Kevin Peacocke
AH ambassador
- Joined
- Feb 10, 2018
- Messages
- 6,052
- Reaction score
- 21,426
- Location
- Harare Zimbabwe
- Media
- 108
- Articles
- 2
- Member of
- Cleveland Gun Club
- Hunted
- Zimbabwe, SouthAfrica
DAY 2
On the Hilux by 4:30, the objective of the day being a buff and whatever else came. Our card had three buff cows on it, a zebra, warthog and lots of impala, with some jiggle room. Even this early it was obvious the day would be a scorcher and I noted Edson packing extra water into his pack, good man. I opted for thick long pants because of the tangled thorn bush, but would regret that decision later. We drove about 10km and debussed near a water pan to check for tracks. Plenty, but none too fresh so we headed off up a bush track and soon cut spoor of a herd of maybe 20 buff that crossed in the night. Andrew set up a brisk pace and our snake of seven weaved behind, Anon on point for the first buff. The tracks took us straight back to the pan, but veered off into thicker bush before they got there, something must have put them off. On and on we went, the dung getting softer, the air getting hotter and me getting more puffed. By 10am the sun was beating mercilessly and we reckoned the temp was around 40C. The dung now was barely crusted and thankfully Andrew eased up the pace. Off to one side a moo, and there they were, about 100 metres off. The shooting group departed and we waited for the shot, but minutes later thundering hooves souded as the wind busted them. It was obvious Andrew blamed himself, but by now the breeze was swirling all over the place, nothing to do.
Back on the track and at pace once more, sweating profusely and legs aching, this was tough! Eventually I reached my limit and fearing heat stroke called a halt for a rest. As it happened we were only about 50 metres from the truck, I felt a little silly. Looking around at all the guys with their bloodied legs I was smug with my longs - for now.
Back to camp for lunch and a welcome siesta before getting back at it, Before breaking Dalton dragged a branch over the tracks so the trackers could easily see where the herd went. We picked them up heading back to the pan where they stopped to drink and carried on. Return to full pace and as the gap closed the heavens opened. There was nothing for it but to wait it out and hope some spoor remained. At let up, we continued sloshing and sliding, Kev Woods now on point. A halt was called, the herd was just across a sand river, so the hunt group butt-crawled forward and were about to get on aim when a cow spotted them - gone. After them again and in a surprisingly short time the hand went up, we all sank and the hunt group inched forward into position behind some mopanes. We waited for the shot, and waited, a full 40 minutes we waited wondering 'what are these guys doing?' Then the now familiar sound of the buff thundering off. Apparently what happened was this was a group of four dagga boys that our herd ran through and on beyond and these four set up a sort of stop group. The hunt team weren't to know this, believing the cows were part of them and just behind, and ended up in a long staring session with the dagga boys. We continued after the main herd, but with a 40 minute head start it was more wishful than serious. Now those heavily wet trousers were taking their toll, a few extra kg's and the chaffing were undearable and convinced me that shorts and a few scratches are the way to go in rainy weather at least.
No shots fired, but were satisfied, and very worn out. As we waited for the truck in the twilight a leopard coughed to salute the victory of the buff - for now.
On the Hilux by 4:30, the objective of the day being a buff and whatever else came. Our card had three buff cows on it, a zebra, warthog and lots of impala, with some jiggle room. Even this early it was obvious the day would be a scorcher and I noted Edson packing extra water into his pack, good man. I opted for thick long pants because of the tangled thorn bush, but would regret that decision later. We drove about 10km and debussed near a water pan to check for tracks. Plenty, but none too fresh so we headed off up a bush track and soon cut spoor of a herd of maybe 20 buff that crossed in the night. Andrew set up a brisk pace and our snake of seven weaved behind, Anon on point for the first buff. The tracks took us straight back to the pan, but veered off into thicker bush before they got there, something must have put them off. On and on we went, the dung getting softer, the air getting hotter and me getting more puffed. By 10am the sun was beating mercilessly and we reckoned the temp was around 40C. The dung now was barely crusted and thankfully Andrew eased up the pace. Off to one side a moo, and there they were, about 100 metres off. The shooting group departed and we waited for the shot, but minutes later thundering hooves souded as the wind busted them. It was obvious Andrew blamed himself, but by now the breeze was swirling all over the place, nothing to do.
Back on the track and at pace once more, sweating profusely and legs aching, this was tough! Eventually I reached my limit and fearing heat stroke called a halt for a rest. As it happened we were only about 50 metres from the truck, I felt a little silly. Looking around at all the guys with their bloodied legs I was smug with my longs - for now.
Back to camp for lunch and a welcome siesta before getting back at it, Before breaking Dalton dragged a branch over the tracks so the trackers could easily see where the herd went. We picked them up heading back to the pan where they stopped to drink and carried on. Return to full pace and as the gap closed the heavens opened. There was nothing for it but to wait it out and hope some spoor remained. At let up, we continued sloshing and sliding, Kev Woods now on point. A halt was called, the herd was just across a sand river, so the hunt group butt-crawled forward and were about to get on aim when a cow spotted them - gone. After them again and in a surprisingly short time the hand went up, we all sank and the hunt group inched forward into position behind some mopanes. We waited for the shot, and waited, a full 40 minutes we waited wondering 'what are these guys doing?' Then the now familiar sound of the buff thundering off. Apparently what happened was this was a group of four dagga boys that our herd ran through and on beyond and these four set up a sort of stop group. The hunt team weren't to know this, believing the cows were part of them and just behind, and ended up in a long staring session with the dagga boys. We continued after the main herd, but with a 40 minute head start it was more wishful than serious. Now those heavily wet trousers were taking their toll, a few extra kg's and the chaffing were undearable and convinced me that shorts and a few scratches are the way to go in rainy weather at least.