Matt_WY
AH enthusiast
Tools of the trade: Nathan’s Leica binos and Merkel double in 470 NE.
There was a nice reedbuck in the back of the truck and we rolled towards camp to give it to the skinner and grab some lunch. Suddenly, “nyati” and a poited finger from a tracker in the rear seat indicated buffalo to the right. Glass went up and with Nathan’s nod five of us slid off the sides of the moving truck and into the bush. We circled wide through the forest, working to get the wind in our favor. Coming to the downwind side, the team’s pace slowed and soon we split — one tracker and the second PH holding back while three of of moved slowly forward in a crouch. We crept up behind a small tree and a patch of grass and Nathan reported from the side that the buffalo were at 35 yards. No time or room for sticks, this would be a freehand shot. There was only one hard-bossed bull in this small herd and he was bedded, facing us. Nathan readied his double and gave me a nod. As slow as I could I rose up and right, out of the grass. The bull saw and rose with me and I dropped the red chevron onto the point of his shoulder. But the gig was already up; the herd had started to move and a caw had stepped behind the bull. “No shot” I heard from Nathan, and the herd whirled, thundering away through the brush as I lowered my gun. We walked back to the road and continued on to camp.
There was a nice reedbuck in the back of the truck and we rolled towards camp to give it to the skinner and grab some lunch. Suddenly, “nyati” and a poited finger from a tracker in the rear seat indicated buffalo to the right. Glass went up and with Nathan’s nod five of us slid off the sides of the moving truck and into the bush. We circled wide through the forest, working to get the wind in our favor. Coming to the downwind side, the team’s pace slowed and soon we split — one tracker and the second PH holding back while three of of moved slowly forward in a crouch. We crept up behind a small tree and a patch of grass and Nathan reported from the side that the buffalo were at 35 yards. No time or room for sticks, this would be a freehand shot. There was only one hard-bossed bull in this small herd and he was bedded, facing us. Nathan readied his double and gave me a nod. As slow as I could I rose up and right, out of the grass. The bull saw and rose with me and I dropped the red chevron onto the point of his shoulder. But the gig was already up; the herd had started to move and a caw had stepped behind the bull. “No shot” I heard from Nathan, and the herd whirled, thundering away through the brush as I lowered my gun. We walked back to the road and continued on to camp.