ZIMBABWE: Dalton & York Safaris - No Bull, Double Bull

Great report so far @buck wild !! Your photos and story are bringing back fond memories of our own trip.

Can't wait to hear how the story continues!
 
I wanna know what the damn fruit was @buck wild!
 
Get on with the damn report already @buck wild !!

Seems like we are probably around hunting day three by now. Today's adventure will take us to one of York’s honey holes. The place we were headed to yesterday morning before we cut the fresh tracks. Again 30 minutes into the 2-hour drive, we stop. This time not because we cut fresh tracks but because we see fresh butt- a buffalo cow butt to be exact. She’s standing in the road in the shine of the headlights. We stop and let her proceed across. We slowly move forward and hear the herd off in the bush just to our right. We drive another half mile forward and stop. It’s breaking daylight but too early to wade into the bush with the herd so close. We mill around 30 minutes or so then assemble the party for the task at hand. We walk back down the road until we get to where the herd crossed over. 200 yards in we hear them rustling around. The early morning wind can’t make up its mind on which direction to blow just yet. We spot a cow then two, but the herd is nervous and breaks for thicker cover. We’ll come back later in the day. Ah real buffalo hunting. My first up-close, real-life hunting encounter with the query. I’m relived we weren’t successful. I still wanted to “earn it” a little more. Be careful what you ask for they say.

Although delayed, we finally make it to the honey hole. We are overlooking a drainage that holds water with a small open, flood plain around it. It’s quiet, all too quiet. Not a single animal is spotted and no fresh buffalo spoor. It is the moon, the finicky wind, the hunting gods having their say? It’s a gorgeous view though and one that was worth the effort to reach. On the way back out, we seemingly light the place on fire. It’s catches quickly in the dry, matted grass, thick from the very good winter rains. It’s takes off and we speed ahead to light a few more.


Light it up !!
 
I might be/or have been, in law enforcement over the course of my career. I am very familiar with the concept of informants but never with the enthusiasm of a Bush Informant (BI) :LOL: . Once word got around we were hunting for buffalo, the texts were flowing non-stop. BI’s were reporting multiple dagga boys near their fields. As noted from yesterday, they would often put them to bed in the mornings and knew exactly where they were despite grass and bush so thick you couldn’t see 5 feet. One morning we creeped, unbeknownst to us, within 10 steps of a large bull that was bedded in a deep impression at the end of a bush chocked field. That was a bit unnerving. We tracked him and a buddy across two other fields where they came to bed up again in another dense draw. We let them settle down and walked back in a couple hours later. Again, we flushed them, but no clear shot presented itself. I mentioned to York that I did not enjoy this buffalo wing shooting technique and that perhaps we could skip that part.

We are headed to lunch when the trackers spot fresh buff tracks in the road. They are headed down the valley, toward water. We drive up another road and confirm, they are still headed west. The decision is to have lunch, give some time for the still swirling wind to get right and we’ll follow up early afternoon.
 
During yesterday's 7 hour, less than fulfilling stalk on the bulls that never stopped, I had intended to post a short clip of the bush we were traversing through at times. Appie PH manned the cam for a few minutes.


We found one, really old snare in the thick stuff. The tree had already grown around the wire. We found only find one other old snare later in the trip if you don't count the 100's of string Guinea fowl snares we found one day at lunch along the lake sore, They were fresh.
 
After a brief rest, we head back to the area we left off earlier. Wind isn’t great but it is more consistent. The party is loaded with all necessities; a PH, a hunter, two buffalo rated rifles, set of sticks, some back up ammo, tracker, apprentice PH, and local game ranger. It’s a wonder we get anywhere unnoticed . York comments it’s Zvito’s birthday (40). I happily retort that "We shall kill a bull in Zvito’s honor".

Approximately a half mile into our rather leisurely stroll, we hear a buff cough. Then some other general buff noises. The herd is less than 200 yards in front of us. A wind check determines we should slide right and up a large koppe. The wind should be sucking up the mountain side in these early afternoon hours. We use this in our favor. The climb is slightly more vertical than I would have hoped. The small rocks hidden by the grass are adding an extra level of FUN to the climb. About halfway up, the tracker looks back at me and decides to offer his gun toting services again. I gladly accept.

We eventually make the crest of the hill without injury and most of our breathe still intact. I speak for myself as I’m not sure how these other rookies fared. Pieces of the herd are visible in the valley below. York sees more already ahead of us. Plan- bail off this koppe and up and around a second, albeit shorter one, to the west. Could have been a worse plan I suppose. Down and up again. I do opt for a short breather on top of this one, but much more for the benefit of the troupe than mine as I know they’d be too embarrassed to ask for one. A couple deep breathes and back to work. We are able to slip around the corner. The herd is much closer, although we are not as high as our first perch.

We butt slide down the hill to get a better look over the bench we are on. The main group stays back. Finally reaching a small tree, we are able to stand. Binos go up. York identifies an old bull, really old. He is rather narrow and admittedly I decide to pass based more on horn than age. Yes, I’ll take my punishment now, but this wasn’t the bull I’d come to Zim. A few buff wander in and out of sight. York mentions that he sees a lioness in the back, trailing the herd. Kitty is not helping us.

A second bull comes through and looks decent but a tad young. Cows and calves are mixed in and a few old cows to the south are really honing in on something they really don’t like. Likely Shumba. Please don’t send the herd for the hills as we are this close! We are starting to lose light in the valley. I spot a bull I’m fairly certain was the younger one from earlier, but something inside causes me to ask York about him. I’m waiting for the “same one as earlier/young bull” utterance. I’m not expecting, “I’m 90% sure we are going to shoot this one” response. We’ve been standing on the hillside for well over 30 minutes. My feet are pointed straight downhill. It’s getting rather uncomfortable and now I need to get mentally prepared for a shot opportunity. Why do my feet hurt so bad right now? The bull is feeding directly toward us. I’ve got a solid rest on the sticks but no shot. The bull is feeding brutally slow, and the light continues to fade. The cows are still on high alert. “It’s not going to work” crosses my mind several times, and if it does, I wish sooner than later as my feet are now numb.

 
My PH replied the fruit was " Masau" .


There were locals also drying the fruit. It can be used for wine. We did run across a fellow or two that might have been delirious on the local maize beer too :D Cheers:
 
I'm sorry for the generally bad camera work. I'm self filming this adventure. Spoiler alert- there are no kill shots on video. I also noticed we didn't take as many pictures as normal for whatever reason and my video is mostly what I have of a recorded history of the trip. I'm getting close to action soon I promise :)
 
Great stuff, eagerly watching for more.
 
A cow crosses in front of our bull headed back from where the herd came. She takes him with her. She crosses a nice opening in the bush. He goes behind her. She feeds up the ridge. He feeds behind it. I have the 5x scope cranked to gather as much light as possible. I’m wishing I had 12x about now. He is suddenly back on our side of the ridge. Two more steps. I confirm with York we are looking at the same bull. Yes. I’m ready to shoot. “Let it rip”, he replies but not before confirming I’m steady. As good as it’s going to get. The report on the .416 buffalo poison machine knocks me back but I never lose sight of the bull. Awful big puff of dust got kicked off him. York looks at me, me at him. It should be solid I retort. The group has now joined us from over the crest of the koppe. Lots of nodding in the affirmative to a solid sounding hit. Zvito reenacts a front shoulder hit.

I’m not nervous. I’m not shaking. Excited yes. Unsure of the shot, yes. Concerned for the group, yes. We barely drop off the hill and Zvito takes a hard right. Can’t be there yet, he wasn’t this close. Where’s the 30’ tree he was standing beside? The 30’ is reduced to a 10’ sapling and the 130 yd shot, more like 90 across the valley floor. Well, that is certainly surprising. Zvito is already on the track, making hand signals about where the bull has gone. Brief interlude here. Do they really always know what the animal is going to do next? I suspect most always they do, but I can’t help to wonder if all the scenes they play out aren’t more of an active imagination :D . One SMALL drop of blood. I know this is weird timing but only two things cross my mind. “Wow, not a lot of blood” and “He is my bull now for the good or bad of it”. Twenty more yards and another drop of blood. The search party closes rank and tightens up. York and I are out front. Zvito is tracking and at the same time scanning ahead. Appie PH and Wildlife Ranger protect our rear. Light continues to fade. The mass is shuffling in unison. At least my heart is pumping now. We come across a large pool of obvious lung blood. Zvito is acting out Scene Three, the bull blowing blood from his nose and mouth.

I’m not exactly sure who laid eyes on the bull first, but both York and Zvito began making furious gestures for me to step forward and shoot. The one with the grey sides in the dry wash. I’ve remembered to lower scope back to 1.5x. No rookie here . I shoot for center mass as the bull turns up the draw. It was the only shot I had. York takes us to the nearest high ground. I send two more toward the bull now angling our direction but less a charge, than him just trying to find a way up out of the gully I think. The third shot stops him, and he swaps ends, heading back 180 degrees. I’m now empty and tell York to shoot if he can to which he obliges.

It’s amazingly calm now in the chaos. The bull is down but not completely out. We hear other buffalo off to our left, but it’s quiet somehow. Almost relaxing. I can’t explain it. Everyone has paused. For a minute or two it’s as if we are assessing the scene, replaying what just unfolded. The silence is broken by the bellow. What every buffalo hunter wants to hear. The sun has now fallen below the horizon. We slip up and admire the warrior at our feet. Nothing but admiration for the beast.

Within 15 minutes the camp firewood crew, that was in the general area, has now arrived and they are blazing a trail to the dry wash. Congratulatory handshakes, a few pics, documentation for Appie PH’s log and we are ready to head to camp but not before a Zambezi beer or two. I’m officially a buffalo hunter!

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As we are standing around waiting on the loading crew I quipped to Appie PH Heath (pictured above) that there was a 40”+ cow in that herd, did he see her? . York advised “Yeah, there were at least two, one maybe 42”+”.
 
Great buff, congrats!
 
Great Bull!! Congratulations!!
 
Well done! Thanks for sharing the hunt with us.
 

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Looking to buy a 375 H&H or .416 Rem Mag if anyone has anything they want to let go of
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Nice Z, 1975 ?
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I know you're some distance from Vegas - but would be keen to catch up if it works out.

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Hello, I have giraffe leg bones similarly carved as well as elephant tusks which came out of the Congo in the mid-sixties
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