ZIMBABWE: Almost 12 Days In The Omay, The Nyakasanga Special With Dalton &York Safaris

[geoff rath]

Shumba didn't eat you for one simple reason; he could smell the curry on your breath.

 

[Backyardsniper]

Wonderful adventure and great trophies. Your writing is better than many authors, Dalton & York is on my to do list after talking to them at SCI and reading so many excellent reviews on AH.

Thanks man. I highly recommend them. They are definitely doing it right, and they are a lot of fun as well, some really good dudes!

 

[TKessel]

Great write up and an amazing recollection!!!
Thanks for sharing !

 

[Hunting Hitman]

BYS…I’m enjoying the hell out of your adventure! Phenomenal story telling that has me feeling like I’m along for the ride. Continued success my friend and wishing you all the luck in the world at your impending date with Mr. Hippo.

HH

 

[CoElkHunter]

What an awesome hunting adventure and hunting report! Thanks for sharing!

 

[PARA45]

We are still waiting and want more. Come on now, get on it will ya.

 

[Backyardsniper]

Day 9 Stanley has to Die!


Considering the length of the drive to the Eland country, we decided to make our departure from camp an hour earlier this particular morning. We would pack our breakfast sandwiches and eat on the way, which would allow us to be in the eland country right around daylight. Rolling through Paradise at daybreak the breeze in the back of the truck was cool but pleasant. I had high hopes for today. There had been Eland out and about everyday, and today felt good.

The road made a slight curve as we came up an incline and just like that, there he was, a beautiful Eland bull standing at a small pan having his morning drink. I pointed the eland out to Zvito who in turn signaled York to stop the truck. Now Murphy has a bad habit of showing up at times like this, a little lack of communication or the slightest miscalcation and things go completely off the rails, and that is precisely what happened at this particular juncture. York and I had discussed shooting an Eland with the 2 pipe, and our plan had been me carrying the double and Zvito would bring the 416 in case we needed it. This particular Eland had been on the right hand side of the road, driver side in that country, I sat in the rear on the left, passenger side, and Zvito in the rear on the driver side with Micheal between us. The truck came to a halt with a small tree obscuring where the eland had been, or so I thought "had been" standing. Every Eland we had crossed paths with had vacated the vicinity immediately upon our arrival. Not being able to see this one any longer, I had assumed he had done the same.

Zvito was untying the case that contained my 416 while I was casually putting on my ammo belt for the double to prepare for the tracking we were about to do. What I was unaware of was that Zvito was trying desperately to untie the 416 because the eland was still standing there looking at us. I couldn't see the Eland and York couldn't see me. So, he was unaware that I was unaware, that the damned Eland was just standing there 40 yards away staring at us! Once I had leisurely secured my ammo belt and looked around the door frame at York who was now staring back at me like I had a dick growing out of my forehead, he said, "Didn't you see the eland?" "Yeah I pointed him out, we gonna go track him?" "He was standing there the whole time, why didn't you just grab the 416 from Zvito?" "What?", I said "He was just standing there staring at us!" York replied.

You will have those kinds of days occasionally. We took up the tracks and actually got pretty close but as usual the Disco Donkeys got between us and our quarry and threw a monkey wrench in the situation. It was not to be with the Eland today.

We drove from there to the large pan where my nemesis Stanley lived. I'm not sure why I named this hippo Stanley, but it seemed like a fitting name. We checked the other pans for the bull we had been looking for but had no luck and by now it was once again heading toward lunchtime. One more visit with Stanley to see if we could get him to come out of the water a little and give us a shot. He refused, he would swim toward us a bit then circle back into the three cows that had broken off with him to come investigate our presence. Much to my amusement there was a younger bull in the pod that was taking full advantage of us holding old Stanley's attention. This youngster was having some serious sexy time with the ladies in the pod. Not being one bit shy, he was showing off his best moves. I will count myself lucky, I suppose, to have been fortunate enough to see a hippo do the Marvin Gaye in person.

Lunch was had across the road from the pan again, in hopes that Stanley would get curious and leave the water for a moment. Halfway through a chicken leg I looked up at York and said, "Stanley has to die; as a matter of fact, I'm going to finish my lunch and then I will get the 416. We will sneak over there and shoot him and be done with it!" My patients had run out with this smug hippo, and I had a plan!

In front of the pan was a lovely mound, and atop this mound was a couple of bushes that made a small arch with just enough room for two people to crawl into it. Textbook loophole, so textbook in fact, nobody would use it in real life. As it turns out, hippos suck at counter sniper operations. York and I slithered onto the mound. I had removed the gear from my pack and stuffed it with my fleece and another jacket to make a comfy shooting platform. I carefully positioned the pack to give me a good solid rest where I could cover most of the pan. There was a tree root behind me at almost the perfect spot to wedge my toes against. It was a very nice shooting spot indeed. The incline of the mound was the perfect angle and it rolled off at the top just right. I built my nest and York seemed to find some humor in this situation, especially the fact that I was going to shoot the 416 prone. "This is your thing isn't it?'' he said. "Well if we are gonna shoot a hippo in the water, then we might as well make it a proper hit job." I replied.

Now old Stanley, I suspect, did not get old by being dumb, and dumb he was not. He swam in the middle of the cows, and he kept his head down. This was becoming more and more challenging, and I was starting to really enjoy it! York and I had our shooter spotter dialogue down pat. York was keeping tabs on him, all while explaining at every turn of the hippo exactly where I needed to place the bullet if he showed us just enough of his brain housing group to slip a bullet in. This dance went on for a solid hour before York decided we were going to have to call an audible. Earlier when we visited the pan the bull had swam toward us a bit and raised up enough to get a good look at us. With him being unaware of our presence in the bush we figured sending Zvito for a stroll down the bank might just be enough to draw old Stanley's head up out of the water for a little looksee. Sure enough as Zvito started down the edge of the water, the old bull broke away from the cows clearing himself and raised his head just slightly out of the water to get a better look at just what was going on. "There right behind the eye, take him." The crash of the 416 sent the rest of the hippo splashing and snorting out of sight in a mad rush but not old Stanley. He sank slowly out of sight like a giant submarine slipping into the depths.

It was exactly 14:30 when I pulled the trigger. A few minutes of glassing the remaining hippo verified that the old bull had not resurfaced. York broke out the fishing rod and treble hook, and it wasn't long before the hook found him. Patiently we waited and at exactly 3:18 the hippo popped to the surface like a strange beachball that had been held underwater.

I had been watching Sunnyboy as he poured all the water from a five gallon jug, and I was very curious what his plan was, which soon became very apparent as he lashed the water jug to his chest with a piece of rope. Ah...the African life jacket! SunnyBoy soon realized the error in his calculations when his feet left the bottom and he found himself on his back in the water with the floaty thing keeping him under the water instead of on top of it. If anyone has room in their luggage and they take sunnyboy a life jacket, I assure you they will all get the joke.

The crew proceeded out to the hippo, with Zhito beating the water to dissuade the very large resident crocodile from dropping by unannounced. York, with the large grappling hook and rope, and sunny still hugging his makeshift life jacket. The grappling hook soon found its mark and old Stanley was pulled in close enough to get the Land Cruiser and wench into play. With a little fancy maneuvering of the vehicle by York, it wasn't long until we had the water horse out of the water. We positioned him for pictures with the mouth appropriately open for viewing of the very large tusks and the photos were completed in a timely manner so the recovery could begin. I cut the tail off and returned him to the water as is the tradition.



Soon thereafter the recovery crew arrived and disassembly began. There is a ton of meat on a hippo, almost literally. They cut and pulled, and pulled and sawed. It was a truly interesting operation to see. The sheer mass of a hippo out of water is hard to contemplate until you actually see one. The tusks themselves are engineering marvels, the way they sharpen themselves is amazing. They are strange creatures for sure, and their penis hooks backward at the end, as if they weren't strange enough to begin with!

 

[Backyardsniper]

 

[Backyardsniper]

 

[AZDAVE]

@Philip Glass was kind enough to introduce me to Dalton and York at DSC this year. They are on our short list to hunt with.

Love the curry and chili remembrance, and lions have a special way of looking at you. Different that the you owe me money look you get from Buffalo. But you will always remember the look from both.

Shooting big bores from the prone is not bad if you make sure the butt is in the pocket of the shoulder and your form is good. else the collarbone is at risk.I have shot a 458 B&M from the prone on bear.
And yes Stanley had to die.

Like your story telling ability, you bring the reader along for an adventure.

 

[Flewis]

Good shooting Justin. You eloquent writing may get your hillbilly card pulled, great job all around.

 

[TOBY458]

View attachment 544039View attachment 544040View attachment 544041

Glad to see my old 416 getting a good workout!

 

[Backyardsniper]

Good shooting Justin. You eloquent writing may get your hillbilly card pulled, great job all around.

one of my buddies message me after reading some of this and said "man I didn't know you could write stuff like that" I told him I kept that stuff a secret because it makes the other red necks nervous. Ha ha

 

[TOBY458]

one of my buddies message me after reading some of this and said "man I didn't know you could write stuff like that" I told him I kept that stuff a secret because it makes the other red necks nervous. Ha ha

At this rate you're going to have to trade in your Coors Banquet and MD 20/20 for Pappy Van Winkle and Cabernet.

 

[Elkeater]

@Backyardsniper keep this going! This is a dream safari for me. I’m headed to Africa for the first time for plains game next year. I haven’t even made it there yet and now I want to plan another safari like yours!

 

[Backyardsniper]

At this rate you're going to have to trade in your Coors Banquet and MD 20/20 for Pappy Van Winkle and Cabernet.

Ha ha. I might upgrade to PBR
Two more hunts to go in this little adventure.

 

[meigsbucks]

The way you tell the story makes me feel like I’m next to you. Your description of hunting Stanley had me both excited and laughing.

 

[Kevin Peacocke]

That is a great buff for sure, and a good tiger to boot. Our Carruthers Golden Tie award is for a buff bull, a tiger over 5kg, a stag in the Scottish highlands and a brace of grouse from over there too. The buff seems to be easier for our group to tick off than the tiger, we need the coordinates to your spot…

 

[Backyardsniper]

Day 10 Eland and Tea Leaves


We left the lodge early as we had done the day before for the long drive to Eland country. We packed breakfast to go and were on the road by 5:15. The 2 hour ride was cold and bumpy as usual, as we wound around the two track roads that lace the national park I was becoming acutely aware that my time in Nyakasanga was coming to a close. Everything that begins must end, and so it would be with my first safari. With only a few days left I had come a long way, I felt, in the 10 days we had hunted. I had learned enough of the language to somewhat communicate with Sunnboy and Zvito. Micheal seemed to always find my attempts at Shona comical. I had learned the names of most of the animals and enough words and short phrases to get my meaning across. They of course spoke some English, but using the local language was fun to me, and I felt it was appropriate to show my appreciation of their hard work by trying to use their language. I am, after all, one of those, "if you are gonna come to America you better learn to speak English" kind of guys. So, what's good for the goose is good for the gander. If I was gonna go to Zimbabwe then I suppose I had better learn some Shona, or at least make an attempt at it.

We arrived in the area around 7:15 and started working the roads looking for the Eland or tracks if we could find them. It was around 07:30 when we stopped at a small pan and checked for tracks. There were, sure enough, tracks from the night before, and a bit of eland dung that looked semi fresh. There was great discussion now between York and the crew as to whether or not the tracks were fresh enough to follow, the crew leaning towards the Eland possibly being long gone and York believing that they may not have traveled far, after much parlay we decided to follow them. The tracks belonged to three bulls, or so I was informed, it just looked like a miniature buffalo track to me. The tracks of the three bulls crossed the road and meandered into the Jess. It wasn't long now before we came upon some fresher dung and a spot where one of the bulls had urinated. York put his hand in the patch of damp grass and turned to me with a very "I told them so" grin. "They're not far," he whispered. On we went in what seemed like an eternal slow motion zigzag, with Zvito and York picking out the tracks and always scratching a line behind them, which allowed me to then investigate whatever tea leaves they had been reading that told them the whereabouts and intentions of our quarry. They pointed out the freshly broken branches where the eland would take the branches between their horns and break them to mame easier access to the tender leaves at the top. York explained how they always fed into the wind so the tannins from the damaged leaves didn't spread ahead of them to warn the other trees to release tannins which impede the animals digestion. It is a defense mechanism the plants have adapted over eons. Africa is a magical place if you are interested enough to take a minute and learn about her! I am definitely no tracker, but after 10 days of following these two through the bush I had begun to learn what they were looking at, and I could even decipher a bit of the spore myself. Freshly broken branches, a handful of fresh leaves on the ground under a bush, whether or not the urine had evaporated from the grass, the degree of crust on a pile of dung, depending on if it was in the sun or the shade. These were all clues left behind for you to decipher and put together the puzzle of where this animal had gone and what he was doing.

Soon the tracks joined with a herd of cows, and they traveled with them for a bit, then the bulls split off again. Suddenly York stopped and cupped his hands behind his ears. Zvito was convinced the tracks had gone another way. There was a very grave discussion in Shona between the two and we began casting about for tracks again, then York stopped. He was convinced he had heard branches breaking in the bush ahead and to our right. Zhito picked up the track again and it appeared the track did indeed point toward where York had heard the breaking of the branches. We pushed through a small patch of very thick Jess and shortly we broke into a small clearing. York and Zhito both dropped to a full crouch instantly, followed shortly by myself and the rest of the stack. Up went the binos followed almost immediately by the shooting sticks. "There, just behind the shoulder, he is slightly quartering with his head behind that bush." I looked ahead to where York was pointing, low and behold, about 75 yards away stood a massive gray beast. I did not take a great deal of time for observation at this point, as it seemed a fairly urgent matter that I forward this packet of carefully gift wrapped lead to Mr. Eland as soon as possible but, as the large gray mass began to take shape, the first thing I did notice was the minotaur-like shoulders. What a creation nature had made, some form of a cross between a Brahma bull and a Kudu perhaps? I could not see his horns, I was not particularly concerned with it at the moment either, York had the essence of a smiling kid on christmas morning, that was enough to tell me what I needed to know! The Eland is York's favorite animal to hunt and,it is what he himself hunts when he is afforded the opportunity to enjoy a hunt on his own, if he was this excited then I suspect I had better start shooting! The giant gray bull was unaware of our presence, and I did not plan to give him a chance to get aware of it. The 416 went to the sticks, the crosshair found its mark on the bowling ball sized shoulder, and in a flash there was a 400 grain A frame screaming away like a torpedo bound for an enemy submarine. In reviewing the video, as York points out the e

Eland to me and I mount the rifle on the sticks he did not even have time to transition from pointing at the eland to completely getting his fingers in his ears before the rifle discharged. We were not messing about with this opportunity! I knew when the trigger broke that Eland's fate was sealed. There was the comforting thump of the bullet impact and the familiar reaction of an animal that is dead but has just not yet become aware of his fate. There was smiling and hand shaking all around. I told York I was certain of the point of impact and that we should find him not far from where he was standing. Off we went and it wasn't long before my predictions were confirmed. The bullet must have cut the arteries across the top of the heart, believe me the blood trail was a grizzly one! Blood was sprayed onto trees and bushes at chest height as if you had painted the surroundings with a garden hose. Unbelievably, the Eland had still made a solid 100 yard dash. When we found him he was still alive in a giant pool of blood. He was waning but still trying to move. We walked up behind him and knelt down to put the bullet on a plane with his vitals and put one between the shoulder blades to send him on without further suffering. What an animal! In the brief glimpse I had before shooting I knew he was impressive but, up close the first Eland you see in person is truly awe inspiring. His giant horns spiraled upward, his Pompadour hairdo would have made Billy Joel himself proud! The unique smell they have can not be described, that must only be known by those who have shot one I suppose. What is even more to behold is seeing the crew stuff 2000 lbs of Eland into the bed of a Toyota Land Cruiser whole! They cut, they wenched, we pulled, we pushed, there was disassembling of the seats and rearranging of tool boxes and coolers. It was an operation but, at last he was secured.

The ride out of Paradise now, was beautiful for sure as I sat in the back, all of us crammed together with the Giant Livingstone Eland. I reflected on the entire trip. York, much to my delight, was forced to drive slowly with the oversized load in the back, which allowed me to wholly enjoy the scenery. This had all transpired by 09:00 and he was loaded and we were on our way shortly before 11:00 leaving me the rest of the day to relax and look back on the trip while we made plans for the remaining two days.

We made it back to the skinning shed in an hour or so and delivered the Eland. We had lunch beside "The Mighty Zambezi", and I had a short nap while they dealt with the skinning and dividing of meat. Apparently while I had a nap the tsetse did not miss out on the opportunity to take advantage of a piece of stationary real estate that size, when I woke up I was thoroughly welted! We then proceeded back to camp to concoct a plan for the next day. Another day of fishing? Why not?

 

[Backyardsniper]