MOZAMBIQUE: It Was The Safari of A Lifetime

[PARA45]

We are anxiously and patiently waiting for more.

 

[Scott CWO]

We are anxiously and patiently waiting for more.

It was the safari of a lifetime and it’s taking a lifetime to read the report! I think I’m done!

 

[ftrovato]

THIS IS IT!

I swing around to the right and start to come up onto my knees when my eyes lock in on a big black wall. The target bull is standing a stone's throw away and intensely looking right at me! Not only is he looking my way but he is also facing me so I will have to make the always tricky frontal shot.

I straighten my torso and I go off my left hand settling on both of my knees with my feet behind me. I bring the rifle to my face, not once taking my eyes off of the buffalo's. This was certainly not the shot I was hoping for! Frontal shots are difficult on any animal, never mind a Cape Buffalo that is built like an army tank. He is holding his head in the alert position with his nose about 50% up his body line. Having studied shot placement at nauseam I knew I needed to put a bullet directly under his chin to reach his vitals hidden behind it.

I put the red dot on his jaw right below his nose. I begin to take up the slack on the trigger. The trigger breaks cleanly and the rifle roars. A 570 Grain Swift A-Frame bullet hurtles through the air on a path to meet Mr Buffalo smack in the chest. As I begin to recover from the recoil I see that the Buffalo has been hard hit and is dancing in place... actually, he’s doing a forced acrobatic flip in which his head and neck are being pushed above and past his torso. His head contacts the ground before his front feet which are now above him. The effect of the massive energy dump the Swift bullet has now expelled into his body was truly unbelievable to witness.

Dempsey immediately tells me to shoot him again. The bull was now on the ground, all four feet under him facing directly away from us with his head facing slightly left of his hips. I sent a Woodleigh 570 grain hydro solid into his left hind quarter that we later learned came out just inside of his right front leg below his shoulder.

“Reload, Reload” Dempsey calmly but urgently tells me.

As I break the double, both empties eject and fly through the air as I quickly grab 2 more solids from my ammo belt, slide them into the barrels and close the action with a solid thud. Dempsey grabs me by the arm and we jog towards the buffalo to close the distance. His head is still up. Dempsey is a stride in front of me a little to my left doing what any good PH worth his salt would do, making sure his hunter is safe and not taking his eyes off of the buffalo after confirming the first buff had evacuated the area.

We closed the distance by half and by now the buffalo has gathered his senses and heard us coming. He turns his head and makes eye contact. We both anticipate what is next. I move into position beside Dempsey and at that very instant the buff somehow springs to his feet in a big cloud of dust, masking his shoulder and body from clear view while he remains focused on us. In the blink of an eye he is broadside as he turns to face us. Clearly he is planning to come at us. His head is facing us and the torso and legs are starting to follow!

I bring the rifle to my face, find some black in the cloud of dust that has now enveloped him and send a solid down range. This bullet once again drives him off his feet but his legs don’t stop this time. He is knocked over onto his side and he uses that energy to roll back in the opposite direction of the fall onto his feet and within seconds is running broadside at a left angle away from us like he was going to town to cash in a million-dollar lottery ticket. I put the second Woodleigh into his torso but he shows no sign of impact. The bull clearly has buckets of adrenaline racing through his system.

The bull disappears into the brush.

Nervous celebrations and discussions recapping what had just happened start but we know not to count your chickens before they have hatched. We wait, we wait and we wait some more. No death bellow! After 15 minutes Dempsey puts the trackers into action. As we follow the blood it looks strong and bright. Pieces of lung are mixed in and several large pieces of bone shards are collected along the way - some as big as an inch square. We later learned that the first bullet had hit him square in the lower jaw, went through his neck and a single lung before coming to rest in his paunch.

However even with all these shots in, the bull’s tracks suddenly went from walking to running. Blood became lighter and within about 100 yards he headed into the thickest of cover showing no sign of a broken leg, shoulder or hip.

WITH THIS WE STOP!

Dempsey looked at me and said, ‘Buffalo don’t stiffen up. But if we give them enough time, sometimes they lay down and die. So we wait’. Seconds turned into minutes and minutes into a half hour. We listened but didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. We got up, stretched our limbs and Dempsey explained to me how this was going to go- He said, “First, this is going to likely end in a gunfight. If he comes, wait until he is close and shoot between the eyes if his head is down, and in the nose if it is up. If he gets someone on the ground you must get low, kneel if necessary before you shoot so you don’t shoot someone by mistake”.

You could clearly feel the nervous energy radiating through the air. This is exactly the situation a PH doesn’t want to be in but this is the situation we now found ourselves in, and we must deal with it. Onwards we tracked into the thickest of mopane, following tracks that have at least turned back to a walk. One step at a time, we look, listen and keep our rifles pointed forward with our thumbs on the safety. If there was ever a time that all senses were heightened to their utmost, this would be it!

Slow steps turn into a 3/4 mile track as we continue through this stretch of mopane. As we come out on the other side it’s evident he has not stopped to lay down. The blood was light. I can see the focus and concern on Dempsey’s face. We trudged ahead slowly and deliberately, arriving at a small clearing where the bull had stopped. Blood is everywhere! It’s clearly coming out of both sides of his body and mouth. Truly amazing how he has covered this much ground and not laid down once. But clearly, we now believe that he is very sick.

We take a few more steps and one of the trackers quickly stops and points. There, 60 yards in front of us, low down in knee high grass is a grey blob that I would have said was a boulder. Dempsey tells me to shoot immediately. I pick up, not able to tell end from end and place a solid into the middle of the old gray bull. Immediately after my gun sounds Dempsey also fires an assurance shot putting a 400 Grain Barnes Solid from a 416 Rigby into the bull.

Nothing happens, no movement.

The trackers report that they believe he was already dead. But we were certainly taking no chances! We reload and approach slowly. As he comes into better focus, we see he is facing us. Yes, he was dead. He had turned around and was facing and protecting his back trail.

The warrior had passed! We finished the approach. From behind the Buff’s shoulder Dempsey gives the bull a kick to the rump and touches his eye with the muzzle of his rifle and confirms there is no sign of life. The battle is over and a lifelong dream has just been fulfilled.

A beautiful old Dagga Boy was down!

After the hugs, smiles and handshakes we sit and reflect on the fact that these are truly the best of times. We have a safe hunting party and have hunted what we believe to be the perfect old bull. He is down in condition shown clearly by the loose skin on his neck. He is no longer the physical specimen he was surely many years ago in his prime. His right horn is recently broken off with the top of his boss about to completely chip off as well! His left horn tip is also thoroughly worn down. The scars on his face and the healed gash on his right rear leg are all telling of a bull that has won many battles to maintain breeding rights and survive the ever-present lions. Clearly on both sides of his torso one can see grey protruding bumps revealing that a few ribs were broken. Some of these ribs were later seen to no longer be attached to his spine! The condition of his hide is scarred, and most parts are hairless. His ears are both shredded from all the fighting he has done. Clearly this bull has worked hard to pass on his genetics in years gone by and was struggling to just hang on at this point in time at the end of a very dry Mozambique Winter.

It is interesting, being born on a farm in the United States you are almost raised with a gun in hand. It is a time in one's life that affords one the privilege to be able to provide to those in need. It allows for personal self-reflection and graces one with the opportunity to be in and appreciate nature. All of that was something I had the privilege of experiencing almost since birth. Yet, this hunt, in this place…made me feel like it was the first time I’d ever hunted, the first time I’d ever truly seen the beauty of nature, smelt the sweet air of the wild or felt the heat of the African soil underfoot. It was a truly beautiful reawakening.

Be proud of your scars old dagga boy, they are a reflection of all the battles you have won. When I looked upon him, I was overcome with the sentiment that this old boy’s scars were medals of all the challenges he overcame.

Somehow at this moment, the adrenaline rush switched to a deep sense of quiet reflection. Old dagga had won the battles but did he lose the war? Were we more alike than different? The old hunter not the physical specimen I once was, covered in my own scars both seen and unseen -all to survive. In many aspects we were both warriors whose only goal was to survive.

And survive we had.

I hope everyone enjoyed the read. It was my pleasure sharing this adventure with such a wonderful group of gents and ladies.


There is a saying that each place a person travels is a page in their book of life. Thanks to Dempsey Bayley with Bayley Sippel Hunting Safari's I feel like they helped me to fill a full chapter in my book!

Kindest of Regards,
Frank Trovato

 

[Altitude sickness]

Thanks for the write up. A great read. And man what a bull. Congrats !

 

[USN]

outstanding, well done to all!

 

[WAB]

A truly great bull properly hunted. Congratulations Sir!

 

[OneOldToad]

Awesome - writeup - safari of lifetime - Congrats Sir - well done!
Really enjoyed the read. Thanks for posting.

 

[Safari1]

THIS IS IT!

I swing around to the right and start to come up onto my knees when my eyes lock in on a big black wall. The target bull is standing a stone's throw away and intensely looking right at me! Not only is he looking my way but he is also facing me so I will have to make the always tricky frontal shot.

I straighten my torso and I go off my left hand settling on both of my knees with my feet behind me. I bring the rifle to my face, not once taking my eyes off of the buffalo's. This was certainly not the shot I was hoping for! Frontal shots are difficult on any animal, never mind a Cape Buffalo that is built like an army tank. He is holding his head in the alert position with his nose about 50% up his body line. Having studied shot placement at nauseam I knew I needed to put a bullet directly under his chin to reach his vitals hidden behind it.

I put the red dot on his jaw right below his nose. I begin to take up the slack on the trigger. The trigger breaks cleanly and the rifle roars. A 570 Grain Swift A-Frame bullet hurtles through the air on a path to meet Mr Buffalo smack in the chest. As I begin to recover from the recoil I see that the Buffalo has been hard hit and is dancing in place... actually, he’s doing a forced acrobatic flip in which his head and neck are being pushed above and past his torso. His head contacts the ground before his front feet which are now above him. The effect of the massive energy dump the Swift bullet has now expelled into his body was truly unbelievable to witness.

Dempsey immediately tells me to shoot him again. The bull was now on the ground, all four feet under him facing directly away from us with his head facing slightly left of his hips. I sent a Woodleigh 570 grain hydro solid into his left hind quarter that we later learned came out just inside of his right front leg below his shoulder.

“Reload, Reload” Dempsey calmly but urgently tells me.

As I break the double, both empties eject and fly through the air as I quickly grab 2 more solids from my ammo belt, slide them into the barrels and close the action with a solid thud. Dempsey grabs me by the arm and we jog towards the buffalo to close the distance. His head is still up. Dempsey is a stride in front of me a little to my left doing what any good PH worth his salt would do, making sure his hunter is safe and not taking his eyes off of the buffalo after confirming the first buff had evacuated the area.

We closed the distance by half and by now the buffalo has gathered his senses and heard us coming. He turns his head and makes eye contact. We both anticipate what is next. I move into position beside Dempsey and at that very instant the buff somehow springs to his feet in a big cloud of dust, masking his shoulder and body from clear view while he remains focused on us. In the blink of an eye he is broadside as he turns to face us. Clearly he is planning to come at us. His head is facing us and the torso and legs are starting to follow!

I bring the rifle to my face, find some black in the cloud of dust that has now enveloped him and send a solid down range. This bullet once again drives him off his feet but his legs don’t stop this time. He is knocked over onto his side and he uses that energy to roll back in the opposite direction of the fall onto his feet and within seconds is running broadside at a left angle away from us like he was going to town to cash in a million-dollar lottery ticket. I put the second Woodleigh into his torso but he shows no sign of impact. The bull clearly has buckets of adrenaline racing through his system.

The bull disappears into the brush.

Nervous celebrations and discussions recapping what had just happened start but we know not to count your chickens before they have hatched. We wait, we wait and we wait some more. No death bellow! After 15 minutes Dempsey puts the trackers into action. As we follow the blood it looks strong and bright. Pieces of lung are mixed in and several large pieces of bone shards are collected along the way - some as big as an inch square. We later learned that the first bullet had hit him square in the lower jaw, went through his neck and a single lung before coming to rest in his paunch.

However even with all these shots in, the bull’s tracks suddenly went from walking to running. Blood became lighter and within about 100 yards he headed into the thickest of cover showing no sign of a broken leg, shoulder or hip.

WITH THIS WE STOP!

Dempsey looked at me and said, ‘Buffalo don’t stiffen up. But if we give them enough time, sometimes they lay down and die. So we wait’. Seconds turned into minutes and minutes into a half hour. We listened but didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. We got up, stretched our limbs and Dempsey explained to me how this was going to go- He said, “First, this is going to likely end in a gunfight. If he comes, wait until he is close and shoot between the eyes if his head is down, and in the nose if it is up. If he gets someone on the ground you must get low, kneel if necessary before you shoot so you don’t shoot someone by mistake”.

You could clearly feel the nervous energy radiating through the air. This is exactly the situation a PH doesn’t want to be in but this is the situation we now found ourselves in, and we must deal with it. Onwards we tracked into the thickest of mopane, following tracks that have at least turned back to a walk. One step at a time, we look, listen and keep our rifles pointed forward with our thumbs on the safety. If there was ever a time that all senses were heightened to their utmost, this would be it!

Slow steps turn into a 3/4 mile track as we continue through this stretch of mopane. As we come out on the other side it’s evident he has not stopped to lay down. The blood was light. I can see the focus and concern on Dempsey’s face. We trudged ahead slowly and deliberately, arriving at a small clearing where the bull had stopped. Blood is everywhere! It’s clearly coming out of both sides of his body and mouth. Truly amazing how he has covered this much ground and not laid down once. But clearly, we now believe that he is very sick.

We take a few more steps and one of the trackers quickly stops and points. There, 60 yards in front of us, low down in knee high grass is a grey blob that I would have said was a boulder. Dempsey tells me to shoot immediately. I pick up, not able to tell end from end and place a solid into the middle of the old gray bull. Immediately after my gun sounds Dempsey also fires an assurance shot putting a 400 Grain Barnes Solid from a 416 Rigby into the bull.

Nothing happens, no movement.

The trackers report that they believe he was already dead. But we were certainly taking no chances! We reload and approach slowly. As he comes into better focus, we see he is facing us. Yes, he was dead. He had turned around and was facing and protecting his back trail.

The warrior had passed! We finished the approach. From behind the Buff’s shoulder Dempsey gives the bull a kick to the rump and touches his eye with the muzzle of his rifle and confirms there is no sign of life. The battle is over and a lifelong dream has just been fulfilled.

A beautiful old Dagga Boy was down!

After the hugs, smiles and handshakes we sit and reflect on the fact that these are truly the best of times. We have a safe hunting party and have hunted what we believe to be the perfect old bull. He is down in condition shown clearly by the loose skin on his neck. He is no longer the physical specimen he was surely many years ago in his prime. His right horn is recently broken off with the top of his boss about to completely chip off as well! His left horn tip is also thoroughly worn down. The scars on his face and the healed gash on his right rear leg are all telling of a bull that has won many battles to maintain breeding rights and survive the ever-present lions. Clearly on both sides of his torso one can see grey protruding bumps revealing that a few ribs were broken. Some of these ribs were later seen to no longer be attached to his spine! The condition of his hide is scarred, and most parts are hairless. His ears are both shredded from all the fighting he has done. Clearly this bull has worked hard to pass on his genetics in years gone by and was struggling to just hang on at this point in time at the end of a very dry Mozambique Winter.

It is interesting, being born on a farm in the United States you are almost raised with a gun in hand. It is a time in one's life that affords one the privilege to be able to provide to those in need. It allows for personal self-reflection and graces one with the opportunity to be in and appreciate nature. All of that was something I had the privilege of experiencing almost since birth. Yet, this hunt, in this place…made me feel like it was the first time I’d ever hunted, the first time I’d ever truly seen the beauty of nature, smelt the sweet air of the wild or felt the heat of the African soil underfoot. It was a truly beautiful reawakening.

Be proud of your scars old dagga boy, they are a reflection of all the battles you have won. When I looked upon him, I was overcome with the sentiment that this old boy’s scars were medals of all the challenges he overcame.

Somehow at this moment, the adrenaline rush switched to a deep sense of quiet reflection. Old dagga had won the battles but did he lose the war? Were we more alike than different? The old hunter not the physical specimen I once was, covered in my own scars both seen and unseen -all to survive. In many aspects we were both warriors whose only goal was to survive.

And survive we had.


View attachment 657418View attachment 657419

View attachment 657420View attachment 657421

I hope everyone enjoyed the read. It was my pleasure sharing this adventure with such a wonderful group of gents and ladies.


There is a saying that each place a person travels is a page in their book of life. Thanks to Dempsey Bayley with Bayley Sippel Hunting Safari's I feel like they helped me to fill a full chapter in my book!

Kindest of Regards,
Frank Trovato

Great hunt sir!

Any idea how they do on elephant?

 

[cajunchefray]

THIS IS IT!

I swing around to the right and start to come up onto my knees when my eyes lock in on a big black wall. The target bull is standing a stone's throw away and intensely looking right at me! Not only is he looking my way but he is also facing me so I will have to make the always tricky frontal shot.

I straighten my torso and I go off my left hand settling on both of my knees with my feet behind me. I bring the rifle to my face, not once taking my eyes off of the buffalo's. This was certainly not the shot I was hoping for! Frontal shots are difficult on any animal, never mind a Cape Buffalo that is built like an army tank. He is holding his head in the alert position with his nose about 50% up his body line. Having studied shot placement at nauseam I knew I needed to put a bullet directly under his chin to reach his vitals hidden behind it.

I put the red dot on his jaw right below his nose. I begin to take up the slack on the trigger. The trigger breaks cleanly and the rifle roars. A 570 Grain Swift A-Frame bullet hurtles through the air on a path to meet Mr Buffalo smack in the chest. As I begin to recover from the recoil I see that the Buffalo has been hard hit and is dancing in place... actually, he’s doing a forced acrobatic flip in which his head and neck are being pushed above and past his torso. His head contacts the ground before his front feet which are now above him. The effect of the massive energy dump the Swift bullet has now expelled into his body was truly unbelievable to witness.

Dempsey immediately tells me to shoot him again. The bull was now on the ground, all four feet under him facing directly away from us with his head facing slightly left of his hips. I sent a Woodleigh 570 grain hydro solid into his left hind quarter that we later learned came out just inside of his right front leg below his shoulder.

“Reload, Reload” Dempsey calmly but urgently tells me.

As I break the double, both empties eject and fly through the air as I quickly grab 2 more solids from my ammo belt, slide them into the barrels and close the action with a solid thud. Dempsey grabs me by the arm and we jog towards the buffalo to close the distance. His head is still up. Dempsey is a stride in front of me a little to my left doing what any good PH worth his salt would do, making sure his hunter is safe and not taking his eyes off of the buffalo after confirming the first buff had evacuated the area.

We closed the distance by half and by now the buffalo has gathered his senses and heard us coming. He turns his head and makes eye contact. We both anticipate what is next. I move into position beside Dempsey and at that very instant the buff somehow springs to his feet in a big cloud of dust, masking his shoulder and body from clear view while he remains focused on us. In the blink of an eye he is broadside as he turns to face us. Clearly he is planning to come at us. His head is facing us and the torso and legs are starting to follow!

I bring the rifle to my face, find some black in the cloud of dust that has now enveloped him and send a solid down range. This bullet once again drives him off his feet but his legs don’t stop this time. He is knocked over onto his side and he uses that energy to roll back in the opposite direction of the fall onto his feet and within seconds is running broadside at a left angle away from us like he was going to town to cash in a million-dollar lottery ticket. I put the second Woodleigh into his torso but he shows no sign of impact. The bull clearly has buckets of adrenaline racing through his system.

The bull disappears into the brush.

Nervous celebrations and discussions recapping what had just happened start but we know not to count your chickens before they have hatched. We wait, we wait and we wait some more. No death bellow! After 15 minutes Dempsey puts the trackers into action. As we follow the blood it looks strong and bright. Pieces of lung are mixed in and several large pieces of bone shards are collected along the way - some as big as an inch square. We later learned that the first bullet had hit him square in the lower jaw, went through his neck and a single lung before coming to rest in his paunch.

However even with all these shots in, the bull’s tracks suddenly went from walking to running. Blood became lighter and within about 100 yards he headed into the thickest of cover showing no sign of a broken leg, shoulder or hip.

WITH THIS WE STOP!

Dempsey looked at me and said, ‘Buffalo don’t stiffen up. But if we give them enough time, sometimes they lay down and die. So we wait’. Seconds turned into minutes and minutes into a half hour. We listened but didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. We got up, stretched our limbs and Dempsey explained to me how this was going to go- He said, “First, this is going to likely end in a gunfight. If he comes, wait until he is close and shoot between the eyes if his head is down, and in the nose if it is up. If he gets someone on the ground you must get low, kneel if necessary before you shoot so you don’t shoot someone by mistake”.

You could clearly feel the nervous energy radiating through the air. This is exactly the situation a PH doesn’t want to be in but this is the situation we now found ourselves in, and we must deal with it. Onwards we tracked into the thickest of mopane, following tracks that have at least turned back to a walk. One step at a time, we look, listen and keep our rifles pointed forward with our thumbs on the safety. If there was ever a time that all senses were heightened to their utmost, this would be it!

Slow steps turn into a 3/4 mile track as we continue through this stretch of mopane. As we come out on the other side it’s evident he has not stopped to lay down. The blood was light. I can see the focus and concern on Dempsey’s face. We trudged ahead slowly and deliberately, arriving at a small clearing where the bull had stopped. Blood is everywhere! It’s clearly coming out of both sides of his body and mouth. Truly amazing how he has covered this much ground and not laid down once. But clearly, we now believe that he is very sick.

We take a few more steps and one of the trackers quickly stops and points. There, 60 yards in front of us, low down in knee high grass is a grey blob that I would have said was a boulder. Dempsey tells me to shoot immediately. I pick up, not able to tell end from end and place a solid into the middle of the old gray bull. Immediately after my gun sounds Dempsey also fires an assurance shot putting a 400 Grain Barnes Solid from a 416 Rigby into the bull.

Nothing happens, no movement.

The trackers report that they believe he was already dead. But we were certainly taking no chances! We reload and approach slowly. As he comes into better focus, we see he is facing us. Yes, he was dead. He had turned around and was facing and protecting his back trail.

The warrior had passed! We finished the approach. From behind the Buff’s shoulder Dempsey gives the bull a kick to the rump and touches his eye with the muzzle of his rifle and confirms there is no sign of life. The battle is over and a lifelong dream has just been fulfilled.

A beautiful old Dagga Boy was down!

After the hugs, smiles and handshakes we sit and reflect on the fact that these are truly the best of times. We have a safe hunting party and have hunted what we believe to be the perfect old bull. He is down in condition shown clearly by the loose skin on his neck. He is no longer the physical specimen he was surely many years ago in his prime. His right horn is recently broken off with the top of his boss about to completely chip off as well! His left horn tip is also thoroughly worn down. The scars on his face and the healed gash on his right rear leg are all telling of a bull that has won many battles to maintain breeding rights and survive the ever-present lions. Clearly on both sides of his torso one can see grey protruding bumps revealing that a few ribs were broken. Some of these ribs were later seen to no longer be attached to his spine! The condition of his hide is scarred, and most parts are hairless. His ears are both shredded from all the fighting he has done. Clearly this bull has worked hard to pass on his genetics in years gone by and was struggling to just hang on at this point in time at the end of a very dry Mozambique Winter.

It is interesting, being born on a farm in the United States you are almost raised with a gun in hand. It is a time in one's life that affords one the privilege to be able to provide to those in need. It allows for personal self-reflection and graces one with the opportunity to be in and appreciate nature. All of that was something I had the privilege of experiencing almost since birth. Yet, this hunt, in this place…made me feel like it was the first time I’d ever hunted, the first time I’d ever truly seen the beauty of nature, smelt the sweet air of the wild or felt the heat of the African soil underfoot. It was a truly beautiful reawakening.

Be proud of your scars old dagga boy, they are a reflection of all the battles you have won. When I looked upon him, I was overcome with the sentiment that this old boy’s scars were medals of all the challenges he overcame.

Somehow at this moment, the adrenaline rush switched to a deep sense of quiet reflection. Old dagga had won the battles but did he lose the war? Were we more alike than different? The old hunter not the physical specimen I once was, covered in my own scars both seen and unseen -all to survive. In many aspects we were both warriors whose only goal was to survive.

And survive we had.


View attachment 657418View attachment 657419

View attachment 657420View attachment 657421

I hope everyone enjoyed the read. It was my pleasure sharing this adventure with such a wonderful group of gents and ladies.


There is a saying that each place a person travels is a page in their book of life. Thanks to Dempsey Bayley with Bayley Sippel Hunting Safari's I feel like they helped me to fill a full chapter in my book!

Kindest of Regards,
Frank Trovato

Thank You, @ftrovato , for taking us along on this adventure. After reading, I needed to wipe the sweat from my face and clean the dirt and sand from my limbs.

That area of Mozambique is a dream hunt for me for decades.

The written story is worthy publishing to a greater audience.
I hope the contract and check is in the mail .

Great pictures.

 

[Scott CWO]

Bravo and well done!

 

[Hunt anything]

Definitely a bull and hunt to be proud of!! Congratulations!

 

[ftrovato]

Great hunt sir!

Any idea how they do on elephant?

My understanding is that they only get a few licenses per year. However I know that they took 90, 70 & 50 pounders this past year. You dont hear those numbers (90 & 70) very often in this century!

Reach out to Dempsey Bayly for details @ https://www.baylysippelsafaris.co.za/
You won't regret it!

 

[cperso]

Great write up,well done.

 

[Quest#1]

Fantastic! Thank you!

 

[meigsbucks]

Heck of a story. Some great trophies. That buff was a true warrior. Congratulations on making your dream come true.