PART TWO
With Mark's Ele successfully in the books, flights south were booked, and the following day after a bit of juggling Mark, Marius and I were back at Vic Falls Airport for the Fastjet flight back to OR Tambo. Back in RSA, we drove north stopping for a memorable pancake lunch (if you know, you know!) before arriving at the Buff property in the Timbavati area around dinner time.
Marius and I had spoken about this hunt many times over the past three years. I think it's fair to say our ideals align pretty well when it comes to Buffalo. I couldn't care less for inches nor spread. I wanted a crusty old bull, with character and good hard bosses. And most of all I wanted a good traditional hunt. Marius had warned me that the buff in this area were switched on and super wary, but he persevered as there was proper old bulls in the area if a hunter's luck was in!
After breakfast the next morning, we headed to the range where I uncased my Mk. X .458 Win Mag for this first time this trip. I was shooting 480gn Woodleigh softs and solids if required. I loaded my magazine and my belt with softs, slipping 3 of the solids in the rear-most pouch. Happily, one shot over the sticks at 50m was all that was required to confirm my Meopta R2 1-6 was still doing what it should. It's not a pretty rifle. But it's light, and it works.
Marius decided we'd walk out of camp this morning. There was a waterhole only about a kilometer away, that was worth checking before we announce our arrival with a Landcruiser. Literally as we left camp, fresh Leopard tracks dragging a kill into the bush was enough to kick the senses into gear. Coupled with fresh Buffalo crap on the grass between our bedrooms, it was clear we were in the right place! We snuck our way down to the waterhole and circled it, it was great to stretch the legs after a day travelling. Nothing was at home, so we radioed for the bakkie to come and collect us. We then started driving the tracks, looking for fresh tracks to follow with tracker Rex up front.
After a relatively short while, the tracks of a small group of bulls cut across in front of us, and Rex decided they were worth following. We'd only gone a couple of hundred metres and were looking for more prints, when a snort up ahead followed by thundering hooves, let us know that we'd been beaten for the first time this hunt. In the glimpse I got as he departed, he was a big old bull...
We followed a few more tracks that morning and got close to a few buff, but nothing that gave us an opportunity. Mid afternoon, we stalked in on a large mob of buff that turned out to be a big family group, probably 30 strong. We tailed them for a while through the thick cover until the mob spooked and actually turned back towards us. We hunkered down behind a small bush and set the sticks, watching as the scattered mob fed through the bush before us, from right to left, all within 60 metres. There were a couple of big bulls present, one nearly hard, but nothing mature enough to get us excited. But still, it was an excellent encouter that got the hairs on the back of my neck standing! I did take the opportunity to take my first look at my crosshairs on a buffalo bull however...
Day 2 on Buffalo dawned and with the main tracks dragged clean by the trackers the night before, we set out with hopes high for fresh sign. We actually saw the first buffalo from the truck, and there looked like a couple of quality old boys at home. Continuing on, we did a slow full lap of the large block they were in, to ensure they hadn't ran off to other parts. Knowing they were still in there, we set off on foot, cirlcing around downwind to try and cut the bulls off in the direction they were last headed. Marius and the trackers did a spectacular job, and after a couple of hours of carefully placing every footfall as we quietly snuck in, my eagle-eyed PH spotted sunshine off a polished boss through, of course, the thickest part of the bush.
Marius crawled to the right, to try and get a better look at the bedded bull. He motioned for me to follow, which I did with far less ability, but I managed to get there nonetheless, we'd had to be careful as other younger bulls were feeding all around him. We wriggled up under a small tree and Marius set the short sticks, and slid my 458 over the top. Sliding up behind my rifle, I got comfortably settled cross-legged, and had a nice solid rest. Now all we needed was for the bull to stand, as all we could see was his head. For two long hours we waited. Every muscle in my lower body had gone numb and 'pins & needles' had well and truly taken hold. Coupled with a severe lack of sleep, it was all I could do to hold my attention; but with a big bedded bull at just 35m, I made myself stay on the job. Surely this bull had to get hungry eventually, his mates were all feeding!
After two hours, the breeze which had been constant in our face the whole time, failed us. A tiny puff on the back of our necks was all it took, and the bulls went straight into top gear - gone. I was demoralised - all of Marius' warning as to how wild these buff were suddenly came home to roost!
We returned to camp for a very quick early lunch, before heading out again to make the most of every hour of the day. We cut the tracks of 4 bulls mid-afternoon, and took up the chase again, hoping to find them bedded after watering. Again we did everything right, and after a great stalk, Rex indicated to Marius that he could hear the oxpeckers close ahead. Soon after we could hear footsteps to confirm it! Closing in, Rex crawled forward around one last bush, with Marius close behind, and as they glassed around the bush, I only had to look at their faces to know we were
on!
Slinging my rifle across my front, I crawled across to where the guys were hunkered down, staying as low as possible. Marius was already unscrewing the legs from his shooting sticks when I got there. "There is a great old duggaboy bedded 30 yards ahead. He's quartering on. I can't see his width, but he has huge square bosses". I crawed slowly behind him towards the sticks.
"Slowly get behind the rifle and sit up, and shoot him right were his neck meets his shoulder. We'll hammer him right in his bed," said my PH. I felt surprisingly calm as I snuck up behind my stock. As myeye reached my scope, all I saw was that buff's ass as he stood and fed away from us...
We hadn't spooked him; he'd just decided at that exact second that it was time to get up and feed. And for some inexplicable reason, he turned 180 degrees as he did so. All we needed was another 30 seconds. 15 even. I watched that bull for some time until the wind again betrayed our position, with no shot on offer. And there effectively ended our second day on buffalo. We followed up a couple more leads as the light failed, and then a rum (or two) by the campfire was just what was needed to end a long, difficult and frustrating day....
TBC....
I was in a rush this morning and didn’t read the end bit that said “TBC”
