MOZAMBIQUE: It Was The Safari of A Lifetime

[Frederik]

Keep em coming enjoying the report.

 

[Firebird]

Enjoying and Eager for more!

 

[WMU05]

This is really good. I'll be following along.

 

[ftrovato]

Day One. At 5:30 AM I entered the dining tent and was greeted by Wayne. His optimism and stately cheerful exterior was contagious. Clearly this distinguished man was filled with excitement and anticipation to show me all that Mutemba had to offer. We had a quick continental breakfast where I shared my thoughts that a person only gets to have one first day to hunt free range cape buffalo and today was that day for me! A dream in the making for over 40 years.

The first item on the agenda was to shoot and check the rifles after the long journey. With great pride, I unsleeved my Heym 89B 500 Nitro Express rifle that I had spent much time with over the previous 18 months getting acquainted as well as perfecting my ammunition loads. After all, this was a traditional old world buffalo hunt and I planned on taking up the challenge with an old world style English double rifle.

Naturally the PH’s and Trackers watched with a close eye hoping that I would demonstrate that I could confidently handle the rifle. At the end of the day it really is the hunter's responsibility to stay focused, handle their rifle with confidence and be prepared to shoot with precision when the opportunity presents itself. It seems I, and my Nitro Express rifle, passed the PH’s test, and it was off to the first waterhole!

Once out, Dempsey immediately put the trackers into action looking for fresh buffalo tracks. As I watched the trackers set off in a large circle around the water hole it was evident they took their trade very seriously. Their concentration was palpable, and the trackers were immediately spotting signs that I had never noticed in all my years of hunting.

Whilst strolling around the waterhole, suddenly and appearing out of what seemed like thin air, a family of 8 elephant cows and calves were on top of us. We found ourselves between them and the waterhole! This was more anxiety provoking than words can express! The matriarch of the herd flared her ears, vocalized a loud squeal and started to walk very briskly toward us making it clear that we were not welcome.

Dempsey quickly grabbed me by the shirt and started fast stepping towards the truck. However, to get away we had to go towards the elephants who were still closing in on us and it was clear we were all going to converge at the Toyota at a similar time.

As we reached the truck Wayne stepped out in front of us waving his hands and yelling at the charging elephant. This huge herbivorous pachyderm and all of her followers quickly stopped, paused, turned and then continued fast walking 90 degrees to where we were. They then took a small detour, circled around us and then much to our relief the herd headed to the water. We breathed a huge exhale of relief and needless to say, we gave them a wide berth. Elephant cows are not your friends and the expression ‘don’t poke the pig’ came to mind, only in this case it was ‘don’t poke the humongous elephants!’

After the unexpected elephant excitement, the trackers let us know there were no obviously fresh buffalo tracks, so we set off for the next waterhole. Within moments, the trackers shared the news that a single bull track was heading northwards. The wind was right and we decided to take up the tracks. I could feel the excitement building – this was it! I was going to get my chance 40 years in the making!

Minutes of tracking slowly turned into an hour with still no sign of the bull slowing his walk. We continued on slowly and about an hour and a half into the walk the trackers paused, consulted amongst each other and reported that - although they couldn’t see it, they could tell by their skill and experience - the Buff was looking for a place to lay down in the thick mopanie to escape the heat of the day and chew his cud.

As we slowly moved through the shoulder high scrub mopanie I felt the wind brush across the back of my neck- certainly not what any of us wanted to feel, and we exchanged glances of concern! After the encounter with the elephants, we had to be on alert. Onwards we went, ever more cautiously when out of nowhere we heard a rumble.

Directly in front of us was Mr. Buff, and it was clear he had caught our scent.

The bull appeared for that moment to live up to his reputation for being grumpy and unpredictable. I held my breath as I imagined getting charged at by a second wild animal in the space of a few hours. Luckily, after a very, very long moment, this most formidable of Africa’s wild bovids decided his exit strategy was a fast run directly away from us.

By this point the heat of the day was starting to set in and with it the wind started swirling. Dempsey felt we should leave the tracks and begin our walk back to the truck before the temperature reached the forecasted 38 C and we pushed the bull out of the concession area, as he was likely to hang around without any further pressure. And with that, the afternoon found us hunting plains game.

The Buffalo would have to wait...

Day Two to follow.

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Day two was upon us with another beautiful sunrise. We were out immediately to our first waterhole, but unfortunately we found no buffalo tracks. This was repeated at the next water hole, but finally at the third water hole we found a pair of buffalo that had recently headed out, with the wind at their back, and an additional group of 7 bulls headed into the wind.

Although it was agreed by Dempsey and the trackers that the ideal would be to follow the 2 bulls, they felt we wouldn’t stand a chance of getting a decent look at them with the prevailing wind direction. With that in mind, we set off in pursuit of the 7 bulls. The air was dry, and the sirocco winds felt just right. We took it slowly over the next mile. Inch by inch we spotted the tracks. We knew the tracks were fresh and our bodies were flooded with the old cliche ‘the thrill of the hunt’. Maybe it was knowing that Cape buffalo are notorious for launching unprovoked charges or maybe it was the setting, or not knowing what was around the next bend…or maybe, it was all those things that made this time so exhilarating!

We were about to step out of the mopane when we heard the unmistakable roar of buffalo on the run! We paused for several minutes to reflect and gather our senses as we discussed what had happened; The trackers were confident that something else had spooked them. The wind was holding steady, we were in heavy cover and hadn’t made any offensive noise.

It was decided to proceed, hoping the buffs would not have gone far and calmed down quickly. It was becoming increasingly clear to me that these buff have a tough existence here in Mozambique. Lions clearly have them on the menu making them even more skittish; we learned that there were 2 male lions in the concession area shadowing a large herd of cows, calves and young bulls. Clearly it took more than simply being large to stay alive in this bush. These buffalo have to always be on guard 24/7 and running at the first sign of danger is their first line of defense.

Slowly we pushed forward on the tracks for another 45 minutes. Their tracks went from a gallop to a trot and then finally to a walk. Again within ½ a mile we could feel we were getting close. My heart was pounding - was it joy, fear, excitement or all of the above? The sun was now reaching its zenith and once again the wind started to swirl. Shortly after we discovered that the buffalo tracks had gone back to a run. It seemed that they had picked up our scent.

Ever so quietly these giant beasts seem to be able to depart without even a sound. With that, we started the long walk back to the truck before the high temps set in. After lunch we were off to stalk some thickets that housed the elusive Suni antelope. The taking of a Suni that day would be a wonderful addition to my pursuit of the elusive Tiny Ten.

 

[Scott CWO]

Day two was upon us with another beautiful sunrise. We were out immediately to our first waterhole, but unfortunately we found no buffalo tracks. This was repeated at the next water hole, but finally at the third water hole we found a pair of buffalo that had recently headed out, with the wind at their back, and an additional group of 7 bulls headed into the wind.

Although it was agreed by Dempsey and the trackers that the ideal would be to follow the 2 bulls, they felt we wouldn’t stand a chance of getting a decent look at them with the prevailing wind direction. With that in mind, we set off in pursuit of the 7 bulls. The air was dry, and the sirocco winds felt just right. We took it slowly over the next mile. Inch by inch we spotted the tracks. We knew the tracks were fresh and our bodies were flooded with the old cliche ‘the thrill of the hunt’. Maybe it was knowing that Cape buffalo are notorious for launching unprovoked charges or maybe it was the setting, or not knowing what was around the next bend…or maybe, it was all those things that made this time so exhilarating!

We were about to step out of the mopane when we heard the unmistakable roar of buffalo on the run! We paused for several minutes to reflect and gather our senses as we discussed what had happened; The trackers were confident that something else had spooked them. The wind was holding steady, we were in heavy cover and hadn’t made any offensive noise.

It was decided to proceed, hoping the buffs would not have gone far and calmed down quickly. It was becoming increasingly clear to me that these buff have a tough existence here in Mozambique. Lions clearly have them on the menu making them even more skittish; we learned that there were 2 male lions in the concession area shadowing a large herd of cows, calves and young bulls. Clearly it took more than simply being large to stay alive in this bush. These buffalo have to always be on guard 24/7 and running at the first sign of danger is their first line of defense.

Slowly we pushed forward on the tracks for another 45 minutes. Their tracks went from a gallop to a trot and then finally to a walk. Again within ½ a mile we could feel we were getting close. My heart was pounding - was it joy, fear, excitement or all of the above? The sun was now reaching its zenith and once again the wind started to swirl. Shortly after we discovered that the buffalo tracks had gone back to a run. It seemed that they had picked up our scent.

Ever so quietly these giant beasts seem to be able to depart without even a sound. With that, we started the long walk back to the truck before the high temps set in. After lunch we were off to stalk some thickets that housed the elusive Suni antelope. The taking of a Suni that day would be a wonderful addition to my pursuit of the elusive Tiny Ten.


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Five days between posts - you’re killing us here!
Hope you post again tomorrow. Great hunt so far!

 

[USN]

Five days between posts - you’re killing us here!
Hope you post again tomorrow. Great hunt so far!

Concur, please continue

 

[Frederik]

5 days to wait for a short story then posting pictures of 3 wonderful trophies without any story to it youre killing us.

 

[VertigoBE]

Thanks for sharing so far @ftrovato . Looking forward to hearing more

And Waidmannsheil for a few beautiful trophies so far, would love to hear more about those hunts too!

 

[Hunt anything]

I would really like to hear about the suni and grysbok hunts. Love the nyala and warthog as well. Congratulations.

 

[gizmo]

Holly smokes what an epic start to an epic adventure. Can’t wait to read the rest. Moz has been way high on my bucket list ever since becoming friends with Simon Leach who use to have a concession up there. Congrats and I can’t wait to hear the rest!

 

[Safari1]

Holly smokes what an epic start to an epic adventure. Can’t wait to read the rest. Moz has been way high on my bucket list ever since becoming friends with Simon Leach who use to have a concession up there. Congrats and I can’t wait to hear the rest!

Simons area went belly up when the elephant were poached out, unfortunately. The only thing he had left was sable.

 

[gizmo]

Simons area went belly up when the elephant were poached out, unfortunately. The only thing he had left was sable.

Yessir I remember that and it was tragic. I know he put his heart and soul into it. He really was the one who put the fire in me for Moz, well he and Nyassa wildebeest.
I love reading about Wally Johnson as well. He certainly put some miles in over the years in Moz. One day I hope to get to go. Until then I will be content living vicariously through you and those who also go between now and then. @AZDAVE and his wife just returned from Moz not too long ago and I had the good fortune of getting to visit with them just before the holidays about the trip.
Moz and Zim are the two places I really want to experience before I die.

 

[Hunt anything]

Yessir I remember that and it was tragic. I know he put his heart and soul into it. He really was the one who put the fire in me for Moz, well he and Nyassa wildebeest.
I love reading about Wally Johnson as well. He certainly put some miles in over the years in Moz. One day I hope to get to go. Until then I will be content living vicariously through you and those who also go between now and then. @AZDAVE and his wife just returned from Moz not too long ago and I had the good fortune of getting to visit with them just before the holidays about the trip.
Moz and Zim are the two places I really want to experience before I die.

If you liked reading about Wally Johnson you would probably enjoy “Kambaku” bye Harry Manners. He was hunting at the same time as Wally. He hunted around the Marromeu area where coutadas 10 and 11 are and a couple others. It’s in the Zambezi delta . They are full of game and where I spent a chunk of time in 2014.

 

[gizmo]

If you liked reading about Wally Johnson you would probably enjoy “Kambaku” bye Harry Manners. He was hunting at the same time as Wally. He hunted around the Marromeu area where coutadas 10 and 11 are and a couple others. It’s in the Zambezi delta . They are full of game and where I spent a chunk of time in 2014.

Thank you. I will put it on my reading list and hunt a copy of it down.

 

[Red Leg]

Wow! That is the grandfather of warthogs.

 

[ftrovato]

Day two was upon us with another beautiful sunrise. We were out immediately to our first waterhole, but unfortunately we found no buffalo tracks. This was repeated at the next water hole, but finally at the third water hole we found a pair of buffalo that had recently headed out, with the wind at their back, and an additional group of 7 bulls headed into the wind.

Although it was agreed by Dempsey and the trackers that the ideal would be to follow the 2 bulls, they felt we wouldn’t stand a chance of getting a decent look at them with the prevailing wind direction. With that in mind, we set off in pursuit of the 7 bulls. The air was dry, and the sirocco winds felt just right. We took it slowly over the next mile. Inch by inch we spotted the tracks. We knew the tracks were fresh and our bodies were flooded with the old cliche ‘the thrill of the hunt’. Maybe it was knowing that Cape buffalo are notorious for launching unprovoked charges or maybe it was the setting, or not knowing what was around the next bend…or maybe, it was all those things that made this time so exhilarating!

We were about to step out of the mopane when we heard the unmistakable roar of buffalo on the run! We paused for several minutes to reflect and gather our senses as we discussed what had happened; The trackers were confident that something else had spooked them. The wind was holding steady, we were in heavy cover and hadn’t made any offensive noise.

It was decided to proceed, hoping the buffs would not have gone far and calmed down quickly. It was becoming increasingly clear to me that these buff have a tough existence here in Mozambique. Lions clearly have them on the menu making them even more skittish; we learned that there were 2 male lions in the concession area shadowing a large herd of cows, calves and young bulls. Clearly it took more than simply being large to stay alive in this bush. These buffalo have to always be on guard 24/7 and running at the first sign of danger is their first line of defense.

Slowly we pushed forward on the tracks for another 45 minutes. Their tracks went from a gallop to a trot and then finally to a walk. Again within ½ a mile we could feel we were getting close. My heart was pounding - was it joy, fear, excitement or all of the above? The sun was now reaching its zenith and once again the wind started to swirl. Shortly after we discovered that the buffalo tracks had gone back to a run. It seemed that they had picked up our scent.

Ever so quietly these giant beasts seem to be able to depart without even a sound. With that, we started the long walk back to the truck before the high temps set in. After lunch we were off to stalk some thickets that housed the elusive Suni antelope. The taking of a Suni that day would be a wonderful addition to my pursuit of the elusive Tiny Ten.


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Day 3. When I glanced back after getting out of bed it was obvious I hadn’t moved all night since there was a dried salt outline on the brown sheet around where I had laid- Clearly Moz was trying to go directly from Winter to Summer this first week of September. The heat and walking over the last few days gave me reason to reflect. African hunting might not be as physically demanding as the high elevation hunting of elk in the Wyoming Rockies or chasing caribou through the deep snow and frigid weather of the Canadian Hudson Bay. But, don’t be fooled, this environment is demanding and the heat oppressive, and if one does not pace themselves you can be quickly consumed.

We had our traditional light breakfast and headed to the Land-cruiser. As we loaded up, Dempsey looked at me and said ‘I have a good feeling we’re going to get on the right buffalo today’. I smiled and of course, agreed. In the past, a tightness in my stomach was usually a reliable barometer that I was going to get into a bit of good fortune. And, an excited tightness in my stomach was very much evident that morning.

We headed off to the first water hole to check for fresh tracks. On the way in we discovered the tracks of a large group of around 8 bulls moving away from the water hole. Then there it was, on the other side of the water - two sets of bull tracks. The two tracks were clearly from large bulls and the trackers diligently followed the tracks for around 150 yards. Upon their return they confirmed that these bulls were headed into the wind. Since it was early in the morning (6:00 AM) and we had a steady breeze in our face we could potentially enjoy several hours before the forecasted 40c heat turned on and the wind began to swirl.

We hastily gathered all the necessary supplies, loaded up our rifles and set off on the tracks. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into an hour and our two bulls were still together, slowly plodding along walking into the wind. Temps were starting to increase, and the sun rose ever higher in the sky. Every few minutes I would kick a little sandy soil and watch it quickly rise and pass by my heels. Anticipation was high, palpable even. Our focus was intense and clear. The trackers kept a slow yet steady pace through the thick mopane. Neither heat, nor thirst nor fear could divert these seasoned professionals.

The trackers turn back to us. They report that the buffalo are starting to zig zag, and this was very good news, as it meant they are looking for a place to bed down for the day.

Immediately the trackers slowed their approach, using all their senses to see, hear and smell as they search through the shadows looking for the beasts. We continued on at this very slow cautious pace with the five of us doing our best to not move more than our legs and make extra noises as we continue in a tight single file. We stop every 30 seconds or so to listen to our surroundings. Our head tracker Paulo looks back at us and ever so gently whispers that he hears ox-peckers about 100 yards ahead of us. We are closing in on the buffs.

The slight breeze is still steady and in our face. Dempsey looks at me and says ’Start to prepare yourself for what you may do. We are getting close’. Keep in mind at this point, for me and Dempsey it’s all about finding the oldest of Dagga Boys. There are not any tape measures in our pockets! We want age and character, not inches of spread.

With this instruction I’m now feeling an unusual sense of heightened awareness. The sandy soil compressing under my feet is making more sound than what I like. Every flicker of light off a branch grabs my attention. My hands are clammy and I have a feeling like I have finally arrived home to finish what I was destined to do all my life.

We move slowly...20, 30, 40 yards. Inches felt like miles. All of a sudden Paulo starts slowly reversing back towards us and reports that the buffalo are just on the other side of a termite mound that towers in front of us.

The ox-peckers have given the buffalo up.

After careful thought and much consideration Dempsey tells the trackers to hold steady while he and I creep forward to the right of the termite hill. The trackers take a seat. Dempsey and I crouch down low and slowly inch forward to the right - first 5, then 10, then 15 yards and take a knee side by side just past the mound. Dempsey stops and takes careful note of what can and cannot be seen in the shadows. Our location was wrong, there wasn’t enough visibility. We have to back out and rethink this stalk.

Back to the trackers we silently trek keeping crouched low to the ground. We regrouped and huddled together. Dempsey discussed his observations with the trackers and a new plan was discussed. Dempsey and I were to make a clockwise loop, this time back behind where we now were. This allowed us to come in from the left, well below the termite mound and thus keeping the wind in check with lots of brush between us whilst a few shooting lanes would hopefully open up. Down on our hands and knees we both began a 3 limbed crawl, carrying and protecting our rifles with our right hand. Seconds turn into minutes and minutes turn into successfully traversed yards. Our progress was slow however it seemed that nothing was noticing our movement.

Dempsey paused and rolled onto his rump, up came his binoculars. He sees the buffalo. I now see one too, in a channel about 50 yards away. I see the sun reflecting off his boss, his right ear twitching. He is facing straight toward us, chewing his cud, old, grey and beaten up. If it’s possible to ‘see’ wisdom… a wise old bull!

His bosses were definitely smoothed over and reflecting in the morning sun. He is, without question, a shooter- but Dempsey wants to see the other bull. We crawl a little further and Dempsey stops his crawl mid stride. Again, onto his haunches he goes and up comes his binoculars.

He hastily puts his binos down and with excitement clearly carrying through his voice he says “you are going to shoot the second bull”. Dempsey whispers, his accent thick and excitement obvious, “Old old Dagga Boy. One horn broken off and a proper Dagga boy!! Can you see him, Frank?”.

I responded “Not at all.”

He looks from where I’m positioned and tells me to turn around and start crawling back in the direction we came. Onwards I lead a slow crawl for about 10 yards. Dempsey grabs my foot and signals for me to stop.

With that he begins to whisper in my ear that the bull I couldn’t see before is 20 yards to the right of the bull I had already seen. He reminds me again, this is a spectacular old bull. “Here is what I want you to do Frank”, Dempsey instructs. “I want you to crawl ahead just past where we could see the first bull, there is a small footpath.” That will take your eye right to the second bull. The bull you’re going to shoot. When you get to that path, get up on your knees and take him!”

O’Boy, I can feel my pupils dilate, a buzzing in my ears and a dry lump in my throat. My adrenaline was rushing. This is it. Without pause I start the crawl back, glance ahead to my right, the first bull - the only one I’ve seen at this point, is up on his feet looking my way! I don’t want anything to go wrong but things seem to be quickly crumbling around us!

I continue to crawl whilst looking to the right. As I close in on the footpath the first bull suddenly runs off behind the termite mound immediately replaced like a shadow by the second bull. I feel Dempsey stop me and with the burden of haste carried clearly through his voice he instructs me to shoot him immediately.

This is it!!!!