Days 19-21
Funny how it’s never easy to get from one place to another, even when they aren’t that far apart. We flew from Kimberley to Jo’burg, spent a very enjoyable evening at AfricaSky Guesthouse, then flew to Bulawayo. Had to spend a night in Bulawayo because of the timing of flights, but on day 21, we loaded up Dean’s truck with our gear and our two Zimbabwean trackers, and we were off to the Three Ways safari area in southern Zimbabwe, not far from the Limpopo and the South African border.
We arrived in camp late in the afternoon. Driving long distances in Zimbabwe is always interesting – how many roadblocks will there be? Will you get asked for firearms permits? Will you be delayed or will they let you through? How much will all this cost? In this instance we hit about a half-dozen road blocks, but weren’t held up at any. Not sure what this system is about . . . he said a bit naively.
Camp was very comfortable, and we quickly settled in, and sighted in the rifles. Both the .404 and the .300 would hopefully see some action here.
Day 22
Early the next morning we left camp to drive to a nearby property and meet Jan, a Zimbabwean farmer who maintains reasonable relations with a large group of squatters who have moved onto his, and others’, lands. Jan and his brother had been scouting some stretches of river which had not yet dried up on nearby communal lands. Jan’s brother had seen an old hippo that had clearly lost more than one fight, and looked pretty rough. Apparently a large patch of skin on its face was missing. This was the hippo we decided to look for.
I had wanted to try to look for a hippo on land, but that plan was on life support as a result of the tick bite fever – I just didn’t have the stamina to spend days walking along rocky and brushy riverbanks. But getting an old hippo would be a great second choice, if we could find this fellow.
After driving through an area that resembled nothing more than a moonscape as a result of over-grazing, we arrived at the riverbank. We got out of the trucks, and, accompanied by someone called an “environmental monitor” from the local community, we began to walk down the steep riverbank to what remained of the river below. Within minutes large numbers of people began to come out of the trees and started coming down to the river as well. I asked what was going on, and was told that these people wanted to get some meat from whatever it was I shot. I was tired and probably a bit short of patience, so I told Dean and Jan that there was no way I could – or would - shoot with people all over, and I doubted any hippo would stick around anyway with so many people hanging about. After much yelling – at our monitor and by him at the villagers – the people seemed to leave. Dean told me though that I shouldn’t be under any illusions – they hadn’t gone anywhere, and as soon as we shot something, they’d reappear in no time.
Jan made sure I had a bullet in the chamber (safety on), and we discussed what would happen if we came across a hippo on land. That understood, and seemingly alone again, we began to walk slowly along the riverbanks and along channels, almost always in tall reeds. Visibility was measured in feet. I was, for a moment, happy not to be walking in the thorns which seem to be ever-present in Africa, but that joy was short-lived. I quickly discovered that hit the wrong way, the reeds could inflict some shallow but pretty annoying cuts on bare legs and arms. And the humidity, especially after the dryness of South Africa, was also proving to be a challenge. And lastly, walking in sand presents its own challenges to old-man legs. But none of this seemed to deter Jan and Dean, so I didn’t whine, and on we went, for some hours.
It was now getting close to lunchtime, and we’d seen no hippos, though we had seen lots of tracks. We stopped in the open along the riverbank for a bit of a rest and a discussion of what our plan should be. It was possible that the hippo we were looking for had left the area – lots of people had told us they had seen him, but none in the last couple of days. Jan decided he would send the environmental monitor and the village headman (who we had picked up when we had to yell at the villagers) down river, while we would go up river, to cover more ground. As soon as that decision was taken, Moffat, one of Dean’s trackers, whispered “hippo”. We all looked at him, and then to where he was pointing – some half a kilometre up river, it seemed.
All I could see were rocks in a river channel, and at first that’s what we all saw. I will say that we all doubted Moffat had seen anything, because none of us saw anything resembling a hippo. And then, if you watched carefully through binos (which Moffat didn’t have), you could see that some of the rocks were moving – the nose and head of a hippo moving slowly down river towards us. I have long since stopped being surprised by the eyesight of African trackers, and their ability to see things that even with binoculars I have trouble seeing, but this was a feat indeed.
We quickly moved into some trees, and promptly lost sight of the hippo. It took a few minutes to see him again, and he was, in fact, moving towards us, although very slowly. We hoped that if we were patient, and a bit lucky, he would eventually come close enough that we could see if he was a male, and in particular if he was the male I was looking for. We didn’t have to shoot a male – we could take a female – but I didn’t want to shoot a female, and by now I really wanted the old, beaten up warrior I’d been told about. Having said that, I was tired, and it was hot, and this was the only hippo we’d seen. I’m self-aware enough to know that in those circumstances I could easily shoot an animal I’d later regret, just from fatigue and impatience. It was important to stay disciplined. Fortunately, Dean knows me well enough not to let me shoot something he felt I wouldn’t be happy with later.
So patient we were, and over time, the hippo came ever closer to us, though (luckily) on the other side of the channel from where we were. Surprisingly, at least to me, he eventually come to rest almost directly opposite us, standing half in and half out of the water on what we later found was a sandbar. Dean and Jan moved a bit farther forward from where we were hiding, and stared at him through their binos for what seemed like an eternity. They slowly crawled back to me, and told me that they thought it was a male, but couldn’t be 100% sure. Equally, they couldn’t be sure that it was the hippo that had been fighting. It had plenty of scars, but they couldn’t see the right side of the face. At this point, I will admit to some frustration, and said why don’t we just take him (or her). Hunting when you don’t feel well probably isn’t the best idea, but sometimes . . .
Dean said not to get excited, they had a plan. Jan would go around to the island and come at the hippo from the other side, which would tell us definitively if it was the battler we were looking for. So off he went with the monitor, leaving me to sit in some trees on a river bank, worried that the hippo I had waited some years for was going to get up and leave.
After about 20 minutes of less-than-patient waiting, I saw Jan looking out from some bushes on the island, on the right side of the hippo. He stepped out of the trees a bit, moving very slowly, but still, it was enough to get me worried all over again – surely the hippo would see him? But the hippo seemed comfortable – he hadn’t moved since he first settled into his position on the shore of the island. I saw Jan give the thumbs up sign, so I told Dean we were on. But if you can believe it, Dean hadn’t seen the thumbs up, and wasn’t sure he was going to rely on me! Frustration is by now boiling over – we have no way of asking Jan for another thumbs up, and Jan saw me, so he thinks we’re a go.
I finally convince Dean that I saw what I saw, and he moves out slowly and sets up the shooting sticks. Once they’re up, I come out slowly, and even more slowly put my rifle on the sticks. We’re partially hidden by tall reeds, which I’ll have to shoot through, but I’m still more than a bit surprised the hippo doesn’t seem to be aware of our presence. He’s about 80 yards away, staring straight ahead, and we’re looking at him from his left side. Dean quietly talks me through the point of aim, which we’d discussed in advance (and I'd refreshed myself with The Perfect Shot Mini Edition) – this is going to be a side brain shot with a .404 Jeffery soft point. I get steady, focus on the spot about half way between the eye “hump” and the ear, and slowly exhale. Once my breath is out, I slowly squeeze the trigger, and the gun goes off. I see him move with the shot – but not much. And then he settles down again, almost in the same position. I quickly reload. Dean and I look at each other, and Dean tells me he thinks it’s dead. Surely there should be more movement than what we saw – but I feel certain I got him where I wanted to, so it at least seems plausible that he’s dead.
After a few minutes without movement, Jan starts to move out from the bushes on the island, slowly, towards the hippo. When he’s about 10 feet away he kicks some sand towards the animal, but it doesn’t move. He gets closer, and eventually pokes it in the eye with his gun, and gives me another thumbs up, accompanied by a big smile this time. Dean sees this thumbs up. Finally. I couldn’t help but point out that it was a very similar thumbs up to the one he missed when he hadn’t been looking! Fortunately (for me), I think he felt sorry for me because of the fever, or I think I’d have had to swim across the channel to my hippo!
As predicted, people began to come out of the trees, and now I wanted to get to my trophy before everyone else did, so we quickly walked upriver, took the boots off, walked across the channel and along the banks of the island to the hippo. A big animal, bigger than I expected. And on the right side of his face, the skin on his nose is torn off, and in fact the right tusk is almost poking through. Once we get him out of the water, with some ropes and the help of lots of villagers (including some pregnant women!), we can see that he’s been pretty badly beaten up. Apart from the torn nose, he has fresh cuts more than an inch deep on his rear end and especially on his back legs. More cuts on his side, again down to the flesh. And the reason he didn’t see us – his left eye was pretty much gone. He would have been blind on that side. This animal would have been in pain, which might explain his position half out of the water. Oh, and the shot was perfect! The bullet was still in the head, so I imagine it did a whole bunch of damage in there.
I am immensely satisfied with the day's work, and with my trophy. Fortunately, since I have very little energy left, the villagers and our trackers are more than happy to skin him in exchange for meat. All I have to do, it seems, is cut off the tail and throw it into the river. Apparently this will guarantee rain. From what I can see, if it does, it’s been a long time since a hippo was killed in this area!
I get the tail cutting done, and throw it into the river. Jan asks if that’s the farthest I can throw, and I say yes, it is, today. Unless he’d like me to try with smart-ass people?
Once we get this ceremony done, the headman asks if we’d like to shoot a croc which has been eating their goats and sheep as they come to the water. Jan tells him that if he leaves some guts on the riverbank, we can come back tomorrow and see if the croc has come to feed. That business taken care of, we load up the hippo head and skin, as well as a hindquarter, which we will deliver to the local headman. Oh, and before we set off, we all get a cold drink from the cooler box. About a mile down the road, the environmental monitor sends his empty coke can flying out the window. Africa.
