a rather large bull elephant that we had seen off in the distance earlier that morning, was now feeding near the roadside. Rad stops the vehicle and begins to examine him more closely. He has a client hunting elephant in July and this bull becomes a possibility. Suddenly, the bull begins to take an interest in us and walks directly toward me. My window is rolled down. While the experience was exhilarating, I was not just a little concerned. I had just seen videos of elephants flipping vehicles. The elephant stops not five yards in front of me. His trunk rises as he checks us out, then he moves off to the right of the bakkie. He grazes, then again moves in closer to the vehicle. Poor Seeya, while remaining quiet, was flipping out in the back. Tools would not let him forget it. This was a new experience for him as well. Finally, the bull moves off and we move on. We breathe and laugh. It was a God moment for me. The sunset this evening proves equally magical.
Thursday morning I learn that Dennis, Diane and Henry will be leaving me to check out an area for bird hunting. Henry generally makes a point to check out potentially new areas for clients to hunt in the future. Since I’m spending every moment hunting buffalo, I see very little of them anyway. But they will be missed around the campfire.
I also learn that Jacques had called Rad late last night after we had all gone to sleep. Apparently his truck had a flat tire and he needed Rad’s help to change it. Rad left the compound leaving the power off to the electric fence. Upon hearing Rad’s bakkie as he was returning, Oscar (the gentleman that maintained the camp) went out to open the gate. There by the entrance was a lion. I always said that I would hate to be the person that had to turn the generator on in the early hours of the morning. There was plenty of evidence of critters finding their way into the camp during the night hours.
Because the others were gone, we were able to begin hunting earlier in the mornings. And we began this morning returning to the same place we had started hunting yesterday, pursuing the same lone buff. I had gotten into a fun habit of photographing animals tracks whenever the moment allowed. This morning, there were plenty of fresh lion tracks. It was never lost on me that I was the smallest in the hunting party and probably would be the first picked off.
The temperature quickly rose this day, but clouds would come in as the day progressed. The lone buff started moving off, at first, in a steady stride. Then he would meander as he fed in a particular area. We moved in and out of the heavier bush, walking at times it seemed in circles as we followed his every movement. This seemed to go on for hours. If we lost his track, we would retrace our steps until the tracks were picked up again. Finally, the buff tracks and droppings showed him on the move. Off we went.
I cannot tell you just how far we walked tracking this lone bull. But eventually we lost his trail as he pulled a “Houdini”. It was decided we would retrace our steps all the way back to the last fresh droppings. Then the much needed rain began. Rad turned to me and said, “Game over.” The rain would wipe every track away. We began the long trek back to the bakkie. Though the rain was by no means heavy, we were soaked by time we arrived back to the vehicle. But, boy, it sure felt nice.
Our hope was that after a late lunch break, the rain would stop and we would go back out again. But luck was on Limpopo’s side, because they sure needed the rain no matter how little it amounted to. I was now becoming discouraged. We were four days into our buff hunt and not one opportunity presented itself for even a chance to lay cross hairs on a buff. It was decided we would take a break from buff hunting and turn our attentions to sable instead for a day.
A Scripture verse came to mind during this time, and I would repeat it to myself on this hunt: “…for every animal of the forest is mine, and the cattle on a thousand hills. I know every bird in the mountains, and the creatures of the field are mine. If I were hungry I would not tell you, for the world is mine, and all that is in it.” (Psalm 50:10-12) I would not take lightly pulling a trigger on anything that belongs to my God.
On our way back to camp, we pass a herd of elephant that remained nearby. One cow was on the “cheeky” side and would even chase Rad and Andrew whenever they left the compound.
We’re up early on Friday. After a quick breakfast, we head to a new hunting area for the common sable. Once we arrive, we sight-in my Remington .30-06 and then we are good to go. Jacques knows this area well and knows of an old lone sable bull, as well as a group of bulls, that would be great to pursue. Rad chooses to go after the lone sable. My Outfitter knew up-front that my concern for any animal I hunted was less on the size of the horns, than it was his age. Its here that Rad turns to Jacques and says, “Tina likes old men.” To which I respond, “Yes. To shoot them and put them out of their misery.”
We head first to a relatively dry pool where this lone sable was last seen. It takes nearly an hour to come close to his whereabouts. But this sable bull is a clever fellow and always several steps ahead of us. He remains in the heavier bush and never seems to stop, not even to graze. As we finally catch a visual of him, he bolts and its clear he has no intent of slowing down. So we break to allow him to calm down.
After lunch, we head back to where we left off following the sable. We discover that not 30 meters from where we stopped pursuing him, he too had decided to take a break himself. It was almost as if he knew our every move. We continue the pursuit into the late afternoon, the sable not slowing down or breaking once. Finally as we draw close to him, every sign showing he is just ahead of us, two impala catch our scent and run. Our sable, of course, takes off with them.
Its now late in the day and its clear this old sable is just too uneasy. But then he was old for a reason. As we wait for the bakkie to find us, the decision is made to have a look for the four sable bulls that seemed to have formed a bachelor group.
We find three of them grazing and sparring in a field near an old dam. We drop low and move around to the right of them. Its just Rad, myself and Jacques this time. We move in closer, stop then freeze, stop and freeze as Rad continues to glass the bulls to our right and through the brush to determine which one is the older. While waiting for Rad’s decision and our next move, to our left the fourth sable comes walking in moving straight toward us. We freeze. Jacques whispers in my ear, “Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t move.” This gorgeous old sable bull is looking right at us. He pauses. He cannot be more than 65 yards to the left of us. Surely he will see us and run like hell at any moment. But the sun is directly behind us and is blinding him. The sable then moves off to his left to join his friends in the field. With as little motion as possible, Rad quickly lowers the sticks into position and my rifle onto the sticks. Boom. Clean broadside shot through his right shoulder. The sable rears up, runs in the direction he came from, and drops. Its over. I can breathe.
The sun is dropping fast, so a clearing is quickly made, and photos finally taken. Once finished, Jacques’ truck is called in and a number of men begin to load the sable. While they are loading the bull, I return to Rad’s vehicle down the hill from Jacques’ to start loading my gear for the ride back to our camp. Its dark now, but as I turn to my left, I can make out four bulbous creatures walking straight toward me. Their pace not slowing down. I know there are plenty of hippo in the area, so I call out to Rad to identify the animals moving in my direction. He walks to the driver side of the bakkie and directs his flashlight onto the animals. They are four white rhino and they halt not 20 yards from me at the glare of the light. And then they just stand there.
Everything happens for a reason. Had I successfully harvested the first sable bull from that morning, I would have missed out on taking an even older magnificent bull and this amazing opportunity to see these precious white rhino up so close. The rhino remained there until all were loaded and ready to head back to camp. Another God moment, and I was so grateful.
Its now Saturday, May 28th. With one successful hunt now under our belt, our energy was renewed to continue our buff hunt. Even better, a new group of daggas has been detected having moved into the area. As we track them, we see that they are looking for water but hitting the pools that have now dried up. So, they must be somewhat familiar with the area, but have not been here in a while. Eventually, they will find water and based on the tracks, Rad and Jacques know where they are headed.
As we head to the most obvious pool of water, Tools taps the top of the bakkie. Rad stops. A bull has been spotted lying under a tree. Rad glasses. He whispers for me to quickly get out on his side of the vehicle. We move swiftly and quietly to unload the equipment, a bullet is chambered. Then Rad, Jacques, Tools and I cut into the heavier brush behind us. We move around and forward trying hard to remain hidden. Rad then moves into a more open area and sets up his wood sticks and places my rifle on top. He motions for me to get ready to take a shot.
Rad continues to glass as I get into my scope. I now see the bull and he is standing, facing us, but he remains partially hidden behind the tree. His boss and horns are covered by the foliage of the tree so we cannot get a visual. Clever fellow. The buff turns facing the other direction, but he is still hidden. Finally, he moves out enough to our right that his boss and horns are in full view. This is the one we want.
The buff then moves off to another tree a little back and to his left. I won’t take a moving shot. He’s hidden again. Then he steps out giving us a frontal presentation. After my last experience hunting a buff with a bad outfitter, I’m not comfortable with this shot, not trusting my own abilities. Rad reassures me there is no pressure to take a shot I’m not comfortable with. Then the buff does an incredibly odd thing. He lies down under this second tree. Rad is floored!
Rad tells me to grab my rifle, he takes the sticks and we move over to our right. I get back into my scope again. As we move, the buff stands up. Now it’s a stare down. I wipe the sweat from my hands and breathe. The wait is for my benefit. The buff finally moves rapidly to his left, but back into heavier bush. I expect him to hit the bush and to disappear, but he stops, turns and watches us.
Another stare down begins. Then the buff moves forward out from cover and gives us a quartering frontal presentation. He stares. Rad again reassures me that if I’m not comfortable with the shot. I ask him, “Are you ready?” I know once I pull the trigger the buff is going down one way or another. I know I can do this. Rad says, “Yes”.
My shot rings out puncturing his left shoulder, lung and heart. He buckles then turns to run up into higher ground with heavier bush. I reload and off-hand shoot again, this time it hits the back of his lungs on his right side. I reload again, this time to hit hair as he moves into the bush. The shot hits his right hind quarter. The buff only makes it a few yards and stops and stands there. I reload my rifle, safety on, and we run to get in closer to the bull. We now stand just below him on his left side. Again on sticks, I take another shot right behind his left shoulder. He drops. We move around to his other side. Then the death bellow begins. Its a sobering moment and I cannot help but lower my head.
As we begin to get a closer look at the animal, we notice a gore wound behind his boss. Its seriously infected, the skin becoming detached from the boss. At first its believed to have been the result of snare. But closer examination shows that this old boy is a warrior. Two more wounds are found under his right eye and heavy scratch marks down his neck evidence the tussles he’s been in. His boss as well.
Everything happens for a reason. I am told that had nature been allowed to take its course, the infection would have eventually set in to his brain and/or spine. It would have been a slow horrible death. This was my bull.
Once the photos are taken, field dressing of the animal begins. Two armed anti-poaching rangers had appeared out of nowhere and assist in the process. I learn that all the meat from the buff and sable will be sold and the monies are to help pay for the anti-poaching efforts in the area. Hunter dollars once again at work to ensure animals in the wild survive.
Now that the Cape buffalo and common sable hunts are complete, its time for me to move on to new hunting grounds in Umkomaas. That long journey begins tomorrow, and it is where I will join the others. But at least I have the sounds of the lions, leopards and hyena for one more night. ~ Christina Nyczepir
http://momhuntstoo.tumblr.com/Safari arranged by Safaris Unlimited. Outfitter: Crusader Safaris. Professional Hunter: Rad Robertson
We land Saturday, May 21st in Johannesburg to the smiles and hugs of Mr. X. And any concerns regarding the handling of our guns, and all the necessary paperwork to bring them into and use in South Africa, are once again dismissed by his management and expertise. With all the appropriate paperwork filled out, we are then greeted by a very sweet man and friend, Maurice, our driver to and from the airport to Afton House.
Once arriving at Afton, a gin and tonic, a chance to catch-up with Annelise, a grilled steak dinner, hot shower and soft bed were everything I needed after a long 18 hour flight in a tin can. On this first leg of the trip I’m traveling with my friends from Safaris Unlimited, Dennis Stanley and Diane Stairs. This is Diane’s first trip and hunt in Africa, and I’m so excited to be part of her first experience.
The next morning we are up early for a quick breakfast. How wonderful to wake up to the sound of the Cape doves. It only makes my return to South Africa all the more real. Once finished, the van is loaded with all our luggage, then its back to the airport where we are greeted once again by Mr. X. Mr. X ensures our guns and ammo are properly checked in. The worker for South African Airlines tries to pull a fast one and charge us for our heavier luggage as a third piece as opposed to the ammo containers. Its stunts like this that make you glad Mr. X is there to assist you. Then we are off on our brief flight to the Limpopo area of South Africa.
When we land, the airport is small and quaint. The temperature is quite warm. We are first met by Henry Baskerville of Safaris Unlimited. He arrived ahead of us with two other clients. Those two clients having had very successful Cape buffalo hunts, have now moved on to another hunting area owned by Andrew Pringle of Crusader Safaris in Umkomaas. Then Rad Robertson, my assigned PH, greets us as well as his younger brother, Guy. I learn that a wonderful lunch at a place called Anne’s Cotton Club has been arranged for us. We will be dining with a long time friend of Henry’s, Wendy Beretta.
I could not have asked for a better way to begin our safari hunt in this area. We dined outside where we could enjoy the cool breeze and spectacular views of the Drakensberg Mountains. The food was fabulous, as well as the South African wines, and Wendy is a very charming and fascinating woman.
After lunch, we say our goodbyes to Guy and Wendy, then its off to the camp where I will stay for the duration of the buff and sable hunt. How long that will be, will depend on the success of the hunts.
Once inside the area where the camp is located, it was like becoming a total child as I sat in the vehicle in utter amazement at seeing the animals up close. I would not be some simple tourist touring some animal park inside a vehicle, hoping to catch even a glimpse of the wild animals. No. As a hunter, I would walk among them. I could extend my hand to pet them if I wanted. I didn’t. But I could.
The camp is small consisting of a total of four thatched roof buildings, a tower, and a fenced-in campfire area. Electrical wire fencing surrounds the compound. One would look at the fencing and wonder how on earth it could ever prevent animals from coming in and out. But I was told that the animals can sense the electrical wiring and avoid it. The solar panel that provides light for the camp was blown, so we were given charged lanterns to use in our rooms. The generator provides electrical power for everything else
After drinks with everyone around the campfire, and under the full moon and stars, we then moved to the dining room where we were served eland steaks for our first dinner. Not a bad way to begin my first evening in camp.
Its now Monday morning. My alarm was always set for 5 a.m., but I was always well awake before it went off. I learned to love those moments because that’s when the lions and leopards would sound off with their territorial roars and the hyena with their grunts, growls and giggles. This morning symphony played just outside our compound. I was also dressed and out my door before the others each morning. I didn’t want to miss a single sunrise.
After a breakfast of scrambled eggs, left-over eland steaks, the sweetest grapefruit, and plenty of coffee, we were off to pick up a new addition to my hunting party. While Jacques Louw is a very informative and educated young man, accompanying us on my hunts was (in part) to only further his training. He was a wealth of information concerning any questions I had regarding the animals and area vegetation. Rad had worked with him before and their interaction was often one of a big brother picking on a little brother. All in fun, and having two sons of my own, their interaction was something I am quite familiar with.
After sighting in my CZ .375 H&H at a dry river bed, we were off to scout for buffalo. Henry, Dennis, Diane and my trackers Toolbag and Seeya, ride up high in the back of the bakkie this day. Our first stop is to a popular watering hole where a herd of Cape buffalo are known to frequent to look for any recent tracks. Once the tracks are determined, the stalking begins.
Their ability to drive and find and keep up with the buff tracks never ceased to amaze me. As we follow the tracks, Rad warns me we are about to come upon them at any moment. But before he can finish his sentence, there they are, in the road and blocking us. They immediately begin glassing the herd. Rad and Jacques get out of the vehicle to take an even closer look. The buff move off into very heavy bush, but not before they are able to detect at least three shooters. We leave the herd for now since there is still plenty of time. My hunt has only just begun. And Rad’s preference is for me to shoot a lone dagga or from a small group of dagga boys as opposed to isolating one from a herd. He knows of at least two lone daggas in the area.
After lunch, Rad decides to locate the herd again for a closer look. We begin where the buff entered the heavy brush to begin the stalk. Its not long before they find them again. Rad stops the vehicle, exits and grabs his rifle (either a .458 Lott or a .416 Rigby) from the back of his bakkie. Jacques joins him. Rad turns to me and tells me to join them as well. So, the three of us proceed to walk out into an open area to face this entire herd of Cape buffalo. In a lowered voice, Jacques warns me to remain calm and stay close to Rad since he has the rifle. I mutter some sound of protest of how big the herd is compared to the three of us, they’re all looking at us, and there’s nothing between us and them but about 45 yards of wide open expanse. Jacques reassures me that because we are not taking any form of threatening stance, they have no reason to charge. He and Rad glass the herd again and talk quietly amongst themselves. I, meanwhile, nonchalantly glance around for a place to run. Just in case. But, no such luck. Behind us is a pool of water containing a lone hippo with only his beady eyes sticking out above the water. Off to our far, far, far right is thick brush with a lone giraffe eating off the top of some trees. As he chews he watches us, probably thinking to himself, “This ought to be good.”
Four old boys are found in the herd, one a really spectacular bull. Rad opts to leave the herd again. We’ll come back to find them if the need be. I’m more than happy to head back to the safety of the bakkie. I didn’t know it yet, but this would be the first of many more adrenaline rushes to come.
As we head back to drop Jacques off, then on to our camp, Rad spots an elephant of interest. Again, he stops the vehicle, exits, and grabs his rifle. Jacques does the same, grabbing his rifle this time as well. Rad invites Dennis, Diane, and myself to join in the stalk. Its not long before the elephant catches our scent and moves off into another direction. But the momentary experience is something a safari hunter’s dreams are made of.
Its now Tuesday morning, May 24th. I learn at breakfast that Diane, Henry and Dennis are going to spend the day visiting Kruger Park. Its time for my buff hunt to get serious. We drop them off at a car they have rented which was left a distance from the camp. As they leave, we learn from anti-poaching rangers that the herd we saw the day before, moved on in the night to an area we could not hunt in. While it was disappointing news to hear since there was one lovely old bull I would have loved to have gone after, Rad reassures me that “everything happens for a reason”. I pause for a moment at his comment, because it’s one of several sayings I often repeat to myself in life. Time would show us how true the statement would be for my hunts.
After picking up Jacques, we begin the search for one of the lone daggas. We start by looking for tracks in the area where he was last sited. With Jacques sitting on the hood of Rad’s bakkie (a position he would take for most of our hunts), the search begins. As we continue the pursuit, Rad catches a glance of a huge bull to our right in the thick bush. He glasses him and is able to determine he is an old buff. But oddly, he’s accompanied by a single cow. Rad explains that while it is unusual for a cow to be found among old bulls, it does occur and the cow is referred to as a sort of “Tomboy”.
Rad pulls the bakkie further up the road and stops. We all unload. My rifle is loaded, with one in the chamber. (Note: the rifle is loaded with 350gr Barnes X and 350gr solids for the buff hunt.) Its determined that Rad, Jacques, Tools and myself will pursue the buff. Seeya remains back with the vehicle and Rad’s six month old Jack Russell, Gus. We begin the stalk on foot. As we close in on the buff, who is very aware of our presence, he moves off with the cow into thicker brush. Its not long before we see why these two are together. They move not only into thicker brush, but also into the safety of their herd. Rad calls the stalk off, and we head back to the vehicle.
We spend the rest of the morning and afternoon checking tracks and water holes looking for signs of the two lone daggas. Our hunt is cut off early as it has been arranged for us to eat out that night with the others. While the day may have proven unfruitful in terms of the hunt, we do enjoy another lovely meal at a place called “The Hat and Creek”. Fine food, great South African wine, and wonderful company. Oh, and raw oysters.
Wednesday, May 25th. While their intentions were to visit Kruger Park the day before, Diane, Dennis and Henry got lost. After receiving not just a “little” ribbing from Rad, they decide to make another attempt this morning. Once they head out on their day’s adventures, we pick up where we left off from the afternoon before, on the tracks of a lone old buff.
This time we meet Jacques at the site the buff was last spotted and where his tracks were found. My rifle and sticks are unloaded from the vehicle, and we head uphill after him. Jacques leads, followed by Rad, me and then Tools. The temperature quickly rises as we spend the morning trailing this bull. Through thick brush, open fields, the terrain changes. I try to ride Rad’s heels, following in his exact footsteps. As we close in, our stride slows and our steps are more intentional. Droppings show us this buff is just ahead of us. The bush opens up to an open field with no visual of the buff. We move more quickly and I soon learn why. The buff was leading us to an area we could not hunt in. And, sadly, he crossed the road over before we could reach him. A little deflated, we wait for Tools to head back and get the bakkie. I decide to give Rad a ribbing and call him “Thunderfoot”. I then refer to myself as an “impala”. That is one plus to my size. Its easier to move through the bush than it is for the bigger guys. I would not hear the end of this conversation.
When the bakkie arrives, we ride further up the road expecting to see the buff we were stalking on the side we could not hunt. Instead, they see signs of large Cape buff herds moving into the area we are hunting. This brings a new fire.
After a lunch break, we spend the rest of the afternoon again checking out watering holes and tracks along the road ways. Evidence is found of a small herd of dagga boys. Signs also show that the buff we had been pursuing that morning, had moved back into the area. Encouraged, we call it a day.
As we head back to drop Jacques off, a rather large bull elephant that we had seen off in the distance earlier that morning, was now feeding near the roadside. Rad stops the vehicle and begins to examine him more closely. He has a client hunting elephant in July and this bull becomes a possibility. Suddenly, the bull begins to take an interest in us and walks directly toward me. My window is rolled down. While the experience was exhilarating, I was not just a little concerned. I had just seen videos of elephants flipping vehicles. The elephant stops not five yards in front of me. His trunk rises as he checks us out, then he moves off to the right of the bakkie. He grazes, then again moves in closer to the vehicle. Poor Seeya, while remaining quiet, was flipping out in the back. Tools would not let him forget it. This was a new experience for him as well. Finally, the bull moves off and we move on. We breathe and laugh. It was a God moment for me. The sunset this evening proves equally magical.
Thursday morning I learn that Dennis, Diane and Henry will be leaving me to check out an area for bird hunting. Henry generally makes a point to check out potentially new areas for clients to hunt in the future. Since I’m spending every moment hunting buffalo, I see very little of them anyway. But they will be missed around the campfire.
I also learn that Jacques had called Rad late last night after we had all gone to sleep. Apparently his truck had a flat tire and he needed Rad’s help to change it. Rad left the compound leaving the power off to the electric fence. Upon hearing Rad’s bakkie as he was returning, Oscar (the gentleman that maintained the camp) went out to open the gate. There by the entrance was a lion. I always said that I would hate to be the person that had to turn the generator on in the early hours of the morning. There was plenty of evidence of critters finding their way into the camp during the night hours.
Because the others were gone, we were able to begin hunting earlier in the mornings. And we began this morning returning to the same place we had started hunting yesterday, pursuing the same lone buff. I had gotten into a fun habit of photographing animals tracks whenever the moment allowed. This morning, there were plenty of fresh lion tracks. It was never lost on me that I was the smallest in the hunting party and probably would be the first picked off.
The temperature quickly rose this day, but clouds would come in as the day progressed. The lone buff started moving off, at first, in a steady stride. Then he would meander as he fed in a particular area. We moved in and out of the heavier bush, walking at times it seemed in circles as we followed his every movement. This seemed to go on for hours. If we lost his track, we would retrace our steps until the tracks were picked up again. Finally, the buff tracks and droppings showed him on the move. Off we went.
I cannot tell you just how far we walked tracking this lone bull. But eventually we lost his trail as he pulled a “Houdini”. It was decided we would retrace our steps all the way back to the last fresh droppings. Then the much needed rain began. Rad turned to me and said, “Game over.” The rain would wipe every track away. We began the long trek back to the bakkie. Though the rain was by no means heavy, we were soaked by time we arrived back to the vehicle. But, boy, it sure felt nice.
Our hope was that after a late lunch break, the rain would stop and we would go back out again. But luck was on Limpopo’s side, because they sure needed the rain no matter how little it amounted to. I was now becoming discouraged. We were four days into our buff hunt and not one opportunity presented itself for even a chance to lay cross hairs on a buff. It was decided we would take a break from buff hunting and turn our attentions to sable instead for a day.
A Scripture verse came to mind during this time, and I would repeat it to myself on this hunt: “…for every animal of the forest is mine, and the cattle on a thousand hills. I know every bird in the mountains, and the creatures of the field are mine. If I were hungry I would not tell you, for the world is mine, and all that is in it.” (Psalm 50:10-12) I would not take lightly pulling a trigger on anything that belongs to my God.
On our way back to camp, we pass a herd of elephant that remained nearby. One cow was on the “cheeky” side and would even chase Rad and Andrew whenever they left the compound.
We’re up early on Friday. After a quick breakfast, we head to a new hunting area for the common sable. Once we arrive, we sight-in my Remington .30-06 and then we are good to go. Jacques knows this area well and knows of an old lone sable bull, as well as a group of bulls, that would be great to pursue. Rad chooses to go after the lone sable. My Outfitter knew up-front that my concern for any animal I hunted was less on the size of the horns, than it was his age. Its here that Rad turns to Jacques and says, “Tina likes old men.” To which I respond, “Yes. To shoot them and put them out of their misery.”
We head first to a relatively dry pool where this lone sable was last seen. It takes nearly an hour to come close to his whereabouts. But this sable bull is a clever fellow and always several steps ahead of us. He remains in the heavier bush and never seems to stop, not even to graze. As we finally catch a visual of him, he bolts and its clear he has no intent of slowing down. So we break to allow him to calm down.
After lunch, we head back to where we left off following the sable. We discover that not 30 meters from where we stopped pursuing him, he too had decided to take a break himself. It was almost as if he knew our every move. We continue the pursuit into the late afternoon, the sable not slowing down or breaking once. Finally as we draw close to him, every sign showing he is just ahead of us, two impala catch our scent and run. Our sable, of course, takes off with them.
Its now late in the day and its clear this old sable is just too uneasy. But then he was old for a reason. As we wait for the bakkie to find us, the decision is made to have a look for the four sable bulls that seemed to have formed a bachelor group.
We find three of them grazing and sparring in a field near an old dam. We drop low and move around to the right of them. Its just Rad, myself and Jacques this time. We move in closer, stop then freeze, stop and freeze as Rad continues to glass the bulls to our right and through the brush to determine which one is the older. While waiting for Rad’s decision and our next move, to our left the fourth sable comes walking in moving straight toward us. We freeze. Jacques whispers in my ear, “Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t move.” This gorgeous old sable bull is looking right at us. He pauses. He cannot be more than 65 yards to the left of us. Surely he will see us and run like hell at any moment. But the sun is directly behind us and is blinding him. The sable then moves off to his left to join his friends in the field. With as little motion as possible, Rad quickly lowers the sticks into position and my rifle onto the sticks. Boom. Clean broadside shot through his right shoulder. The sable rears up, runs in the direction he came from, and drops. Its over. I can breathe.
The sun is dropping fast, so a clearing is quickly made, and photos finally taken. Once finished, Jacques’ truck is called in and a number of men begin to load the sable. While they are loading the bull, I return to Rad’s vehicle down the hill from Jacques’ to start loading my gear for the ride back to our camp. Its dark now, but as I turn to my left, I can make out four bulbous creatures walking straight toward me. Their pace not slowing down. I know there are plenty of hippo in the area, so I call out to Rad to identify the animals moving in my direction. He walks to the driver side of the bakkie and directs his flashlight onto the animals. They are four white rhino and they halt not 20 yards from me at the glare of the light. And then they just stand there.
Everything happens for a reason. Had I successfully harvested the first sable bull from that morning, I would have missed out on taking an even older magnificent bull and this amazing opportunity to see these precious white rhino up so close. The rhino remained there until all were loaded and ready to head back to camp. Another God moment, and I was so grateful.
Its now Saturday, May 28th. With one successful hunt now under our belt, our energy was renewed to continue our buff hunt. Even better, a new group of daggas has been detected having moved into the area. As we track them, we see that they are looking for water but hitting the pools that have now dried up. So, they must be somewhat familiar with the area, but have not been here in a while. Eventually, they will find water and based on the tracks, Rad and Jacques know where they are headed.
As we head to the most obvious pool of water, Tools taps the top of the bakkie. Rad stops. A bull has been spotted lying under a tree. Rad glasses. He whispers for me to quickly get out on his side of the vehicle. We move swiftly and quietly to unload the equipment, a bullet is chambered. Then Rad, Jacques, Tools and I cut into the heavier brush behind us. We move around and forward trying hard to remain hidden. Rad then moves into a more open area and sets up his wood sticks and places my rifle on top. He motions for me to get ready to take a shot.
Rad continues to glass as I get into my scope. I now see the bull and he is standing, facing us, but he remains partially hidden behind the tree. His boss and horns are covered by the foliage of the tree so we cannot get a visual. Clever fellow. The buff turns facing the other direction, but he is still hidden. Finally, he moves out enough to our right that his boss and horns are in full view. This is the one we want.
The buff then moves off to another tree a little back and to his left. I won’t take a moving shot. He’s hidden again. Then he steps out giving us a frontal presentation. After my last experience hunting a buff with a bad outfitter, I’m not comfortable with this shot, not trusting my own abilities. Rad reassures me there is no pressure to take a shot I’m not comfortable with. Then the buff does an incredibly odd thing. He lies down under this second tree. Rad is floored!
Rad tells me to grab my rifle, he takes the sticks and we move over to our right. I get back into my scope again. As we move, the buff stands up. Now it’s a stare down. I wipe the sweat from my hands and breathe. The wait is for my benefit. The buff finally moves rapidly to his left, but back into heavier bush. I expect him to hit the bush and to disappear, but he stops, turns and watches us.
Another stare down begins. Then the buff moves forward out from cover and gives us a quartering frontal presentation. He stares. Rad again reassures me that if I’m not comfortable with the shot. I ask him, “Are you ready?” I know once I pull the trigger the buff is going down one way or another. I know I can do this. Rad says, “Yes”.
My shot rings out puncturing his left shoulder, lung and heart. He buckles then turns to run up into higher ground with heavier bush. I reload and off-hand shoot again, this time it hits the back of his lungs on his right side. I reload again, this time to hit hair as he moves into the bush. The shot hits his right hind quarter. The buff only makes it a few yards and stops and stands there. I reload my rifle, safety on, and we run to get in closer to the bull. We now stand just below him on his left side. Again on sticks, I take another shot right behind his left shoulder. He drops. We move around to his other side. Then the death bellow begins. Its a sobering moment and I cannot help but lower my head.
As we begin to get a closer look at the animal, we notice a gore wound behind his boss. Its seriously infected, the skin becoming detached from the boss. At first its believed to have been the result of snare. But closer examination shows that this old boy is a warrior. Two more wounds are found under his right eye and heavy scratch marks down his neck evidence the tussles he’s been in. His boss as well.
Everything happens for a reason. I am told that had nature been allowed to take its course, the infection would have eventually set in to his brain and/or spine. It would have been a slow horrible death. This was my bull.
Once the photos are taken, field dressing of the animal begins. Two armed anti-poaching rangers had appeared out of nowhere and assist in the process. I learn that all the meat from the buff and sable will be sold and the monies are to help pay for the anti-poaching efforts in the area. Hunter dollars once again at work to ensure animals in the wild survive.
Now that the Cape buffalo and common sable hunts are complete, its time for me to move on to new hunting grounds in Umkomaas. That long journey begins tomorrow, and it is where I will join the others. But at least I have the sounds of the lions, leopards and hyena for one more night. ~ Christina Nyczepir
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