MOZAMBIQUE: Coutada 11 with Zambeze Delta Safaris

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Zambeze Delta Safaris – June 2025 Hunting Trip

In December of 2023, we confirmed that we would like to secure dates and pay deposits to come and hunt in Coutada 11, in the zambezi delta on the east coast of Mozambique.

Having done extensive research into locations and outfitters we were finally in a position to lock in dates and move forward with our first African hunting trip. I’ve been fortunate enough to have been on several African photo safaris, primarily in South Africa, in addition to trips to a few other southern and eastern African countries. My travelling and hunting companions Nick and Ted would be making their first trip to Africa and jumping into the figurative deep end – hunting wild, free ranging, unfenced cape buffalo in the swamps and forests of Coutada 11, along with some select plains game. My Dad, a South African born safari tragic, would accompany us as an observer for the first 5 days.

We chose ZDS and Coutada 11 for a number of reasons – the remoteness, variety of habitat and for want of a better term, “wildness” were big factors. Just as important were the conservation benefits and the history and importance of ZDS as an outfitter creating a win/win/win for hunters, for the landscape and animals themselves, and for the local communities that benefit from and who’s lives are dramatically enhanced by the conservation of the wild landscape and wild animals found in Coutada 11.

Having dates locked in, we began 18 months or so of further research, reading, youtube videos and general excitement as we awaited our trip. There is no shortage of literature on Africa and African hunting, and I dived into all the books and podcasts I could find.

As the months passed, I tried my best to get plenty of practice with both the rifle and bow. My intention was to bowhunt as much as possible, really to prolong the hunting experience as much as I could, however as an admittedly inexperienced bowhunter I had made a promise to my wife that I would hunt buffalo with a rifle. I bought myself some shooting sticks and was able to use them to shoot a couple of deer for the freezer on some of the properties I hunt around home.

We booked flights. ZDS was great in ensuring we had all the paperwork we needed to travel to Mozambique in addition to a comprehensive gear list. A visit to the doctor for malaria medication and vaccines. Last minute amazon purchases to make sure everything was in order.

Eventually, it was time to head off. We all assembled in Johannesburg where we would overnight before a flight the next morning to Beira in Mozambique with Airlink.

We stayed at AfricaSky boutique hotel for the overnight on the recommendation of ZDS, and I thought it was a good option. Very friendly staff, excellent airport pickup/drop off and a delicious dinner and breakfast included with the room. If you aren’t travelling with firearms you could probably get away with one of the cheaper accommodation options at the airport, but when you include the meals AfricaSky is fair value and I think if you’ve got rifles then it’s a no-brainer.

I decided the hassle of taking a rifle through all these countries wasn’t worth it and left my .375 at home, opting to rent a rifle on the hunt and taking my bow with me instead. Nick and Ted however brought their rifles with them and I believe AfricaSky’s rifle assistance at customs was excellent value. Everything went smoothly and when, upon arrival in South Africa one of the forms required was missing, the situation was resolved quickly and with no issues thanks to the cool assistance of Gilbert from AfricaSky.

It was great to meet up with everyone and after a quick beer and a bite to eat, we headed off to bed and were up early and off to the airport to catch our flight to Beira. Once again Gilbert appeared to help Nick and Teddy check in the rifles. Everything went smoothly and we arrived in Beira on time, joined by some other guests that would be staying at ZDS’ tented camp. Arriving at Mozambique customs, the local officer simply walked off with my passport, reappeared without said passport, and began promptly addressing the person standing after me in line.

While slightly disconcerting, I was then immediately met by the welcome crew from ZDS. It included Mark Haldane, and two other helicopter pilots who would be flying everyone out, along with local meet-and-greet expert Jamie and two of his local helpers. Everything went as planned, if slowly, and in due course I got my luggage, handed it over to the kind people from ZDS, successfully recovered my passport, which now had a visa for Mozambique, and we bundled into the helicopter with Mark to fly out to the concession.

Flying out was a great experience. Immediately surrounding Beira, the land is cleared and relatively heavily populated, used for subsistence farming. The further out we got, the forest cover increased steadily and signs of human inhabitation became rarer and rarer, however there was not an animal or bird in sight. We flew over a river and Mark announced that we were now flying over hunting concessions. Steadily the game numbers increased. The forest is generally quite dense, with large circular openings around permanent water dotted here and there, called pans. The pans are filled with grasses of varying height, and attract animals to come out of the heavy cover and feed, especially in the mornings and evenings. As we flew over the hunting concessions, we saw concentrations of sable, nyala and hartebeest primarily in addition to a variety of other game. Nick sat in front with Mark and quizzed him on everything from helicopters to leopard hunting and it was great to sit in the back, watch the land pass by and listen to the conversation.

We arrived in the afternoon, met our PHs and got settled in to camp. I would be hunting with Hamish, a PH who had joined ZDS that year. As some of the first hunters for the season, I would be Hamish’s first ever client in Coutada 11. With the outfit’s main tented camp, Mungari, occupied by a larger group we would be staying on the other side of the airstrip at Ngazi. Ngazi is a smaller camp that can accommodate up to four guests, consisting of old Portuguese cement hunting huts. We had the smaller camp to ourselves and got familiar with the dining hall, firepit, and our rooms. It was a lovely area, surrounded by trees with the odd duiker and warthog cruising through.

The camp managers welcomed us, ran through the key logistics and ensured we had everything we needed. We settled in and, given the aging day it was decided that we would relax for the rest of the afternoon and Nick and Ted would check their rifles in the morning. We were also introduced to Delta – an orphan cheetah cub currently under the care of the wildlife biologists in camp. She was, of course, adorable although her habit of attacking the ankles of passers-by may outstay its welcome as she get bigger.

Hamish set up some foam targets in camp and I flung a few arrows. He seemed reasonably satisfied after a few looseners from me and declared us ready to go. We then assembled round the fire for a beer or two before heading into the dining area for dinner (portuguese style chicken). The camp manager noted that due to the early season she was short of meat – a situation that has soon rectified after a couple of days of hard hunting from our group and the other over at the tented camp.

General Thoughts

For those interested, I’ll detail a day-by-day account of the trip below, however thought I would give some high level and general thoughts at the front for those in search of (relative) brevity. The trip had many highlights, the key one was simply spending time immersed in the African bush. I hope this will largely come through in the more detail recounting.

I had a great time. The service of the outfit was excellent, the accommodation and food was brilliant, and the landscape and game was great. Additionally, we got to meet some incredibly interesting characters.

Conservation

One such person was the full time wildlife biologist. He has been with Coutada 11 for years, and could speak with great knowledge on the landscape and biodiversity. He noted prey species had done brilliantly since the outfit took over in the 90s. He estimated the land was at 70% capacity with the area holding some 41,000 waterbuck, 30,000 buffalo and 5,000 sable. His view was that the predators were lagging behind this somewhat. While the lion population was growing robustly, cheetah, leopard and hyena populations, while in existence, had not quite met the materiality threshold they needed for significant population growth. With the help of selective introductions these populations were slowly approaching those levels.

On that subject, our time with ZDS coincided with the release of five hyenas on our second day, scheduled to be immediately followed by the introduction and then ultimate release of two new male lions to add to the genetic diversity of the respective local populations.

Despite the intention to hold the lions in the captive boma for a period of time to familiarise them with the area, the lions promptly “self-released” themselves by breaking out of the enclosure. People were told not to go walking in that general area as there was one very irate lion, staying close to the boma as he waiting for his brother to join him. Before long they had both expedited their release and at the time of our departure, were doing well.

Rounding out conservation, I note that pangolins are apparently the world’s most trafficked animal, with their scales used in various forms of traditional medicine. I can understand why they are so trafficked, as once found the act of capturing the animal itself amounts to walking over to it and picking it up. Certainly, if I were a poacher, armed with primitive or unreliable weapons and given the choice of poaching a lion, elephant, rhino or pangolin, well it would be a very easy choice that would see the scaly little fellow promptly stuffed into a sack. Accordingly, the biologists at ZDS were tracking the pangolins in the area and there was a reward for any PH that captured one and brought it back to the camp to have a GPS tracker affixed. We came across one in interesting circumstances as I will outline in the detailed section.

Leopard Hunting

Another interesting person we happened to cross paths with a gentleman who travels southern Africa with his pack of dogs, chasing leopards either for hunting, or darting and research purposes. Especially in game-rich areas like Coutada 11 it can be very difficult to get a leopard to come into a bait, so instead a section of sandy road is graded and then driven at night in search of leopard tracks in the new road. Once found the hounds are released with a view to running down the leopard, ultimately chasing it up a tree where it is either shot, darted or left alone. Sometimes the leopard positions themselves in a tree in a way in which it is impossible to get a shot off – this elicited a string of great stories around increasingly desperate tactics to try and get the leopard to reposition in the tree. Strategies included climbing a neighbouring tree and throwing pebbles at it, and going up and shaking the trunk of the tree in question. Of course sometimes the leopard decides to leave the tree altogether, which can be a fairly nerve-wracking experience in and of itself as the harrassed leopard makes its way past the encircling dogs and people.

Campfire Stories

In general, there were some brilliant stories shared round the campfire and dinner table. Rabid puppies, 3d printed suppressors, the value of a packet of biscuits, catching leopards in baboon traps, animal charges of all kinds, the old argo amphibious vehicles ZDS used take out into the swamps (“you knew for certain they were going to break down at some point, so we tried our best to make it out in one piece and then deal with the breakdown on the way back”), honey badgers stealing shoes and many more. If you spend a lifetime in the bush you’re bound to pick up some cracking stories, doubly so if that time is also spent in pursuit of dangerous game.

Sightseeing

Overall, the concession held a lot of game. Warthogs for days, and waterbuck as far as the eye can see. Wonderful nyala. Having done some photo tourism previously, from a game viewing standpoint I noted we weren’t able to see lion, leopard, hippo, elephant, crocodile or hyena. While we saw tracks, the density of the respective populations, with the exception of crocodile and hippo, and the thickness of the bush made classic game viewing difficult. This didn’t bother me in the slightest, and I enjoyed greatly knowing they were on the landscape. It was however a definite contrast to somewhere like the Kruger Park, where in my experience you can’t swing a cat without hitting an elephant, and the sound of lions roaring is a nightly occurrence. I was able to add a few new mammals to the lifetime list, namely yellow baboons, samango monkeys, a bushpig and pangolin. Where Coutada 11 was really strong however was sable, the tiny antelope, and birds.

The sable in the concession were brilliant. Having spent time in a number of other wildlife locations where sable were either extirpated or so rare as to be essentially non-existent, seeing plentiful herds and many gorgeous bulls was wonderful. Similarly, the dense, dark forests seems to be a haven for some of the smaller antelope and the forests were awash with red duiker, blue duiker and suni which I really enjoyed. Lastly, the bird population was strong and varied and I was also able to add a few species to my lifetime list including the silvery-cheeked hornbill, grey crowned crane, green malkoha, palmnut vulture and klaas’ cuckoo. The concession also holds a very healthy population of ground hornbills and we were able to see numerous groups.

Meals

The food was great, and over the course of the trip we got to sample a wide variety of game. Hartebeest was the staple, in various forms, followed by nyala. We were also able to try buffalo tongue, bushbuck, zebra and waterbuck with the last two cooked rare over wood coals. All were delicious. A sumptuous lunch was always available at camp, and we usually took a packed lunch consisting of typically a toasted sandwich filled with stew meat and some cold chicken on the bone which allowed us to stop for a quick meal and keep hunting when out and about away from camp.

Professional Hunting

The role of a PH is interesting. They have broad and complex roles – they need to act as tour guide, entertain a foreign hunter for 10 plus days, ensure the vehicle is working, ensure their client is well fed and hydrated, along with the trackers must be an expert bushmen, they need to find game, track them, ensure the client is able to keep up but also push them enough that the whole thing is an adventure, make sure they aren't too hot or too hungry, ensure the client isn’t being too loud, bring the client in range of the client’s chosen game, set up shooting sticks, guide the client through the shot. In the event of a poor shot and wounded animal they are expected to follow the animal to the ends of the earth in hope of recovery and, in the very worst case of a charging dangerous animal, stand at the front and put their lives on the line to keep safe their clients and trackers. After all this, when standing over a successfully shot animal, they take their hat off, shake their clients hand, look the client in the eye and tell them “well done”.

My PH for the trip was Hamish. Originally from Natal in south east South Africa, Hamish had 26 years experience as a PH and had guided across southern and eastern Africa. In short, I was extremely happy with him as my PH. We had a great time chasing animals and I’m thrilled with the memories I’ve been able to bring home. Being in a brand-new location was no hindrance to Hamish as we explored the concession and got close to a bunch of game. Despite his long career in the bush, he clearly still loves the adventure and his enthusiasm across the trip was infectious.

Day by Day

Day-1

We headed out at about 7am. All the PH’s seem to drive kitted-out 79 series landcruisers, typically with a bench up high in the tray for trackers and curious clients to sit on and observe the landscape. They are, in my opinion, awesome. Having already shot my bow on the day of arrival, Hamish declared we would be heading straight out into the wilderness, while Nick and Teddy would go and check their rifles.

We were joined by my Dad for the day, along with trackers Simba and Brinko, both hailing from the local village. Hamish and I sat in the front of the bakkie, with Dad and the trackers in the seats up in the tray, scanning for game. We drove for a couple of hours, stopping to admire the duikers, nyala, sable, hartebeest and reedbuck along the way. Eventually, there was a tap on the cab from up above – Simba had seen buffalo tracks in the road. The tracks were fresh, and of a small group of likely males. We went ahead to see if they had crossed an upcoming road, and on discovering that they had not, went back to the tracks and followed them on foot. The wind started playing tricks as we approached some cover, and Brinko and Simba each climbed trees to try and get a look at the buffs within the cover with no success. With the wind allowing no approach, the decision was made to back out and keep searching with the option of returning later in the day.

On we drove, and before too long there was another tap on the cab and this time there was no doubt – we could all see a large group of buffalo feeding a few hundred yards ahead of us on the edge of a large pan. It was on! The herd were well positioned up against thick cover from which the wind was blowing. To get close to the herd without giving away our scent, we would have to approach from the much more open pan.

Now on foot, we made a large circle out into the pan, and managed to position ourselves on an anthill in the pan with some tree cover. The wind was blowing straight towards us from the herd, with an open expanse of grass and papyrus in between. The herd was some 300 strong, with some wallowing and others feeding.

Hamish determined we would need to get closer to get a better look at the herd. Leaving Simba and Dad on the termite mount with a full view of the herd, we crept forward to another termite mount with a bit of cover, some 150 odd yards from the edge of the herd. Hamish scanned the herd for suitable bulls. Quite frankly, how Hamish was able to accurately identify shootable animals is beyond me, and another testament to the skills of experienced professional hunters.

Having determined there were a couple of shooters in the herd, we settled in to wait and watch, with the hope they would feed close to us, or otherwise give us an opportunity to get closer. We probably spent an hour waiting and watching and were able to see a couple of younger bulls occasionally sparring. The herd never come towards us, and increasing numbers started bedding down. One of the target bulls, with a distinctive chipped boss, made his way to the edge of the herd closest to us, joining a number of buffalo wallowing in some open mud. This edge of the herd was directly adjacent to a stretch of papyrus swamp that ran right up to the termite mound we were occupying.

Forming a view that the herd was not coming to us, Hamish decided we were going to the herd. We piled into the papyrus, and began wading through water with depth varying from ankle to knee deep and papyrus reeds approximately up to our shoulders. The weather was hot for that time of year, over 30c and with the papyrus coming up to shoulder height and the sun overhead, there was no shade and it got quite warm.

We made our way through the swamp and got increasingly close to the herd. We could hear them quite clearly, lowing to one another, sloshing around in the mud and even just breathing. Above the tall grass, I could just see the tops of the backs of a few buffalo feeding off to our right comfortably within 50 yards or so. I must admit at that time I thought to myself “what the fuck am I doing?” as I walking through swampy reeds surrounded by very audible but not quite visible buffalo. The title of Capstick’s most famous book, Death in the Long Grass flashed through my mind. Onwards we crept.

We got to about 30 yards from the edge of the herd, and Hamish searched for one of the target bulls. The wind then decided the swirl, and the herd got our scent and in one thunderous move rumbled 30 or 40 yards up a gentle slope away from the papyrus before turning to assess the threat. A herd of some 300 buffalo staring straight at you from about 70 yards is a pretty powerful experience. A few younger bulls came forward from the edge of the herd, lifted their proud heads and stared down their noses at us. Anyone who has done any reading into African hunting will know that Robert Ruarke once described the way that a buffalo looks at you. I will just say it was certainly a unique and pretty special experience for me.

Having primarily hunted deer, where once they are bumped they can generally be considered gone for good, I assumed that as the herd decided they had had enough of us and thundered off, that was it for this opportunity. I was wrong. The herd travelled 200 yards or so and began milling around. We pulled back the way we had come, intending to circle around ahead of them. After some time however, the buffalo began filtering back to where they were when we bumped them.

We spent the next couple of hours trying various tactics but with an unforgiving wind eventually the herd ran off for good. With the hunt for this herd over, we walking out into the clearing and beckoned for Dad and Simba to emerge from hiding. Dad described it as 4.5 hours of sheer boredom followed by 3 minutes of sheer terror as, at the last, it looked like we would bump the herd directly towards Dad and Simba and their anthill.

Hamish was relaxed, as he was confident there was a large enough tree on the anthill for the guys to stand behind for cover in the event of stampeding buffalo. Dad, on the basis that he had had 4.5 hours to examine that very tree as he waited on the anthill, was firmly of the view that the tree would not have been sufficient barrier between him and a rampaging nyati. His other observation was that it was remarkable to see hundreds of oxpeckers take flight above the herd when it moved. I must admit, in the excitement and anxiety of my first buffalo hunt, I did not notice a single oxpecker at any time.

Having spent the better part of 5 hours or so chasing the herd, we drove off, hoping to see something with enough time to put in a stalk before the sun went down. At about 3:30, another tap on the roof, and again we could see the backs of a smaller herd of buffalo, feedings in a long, wide, mostly dry riverbed filled with long grass and swampy ground.

We crossed the riverbed well above the herd to get the wind right for the approach. We snuck in, and Hamish was able to glass the buffalo. We had a small breeding herd of some 30 animals, with one old shootable bull at the back.

We hustled to get closer and position for a shot. We got to within about 45 yards of the herd, where we would set up and wait for the bull to present himself. No sooner had we arrived in position, when a baboon started making aggressive alarm call, disturbing the herd which ran off down the riverbed. Hamish was up and after them in a flash, and we walked at a brisk pace through the cover on the edge of the riverbed. We eventually caught up with the herd, and began to creep in for a second time, when a reedbuck busted us. This was more than enough for the buffalo, who ran further down the riverbed, and out of our lives.

At this point, the sun was low in the sky and Hamish called it a day. I was tired, my feet were soaked from bashing through papyrus, legs scratched from bashing through thickets, and had chased buffalo on foot for about 6 hours all told. I was to discover that today included a rare luxury when hunting with Hamish – I had not had to crawl. But that’s for later.

We cruised back to camp as the sun set, and arrived in the dark. Nick and Teddy had checked their rifles and then cruised most of the day, each shooting a reedbuck to feed both the camp and the hyenas awaiting release in the boma. Drinks round the fire, followed by a delicious dinner and good conversation, preceded an early bed.

Drag and drop some of your photos in here. It would be great to see the countryside you were hunting in.

Day 2

Today, Dad would spend the morning relaxing in camp and then head out with Nick in the afternoon.

Hamish and I drove around for a couple of hours, enjoying the varied animal sightings, especially the sable, and with the exception of a nice impala ram (“Any available on quota Hamish?” “No” “well then lets keep driving”) didn’t see anything that would make a suitable hunting target. At about 11, I thought to myself that maybe today would be a quiet day.

At about 11:30am however, things got interesting. Arriving at a pan and spotting some black buffalo backs on the other side, what initially looked like a dozen or so animals turned out to be the 300 strong herd from day 1, with most buffaloes bedding down in the taller grass.

We parked up and walked through the cover surrounding the pan, heading the long way around, across from the herd, to get the wind right. I ranged the pan at about 800 yards in diameter, so a bit of a stroll. Once we got in position, some 80 yards or so from the herd, the wind once again swirled and the herd got up and moved into the middle of the pan. A long way to walk only to be immediately busted, or so I thought at the time.

Not to be put off by the buffaloes catching our wind, Hamish lead us right into the pan after them. The grass here was longer than that in the pan yesterday, and I discovered that being able to very clearly hear some 300 agitated buffalo at close range but not be able to see a single one is quite a disconcerting feeling. Eventually, the herd popped out into an open patch of shallow water within the pan, and milled around looking us over through the long grass we were standing in. Hamish got his binoculars up looking for bulls, but before he could catch sight of one, the herd split off, with a small group staying in the pan but heading round the edge away from us, and the majority going straight into the closest cover.

Hamish hustled us into the cover parallel to the larger group, and one of the trackers saw them moving through the thick brush. We moved forward quickly, and managed to see the front of the herd moving through some more open woodland maybe 80 yards ahead of us. Hamish had the sticks up and I was looking through the scope at the herd moving through an opening in no time. My heart started beating as I watched them pass in front of the cross hairs, with instructions from Hamish not to shoot until he confirmed the bull.

With the herd moving at a fairly brisk pace, I was not at all confident of shooting a moving target, however the whole herd passing through the opening without one of the bulls appearing on the edge we were looking at.

Thus began a steady march through varying terrain in pursuit of the herd. From my perspective, any feelings of optimism steadily diminished as we went from catching occasionally glimpses of swishing tails as the herd moved through the brush ahead of us, to a glimpse of the herd on the other side of a pan from us as we popped out on one edge and they disappeared into the cover on the other, to only hearing the odd distant bellow.

Nevertheless, we kept walking. Fast. It was over 30 degrees and in the middle of the day. I’ll be the first to admit I’m hardly pushing the bounds of human fitness and endurance, however I do walk a lot and would consider my general fitness moderate. Based on discussions with Hamish, I think we did somewhere between around 12km in about 2 hours. Having began our stalking at about 11:30 and then set off in hot pursuit there was no prospect of lunch. By the end of it, with the decent heat level and navigating varying terrain and bush cover, I was cooked.

As it turns out however, 300 buffaloes are not especially difficult to track, and despite my misgivings Hamish, Simba and Brinko were able to keep us following the herd. Eventually, we popped out on the edge of a new pan, and could see the herd standing around on the opposite edge. Hamish noted we had a bit of time, so we stopped for a well-earned breather and a drink of water, and then worked our way through the cover on the edge of the pan, eventually crawling through to the edge of the cover closer to the herd. We got to within about 80 yards again, Hamish set the sticks up and started glassing the buffs when the wind once again proved a fickle mistress and the herd abruptly stood up, stared in our direction and then started to move away from us into the middle of the pan. At this point I was considering simply lying down and waiting to be collected either by Hamish in his bakkie or a hungry lion, whichever came first.

With the sun approaching the western horizon, Hamish decided now or never and we walked crouching single file out into the open, directly at the herd. Hamish started making moaning sounds, trying to imitate a distressed buffalo calf. Miraculously, this tactic proved effective and after pushing them back a couple of times his calling starting drawing the herd back in towards us. Hamish had me up on the sticks, and once again looked over the group with his binos, searching for one of the bulls we were after. The much shorter ankle high grass on this pan helped in the assessment. Brinko indicated there was a bull on the right edge, and after a moment of looking Hamish said “there he is, three from the end on the right”

I moved the scope over to the edge, but with the sun getting lower in the sky directly behind the buffalo all I could make out was the sun glinting off the many horns of the buffalo in front of us. Their silhouetted bodies merged into one single black mass. I told Hamish that I had no idea which one he was talking about. Hamish wasn’t phased and said to wait. So there we stood, with me intently staring at the right edge of the herd trying to pick out an individual bull, some 300 buffalo intently staring at us from a distance of 100 yards or so, and Hamish with his eyes locked on the bull while occasionally sounding like a distressed calf.

Pretty soon the edge of the herd started to mill around and spread out a little, and Hamish told me the bull was now on the edge. By confirming with Hamish every time the bull moved (“He’s looking left now” “yep” “now he’s stopped” “yep” “now he’s facing away from us” “yep”) I was able to lock onto him through the scope. At this point I had him in the sights, but he was facing directly away from us. “Wait for him to come broadside, I’ll tell you when” said Hamish. I watched and waited and eventually, he showed us his ribcage, facing to our left. “Now” said Hamish, and I pulled the trigger. The bull immediately disappeared into the herd.

Shooting off stable sticks (which are brilliant by the way), I had a very stable rest. The shot felt good and true, and I was highly confident the bullet had gone where the crosshairs were pointing. As had been made very clear to me, ideal shot placement was straight on the shoulder. In the moment, I had put the cross hairs back of the shoulder as though I was hunting deer, and I immediately said to Hamish “I’ve hit him too far back” as I chambered a fresh round. “I didn’t even hear if you hit him at all” was the response from Hamish. Having missed any reaction to the shot from the bull in the recoil of the rifle, and now staring at the milling herd, I did not feel great.

The herd finally decided it was time to leave, and began to run for the edge of the pan. As they did, a straggler emerged at the back. It took a few steps and then stood still. I quickly got the rifle sights on it, and was about to send another round its way when Hamish told me to wait. I asked if it was my bull and he confirmed it was. I kept my sights on him, and I remember the golden light of the setting sun shining on the left horn that was visible as he stood facing away from us. He started to sway and to my immense relief fell over. He had probably gone 50 yards from where he was shot.

We gave a relieved cheer, and high fives and hugs all round. Hamish then removed the quick-detach scope on the rifle, handed it back to me, reminded everyone of the age old adage that it’s the dead ones that kill you, and we began to approach the downed bull cautiously. About half way there, the buffalo gave a mournful death bellow. We got in close, checked his eye for any sign of response, and confirmed we had one buffalo down. What a day and what an adventure.

For those wondering, I was renting Hamish’s custom Musgrave .375 H&H. As awesome little gun, it had a shortened 19 inch barrel and synthetic stock. Hamish had handloaded 380 grain Stewart soft and solid point bullets. The rifle was extremely accurate and the heavy for calibre bullets had performed wonderfully. Upon examining the buff, I had hit it exactly where I thought – back of the shoulder. Fortunately however the buff was quartering away slightly and the bullet had gone through both lungs and into the offside shoulder. Hamish himself had been carrying round his double barrelled 470 which was thankfully not needed.

Photos were taken, and now we faced the task of strolling back to the bakkie, somewhere in the region of 8km away as the hamerkop flies. Hamish offered to let me relax by the buffalo while he fetched the vehicle. As I discovered however, when you shoot a buffalo you get a second wind and after taking a moment to admire the downed animal, I headed off with Hamish and Brinko, with Simba left with the buff to guard against vultures and lions.

After a much easier walk along the sand roads, we returned to the vehicle and more importantly the portable fridge in the back which contained ample supplies of both ice cold water and beer. We rumbled back to Simba and the buff, and with a bit of manoeuvring, the bull was winched whole into the back of the vehicle and we headed back to camp.

We dropped my buffalo back at the skinning shed – recovering it whole from the field meant every scrap of the animal would be used and eaten by the local community, with the only thing left the grass from within the intestines. Not a huge fan of taxidermy, (and to be frank with a long suffering and very accommodating wife who put her foot down at the prospect of any kind of shoulder mount) I would be keeping only the skull as a memento of the adventure and the incredible animal.

Back to camp for a few more beers, telling of stories, sharing of pictures, another great dinner and then off to an early bed ahead of another big day. Nick had shot a hartebeest for camp meat. Tomorrow he would be getting up very early to head out on the amphibious vehicles into the swamp proper in search of the buffalo herds out there. Hamish and I had originally planned to join them but now that I had a bull in the salt, we decided to give it a miss and instead have a slight sleep in and stay on the dry land in the concession.

The more I reflect on the experience, the more special it becomes to me. At the time, I was very much caught up in the moment, in the exhaustion and with the completion of the specific tasks in front of me. The more I think back on it, the more I can savour the effort and challenge. I can appreciate Hamish pushing me along the way to keep up with the herd. The memories of the herd standing, facing us with the sun glinting on their horns, of watching my buffalo through the scope in that late afternoon light, are cherished.

Well done, and a great write up.

Congratulations on a great trip. This makes me very excited for my hunt this coming June with ZDS. Cant wait to hear the rest of your hunt.

Great buffalo. Nice writing style. Keep it coming.

Mtn_Infantry said:

Congratulations on a great trip. This makes me very excited for my hunt this coming June with ZDS. Cant wait to hear the rest of your hunt.

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You'll have an amazing time. any specific questions - i'm an open book

Day 3

A relaxed departure with Dad in tow the next morning. Nick was long gone in search of swamp buffalo. Having headed west from camp into the sand forests and miombo woodland the previous two days, we instead headed east towards the edge of the flood plain in search of some variety in landscape. With the buffalo in the salt, the rifle was back in its bag and out came the bow. We hit the flood plain and skirted the edge in the landcruiser. The plain stretched into the horizon, and we could glass large herds of eland, hartebeest and selous zebra, along with astonishing numbers of waterbuck. We saw some huge waterbuck bulls.

Caught in a moment of excitement, I suggested to Hamish that we could put a stalk on a waterbuck if we saw a nice bull. We saw many nice bulls and before too long came across a group close enough to the cover provided by the palm forest on the edge of the floodplain. We snuck in until we got to the edge of the cover. With the waterbuck a further distance from the cover, we needed to make a plan to get closer.

Hamish whipped out his knife, cut off two palm fronts and we started crawling, each holding a frond in front of our face. We crawled on hands and needs. We lay on our sides and pushed along with one leg when the grass was shorter. We sat on our backsides and scooted forward. We crawled and crawled and crawled. We ended up crawling about 550 yards. Another hot day and a tiring endeavour.

As we got to the edge of the longer grass, within 100 yards or so of the herd, we bumped another reedbuck from about 5 paces away. It did its typical alarm call and every eye in the area was now fixed on us. Taking our time, we moved forward and got right to the edge of the long grass. While close, the waterbuck were still outside of bow range.

Somewhat mimicking yesterday’s direct tactic, Hamish took both palm fronds, held them in front of himself and we crouched behind the fronds and approached the bulls single file. The tactic was once again effective, and the waterbuck watched us with curiosity, however they would let us get to about 50 yards but no closer before moving away from us. We approached to this distance three or four times before their curiosity with this strange moving shrub diminished enough for them to run away properly.

Two hours of stalking with nothing to show for it, but an exciting morning nonetheless. As we walked back to the truck, I realised my phone was missing. I couldn’t remember if I had left it in the bakkie or not, so we kept walking in case it was safe and sound in the vehicle. It was not. Hamish was unconcerned and we retraced our steps to where we had started crawling. Fortunately, when you drag a carcass like mine through long grass it leaves a fairly clear trail and it was more or less as simple as walking along the track until Hamish recovered the errant device, safe and sound and no worse for wear.

We stopped for lunch in the shade of some trees, and after a quick bite to eat were back on the road. We cruised for a while, stopping to watch game and birds as we can across them, and began to make our way back from the floodplain. We weren’t too far back into the forest when there was a tap on the roof. We stopped and Brinko jumped down, peaked around a big anthill on the side of the road, and had a quick conversation with Hamish who had got out to join him.

Hamish hustled back to the vehicle and whispered to me “there’s a nice reedbuck, get your stuff as quickly as you can”. Now, on a full disclosure basis, when we were walking back from the waterbuck stalk both my feet ended up getting soaked in some of the wet ground on the edge of the floodplain. When we stopped for lunch, I took my shoes, sock and gaiters off and was happily sitting in the front of the vehicle day-dreaming when we stopped. Accordingly, Hamish showed an admirable amount of patience and restraint as he stood in silence and waited for me reapply my footwear, all while a nice reedbuck was waiting.

Once I was shod, and with bow in hand, I followed Hamish ten yards or so to a small gap in the forest. Hamish informed me the reedbuck we were looking at, with a low tree trunk covering his legs but with vitals exposed, was 32 yards. I dialled the range on my bow, pulled back and sent an arrow flying. I didn’t see it hit but Hamish immediately said “good shot” as the reedbuck started running. After going 40 yards or so he went down within view, and high fives all round. It was an extremely quick death, and after the long efforts and mixed success rates on stalks of the last three days, it was a stark contract to simply walk 10 paces from the vehicle and fling an arrow.

We went over to the reedbuck. The arrow had hit slightly low and gone straight through the heart and a shoulder for a full pass through. We recovered the arrow buried deep into the soil behind where the reedbuck was standing. After some photos, the reedbuck was loaded whole into the truck and on we rode. In an abundance of caution, I kept my shoes and socks on for the remainder of the day, however we didn’t see anything else that warranted getting out of the vehicle for a stalk – just enjoying driving through the bush, stopping to look at animals and winding down the day.

Right before sunset, we stopped for a couple of beers and enjoyed the scenery, before heading back to camp for the now customary drinks around the fire, followed by dinner, another drink or two back round the fire, and bed. Nick had been out in the swamps on the amphibious vehicles and had shot a really nice old buffalo bull, and Teddy had been successful in his pursuit of a zebra.

Day 4

Our patch of unseasonably warm weather had come to an end, and a couple of days of intermittent rain were scheduled. We headed off into the forest in search of nyala or bushbuck. Brinko had been co-opted to help with Teddy’ expedition out to the swamps that day, so it was just myself, Hamish and Simba. It rained fairly steadily throughout the morning, and we didn’t see much.

We hopped out of the vehicle to approach a pan on foot. Not seeing anything, we headed back to the car, and as we were getting in, Hamish glanced at the road and saw lion tracks. As we drove slowly in parallel, he studied them intently. “Two lions, very fresh. One of them is an enormous male”. It felt to me as no sooner had the words left his mouth but he was stopping the car and pulling up the handbrake, announcing we would walk a game trail that might hold nyala. All I will say is the game trail yielded no nyala, although my attention was probably more occupied with the thoughts of the fresh lion tracks we had just passed and the thick, shoulder-high grass on either side that was plenty long enough to fully conceal even the largest of lions.

At the end of the game trail we arrived at another pan. “Bushbuck”, said Simba, pointing to the opposite edge of the pan. My brief excitement was soon scuppered. “Female. No horn” he said. I proceeded to raise my 8x binoculars to scan the other side of the pan. There was indeed a bushbuck, although even with my optics I could barely see the head. The incredible eyesight of African trackers is fabled, and I was able to witness it first-hand. Had I not been there myself, I wouldn’t have believed Simba would have been able to accurately assess the bushbuck from that distance with just the naked eye.

After a couple of hours, I was daydreaming out the window of the bakkie when Hamish brought us to an abrupt stop – there was a nice nyala straight in front of us. He stood stock still staring at the vehicles as Hamish turned us around and headed back down the road we had come down, into some cover out of sight of the bull.

We started to stalk back towards the area we had seen the bull – a relative open sandy area with some nice shrubs and patches of trees for cover. Hamish had his binos up and scanning for the bull, and went into an abrupt crouch. Anyone with some hunting experience will the recognise the movement as characteristic of having laid eyes on an animal in a situation in which they could easily see you back. The bull hadn’t gone far.

Using some conveniently positioned bushes, we crept closer and closer. Eventually we got within 30 yards of the bull, having crawled the last couple of paces in and getting ready to take a kneeling shot. We remained motionless, and after a minute or so the bull resumed feeding. I started to get ready, and eventually the bull gave us a perfect broadside shot. The only problem was a palm frond directly in front of the vitals. In hindsight, I’m sure my heavy arrows and fixed blade broadheads would have punched through and into the zone no problem, but in the moment it wasn’t a shot I was prepared to take.

As I tried to reposition to get a different angle, I made some noise and the bull once again looked in our direction. Thus began 15 minutes or so of Hamish and I crouched on one side of a shrub, with the bull well within bow range but not providing a shot, and alternating between putting his head down to feed and staring in our direction. Eventually either the wind swirled or the bull caught a glimpse of us, and was out of there.

It was past 1pm by this point, so we had a quick lunch and, the rain having now cleared, set off again. Hamish announced there was a large pan where he had seen several nice nyala bulls right when he first arrived on the concession. To get there we would drive along a road beside a winding riverbed, largely dry, maybe 100 yards wide or so and filled with reeds and long grass, which he believed would hold a lot of bushbuck.

He was right, and obviously after the rain in the morning the rams were keen to get out and about. We saw three shootable bushbuck on the drive out to the pan. Each time, we would park the bakkie up and then sneak back in to try and get within shooting range. Be it the wind or just the belly high reeds, we were unsuccessful on all three.

The second bushbuck we came across was large enough for Hamish to get visibly excited. We crept into the reeds, moving slowly and eyes peeled for the ram. Suddenly, Hamish spotted him, 20 yards away on the other side of a very small waterhole within the reeds. Hamish pointed him out and with the thick reed cover, he was really just a set of horns (very nice ones it must be noted) and a pair of eyes staring right at us. Hamish and I discussed the merits of sending an arrow where we thought his vitals would be (“20 centimetres to the left, and low”) but the decision was taken out of our hands by the ram moving on.

We arrived at the pan close to sunset, and unfortunately the small group of nyala feeding in one corner were all female. We crept around the opposite edge, doing our best not to disturb them, and Hamish spotted our fourth nice bushbuck ram of the afternoon, right in the middle of the pan. While he didn’t have the longest horns, he was very old and a lovely dark brown. We started crawling in through some knee-high grass. As seemed to be the way with most of our stalks, we, along with the target bushbuck and every other animal in the pan, were alerted by a very alarmed reedbuck that persisted in jumping around us and alarm calling as we tried to sneak closer to the bushbuck.

The ram has his eyes on use from then, and as far as I could tell didn’t look away for the rest of the stalk. Nevertheless, we managed to get to about 50 yards before running out of long enough grass. We tried to melt into the ground and essentially slither forward from there however the old ram wasn’t fooled and eventually ran off.

While we had nothing to show for it in the way of downed animals, it had been a brilliant day, and we had spent plenty of time creeping through the landscape, heart in mouth as we tried to get in close enough.

We cruised back to camp for drinks, dinner and bed. Teddy was thrilled to have brought home a nice buffalo bull, which meant all three of us now had a buff in the salt. Nick had shot a nice impala in the morning and then spent the afternoon looking at nyala, none of which satisfied him or his PH as a huntable bull.

Day 5

Day five began with a drizzly morning, and Hamish taking us back down the same riverbed where we had stalked the three bushbuck the prior afternoon. Almost immediately, there was a tap on the roof – Brinko, who was back after his trip to the swamp yesterday, had spotted another nice bushbuck.

We hustled into the reeds, with eyes on the ram. As we got to 30 yards or so he hightailed it. Hamish relaxed and gave a sigh, but the trackers indicated he had stopped just on the far edge of the reedbed. With an arrow knocked, we closed to 40 yards. The ram held broadside looking right at us, with the reeds only covering his leg and belly. With no time to waste, I took a shot.

I didn’t see the hit, and the bushbuck turned and ran into the cover to his left. Hamish and the trackers were confident they had heard a hit of some kind. Hamish said we would give it 30 minutes before we went in to look. With the thick cover and patches of rain likely to make blood tracking difficult, we didn’t want to risk bumping the animal if we came up on it before it had time to expire.

After the world’s longest thirty minutes (“How long now Hamish?” “15 more minutes”…”Ok how about now?” “14” “No way it must be at least 10 minutes since I last asked” “Here look at my phone…”), we headed in, and went to where the ram was standing when I took the shot. Casting our eyes around, I saw the fletching and nock of my arrow sticking out of the bottom of a group of reeds. I called the guys and showed them the arrow – it had blood on it. I had definitely hit the ram.

We began to scan the ground in the direction the ram had taken. As the four of us spread further and further out, looking for any sign of blood, my nerves increased. Hamish gave an excited shout – he hadn’t found any blood but had found the ram, piled up not 50 yards from where it was shot. The arrow had shattered his onside shoulder and then gone through the heart. While the rain had washed away any blood trail, the ram had dropped just short of the really thick cover, and would have expired extremely quickly. What a relief.

As the day was still young and we were close to camp, we headed back to drop the ram at the skinning shed and by about 9:30am we were driving back out into the concession with one thing on our mind – nyala.

We drove up to a pan, which has an official name but which I will refer to as Martial Eagle Pan, for reasons that will become obvious. We approached on foot, and saw a medium sized herd of nyala females and a small herd of impala around the waterhole in the middle of the pan. There was also a herd of 11 sable bulls grazing on one side. We crept along the road running along one edge, and then snuck in next to a tree covered anthill to glass and enjoy the scene. It was beautiful and great to watch the game

A flash of white in the grass on the other side of the pan. “Wow” said Hamish, “a martial eagles just killed something”. Up went the binos, and we watched the eagle in question wave its wings and bob its head as it took care of whatever unlucky critter it had caught, the prey itself obscured by the grass. A family of warthogs fed to within about 16 yards of us. We stood stock still and the warthogs fed off after a while, oblivious.

After we had our fill of admiring the scene, and with no nyala bull having come out to join the females, we stealthily crept back to the vehicle, vowing to return later in the day to see if it held any bulls. Off we went again, keeping an eye out for male nyala and doing our best to soak in the African bush.

Other than a brief and unsuccessful stalk on a nice bull, we kept on driving without seeing too much else for the next couple of hours. With the afternoon wearing on, we headed via Martial Eagle Pan on our way to the pan where we had stalked the bushbuck the night before. Upon driving into sight of Martial Eagle Pan, we saw something in the region of 8 nyala bulls. I say “something in the region” as it was difficult to ascertain their exact number as they were running up the other end of the pan.

Hamish quickly reversed and parked, and we bundled out to see if they had left us with a chance of getting in shooting range. Hamish confirmed he could see some of the group milling around the far edge of the pan through his binos. We headed into the cover to circle the pan and try and get close.

On the way in, we walked past the martial eagle on its kill. The eagle flew off, and a white-headed vulture looked on curiously from a nearby tree. The eagle had killed a young nyala. The nyala’s head was clearly damaged from where the large and powerful bird had crushed the antelope’s skull with immensely strong talons. The front shoulder of the nyala had been picked clean.

Long story short, it was a doomed stalk. In addition to collecting several ticks (which Brinko and Simba helpfully removed before they could cause trouble), a group of warthogs just so happened to be making an absolute beeline for us as we tried to quietly creep through the forest. They got to within 10 paces or so before looking up and then escaping at break-neck speeds. Coming straight from the pan in question at a decent trot, most of the sounder simply altered their course by an acute angle and sprinted past us, into the forest and away from the pan. The rearmost swine, however, did a total about face and barged back into the pan in question. It caused an absolute ruckus and cleared the open area.

We bravely soldiered on in the hope that the nyala bulls had relocated further up, when we intercepted the group of 11 sable bulls, leaving the pan to head into the forest. Most of them filtered past us, and we ended up within 15 yards or so of one bulls, which was pretty cool. Eventually the wind played up and the sable ran off. With the day wearing on, Hamish decided to cut our losses and head out to the target pan before we lost any more light.

Arriving at our destination pan, we crept round the cover on the edge and popped out in the middle. No bulls, only a couple of females in one corner. Being territorial creatures, we spotted the same bushbuck ram we had stalked and crawled after the night before. With my bushbuck from the morning sitting in a big pile of salt back at camp, this fine chocolate-brown ram with nice worn down horns was safe. At least from us.

Hamish called the day, and we started walking back to the vehicle. We had left the vehicle a distance from the pan, and as we were walking down the road back Brinko clicked his fingers a couple of times. Stopping, he pointed off to our right, and after a quick glass Hamish said “that is a very nice nyala” and the hunt was back on. The bull was in a relatively open area, with plenty of cover to stalk in behind, and the wind was consistent and in our favour. The main challenge was the light, which was fading fast.

Do or die, Hamish brought us in crouching behind a shrub. 80 yards or so. I could see the large body of the bull up ahead. We lined ourselves up with another shrub between us and the bull, and made our way forwards. If we got to the shrub, we would be within range for a shot. All of a sudden, the bull took off into the cover. With the light fading fast, we had pushed the stalk a little quicker than was prudent and the bull had seen us coming in. I never got to see his horns but Hamish was of the view that this was an nyala to shoot, no questions asked.

We headed back to camp, sipping a beer and luxuriating in a fantastic bushbuck in the skinning shed and a great day hunting hard for nyala. Excited to do it all again the next day. We got back to camp. Nick had taken a very nice waterbuck with a long shot from his 300 win mag. I say this with the unabashed confidence of someone who has been on exactly one hunting safari: anyone interested in hunting waterbuck, I cannot imagine you would find a better area that Coutada 11 for huge, free ranging bulls.

Love your first set of photos you posted.

I'm not a huge swamps or vast open area fan for buff but man those forests in coutada 11, with the nyala and bushbuck in them, is something I hope to experience one day. It's a dream for me

SuperPaulMuffin said:

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A couple of good Sable, and a very nice Nyala - Thanks for posting

I also hunted with Hamish at ZDS last year. Can attest that he is a first class professional and one helluva photographer. Absolutely loved mark haldane and ZDS. Best hunt of my life! Can’t wait to return

Day 6

Back on the hunt for a nice nyala bull. With five days left of the trip, we would need to see an nyala we wanted to shoot more than we wanted to hunt for the remaining days. There are some areas in the world where, in a week of hunting you might catch one glimpse of your quarry, and have only one opportunity, at distance, to make it count. In this instance, a rifle is the way to go in my opinion. Coutada 11 is not such a place and, being largely spoilt by the amount of game, bringing a bow really allowed me to hunt more than I would have if I was carrying a rifle, which I could have used comfortably at much greater distances.

Throughout the day, we saw many, many nyala including a couple worth shooting. We put in a number of stalks, however to relieve you of your suspense, we didn’t get in a position to take a shot. While disappointing, it also worked perfectly as it meant we got to come back and try again the next day.

We were driving along and saw a bull on our right, 50 yards or so away just on the edge of the forest. Hamish didn’t even bother with the binos, he just stopped the vehicle and we all piled out. I took that as a good sign that this was a fine specimen and we would be shooting him if we could. We never saw that bull again, but we snuck into the forest to try and find him. Hamish ducked into a quick crouch as he spotted two other bulls, feeding right towards us. We took cover on one side of a termite mound, and waited for them to come past.

With the thick cover, and the angle they were heading, we assumed they had moved past us on the other side of some very thick bush without being seen. Stepping out from behind the mound to take a look, we walked into full view of the bulls. The nyala had altered their course and, had we but waited by the mound, we would have had a shot from decent cover at about 10 yards. That’s hunting.

On we drove, checking pan after pan. At one pan, we once again saw Brinko’s tree climbing ability, as he hopped up high and took a look over the long grass, with nothing in sight. We drove past a succession of pans that had nice nyala bulls, in good positions to put in a stalk with a bow. Nice, but not nice enough according to Hamish. So we kept on driving.

So the day went. As we headed back home, driving down the main road back to camp through the sand forest, another tap on the roof had Hamish out and glassing into the forest in the dusk gloom. He indicated to grab my bow, and we snuck in. According to Hamish, a huge bull, perhaps the biggest we’d seen so far on the trip. We crept into the forest, but found only tracks in the fading light.

Back to camp, and Teddy had shot a very respectable waterbuck.

Day 7

We loaded up and headed out for another day, with nyala on our mind. As we drove down the main road through the forest, we saw a nice bull crossing the road ahead. We hopped out and snuck down the road after it. We appeared round a slight bend to find the bull feeding right on the edge of the road, and unfortunately facing us directly. It startled, and after a brief window in which it stopped and stared at us, headed off into the forest.

We saw two other nice bulls on that same initial drive through the forest however once we’d dismounted from the vehicle, in both instances they were long gone, or had moved into denser forest where following quietly would have been impossible.

We went back to Martial Eagle Pan. Hamish decided to approach on foot, and we walked in to find the pan empty. We then walked a ring around the pan through the cover surrounding it, hoping to come across a bull making its way out to feed. We didn’t see anything but for a few reedbuck, and made it back to the car. As we started up and began to drive down the road along the pan, the truck startled a group of nyala, including a nice bull, that had come out to feed while we were walking and had obviously missed us as we circled.

We checked a couple more pans, before heading back the way we had come as we would be leaving that area at lunch time and heading elsewhere. This time, as we drove the road that would take us past Martial Eagle Pan, we stopped well ahead of the opening and moved in on foot.

Hamish, in the front, peeked over the pan with his binos. He stood straight with excitement and indicated he could see the white ridges of hair that run down the backs of nyala bulls. We were on. A quick walk through the forest around the pan and we were in line with the antelope. Likely the same 8 or so bulls from a day or two ago, along with 30 odd females.

We came to the edge of the cover. Directly in front of us was a sand road, and on the other side two tree covered anthills perhaps 60 yards from one another, before the pan opened up properly. In between the anthills was a patch of knee-high grass.

With the feeding nyala spread out across the pan, we crawled across the road, and round the left hand termite mound till we were positioned just in front of it, in some knee-high grass and facing the pan. A small group of females with a young bull fed about 45 yards to our left, and we hoped to intercept a decent bull currently on our right and working his way over to join the group on the left. Before the bull could get into range in front of us however, the group to our left moved across our face to meet him and collectively all the nyala moved off towards to larger group feeding over to our right.

With the rain continuing to drizzle, we crawled back round the termite mound and started crawling along the sand road back towards the other termite mound. It seemed our luck turned, and a couple of very nice bulls started to feed straight towards us. They were on a course to come between the two termite mounds, and would have given us a good shot opportunity. As we had already observed however, after coming a ways towards us, the bulls gave an about face and started feeding away from us again.

As soon as their backs were turned, Hamish led us in a crawl in between the anthills straight towards the bulls. Once we got off the sand road, we were able to get back into the knee high grass and make our way towards the group. I went to nock an arrow, but the crawling, the rain and the sand road had conspired to fill the nock of the first arrow with wet soil, so I hurriedly replaced it and selected another. We got to 40 yards, Hamish noted the bull to target. We were ready to take a shot but the bull in question was facing directly away from us. It would feed away from us, and we would scootch a little further forward to get back in range, although we would soon run out of longer grass and if any of the animals in the pan turned in our direction, would stick out like sore thumbs.

Eventually, the bull turned slightly to his left, offering a steeply quartering away shot. I attached my release, which had also been filled with soil from the crawl and took some fiddling, and then rose up on my knees. Aiming for the brighter stripe on the body of the nyala that Hamish indicated, I took the shot. It was not a good one. “I think you hit it in the neck” was Hamish’s comment. The bull was himself unsure what had happened, and after taking a few steps turned and gave us a classic broadside shot at about 50 yards as he tried to get a better look at us as we crouched in the longer grass with the drizzle coming down.

I hustled to get another arrow nocked, but when I went to pull back my dirt-packed release was not properly attached to the string so with the slightest pressure it slipped off. The nocked arrow dived dishearteningly off the string. I grabbed it to reattach it, but the razor sharp broadhead had burrowed into the ground and the additional fiddling this caused just took too much time and my bull, along with the rest of the nyala, began to move away across the pan.

Hamish whistled for Simba and Brinko, who came out of the forest bearing the back-up rifle and shooting sticks. Having had a chance with the bow, I was all too happy to turn to the rifle in order to put the wounded animal out of its misery as soon as possible. Hamish got me set up for the follow up shot and identified the right bull. “Don’t just shoot” said Hamish, as I proceeding to do just that and flung a bullet at the still moving nyala. Hamish told me to wait until he was standing still, and thankfully he did just that, twice, and I took two further shots. Unfortunately, all three were misses. Hamish later outlined the problem - using Hamish’s .375 with the heavy for calibre bullets, I was not accounting for the bullet drop. At a good distance past 200m the bullet would have dropped significantly and required a much higher hold than I had estimated.

We watched the bulls continue to leave the pan, and a bit of good fortune saw them bed down in some long grass on the other side of the pan, their heads and horns visible. Unsure of how badly the bull had been hit, we worked round the edge of the pan towards them. As we were moving, Hamish exclaimed “A pangolin!” As mentioned, there was a reward for any PH that brought a pangolin back to camp, and one was standing directly in front of us.

Hamish, Simba and Brinko held a brief, hushed argument as to who would need to carry the pangolin while we went after the bull. Eventually Simba lost and we set off again with Simba carrying the pangolin, which by this point had rather obligingly curled up into a ball, presumably for ease of handling.

We got to within 80 yards or so of the group of bedded bulls. Hamish confirmed which bull to shoot and I got him in the crosshairs. I could just see the line of the nyala’s back through the long grass but with a solid bullet chambered we were confident if it was put in the right place it would do the job. I held low off the spine and pulled the trigger. All the bulls jumped up, and my bull took a few paces before dropping again, this time for good as the rest of the nyala ran off.

We approached the downed bull. What a beautiful animal. Inspection confirmed the arrow had indeed gone through the neck. It had sliced cleanly through the meat above the spine, a flesh wound that would not have proven fatal. Now I’m the first to admit it was a poor shot, but before you shake your head too firmly in condemnation, please remember the animal was steeply quartering away, so hitting the neck was not too wayward, certainly not relative to where the neck would be on a standard broadside shot.

Would I have liked to have killed the bull with one epic arrow? Or been able to get the job done without using a rifle? Of course. But after 7 days of hunting hard, numerous failed stalks and attempts at nyala, and more than enough crawling, I was really happy to have been able to hunt a very nice bull. More importantly, we had recovered the bull and finished the job relatively quickly, much preferable to leaving a wounded animal unrecovered in the bush.

We headed back to camp with the bull in the bed of the bakkie and the pangolin having firmly wedged itself between the seat and the door in the footwell of the landcruiser. As is the way, now that we had an nyala down, it seemed like large bulls were popping out of the forest to mock us as they kept appearing on the main road. As we got close to camp, a little after 3pm, the heavens properly opened and it rained torrentially.

I was therefore somewhat concerned to hear we would be having an open-air dinner in one of the pans. There’s nothing like torrential rain to make you appreciate a solid roof, which was one undeniable factor in favour of the dining room at ngazi camp. The forecast, however, was for the rain to clear and ZDS were determined to continue. It’s rumoured that the ground was so wet avgas was required to start the fire, but otherwise there was no more rain and we had a wonderful evening under the stars. We enjoyed a buffet dinner and a roaring fire with all the guests staying with ZDS.

Day 8

With all my target animals in the salt, and no need to hunt anything for camp meat, the hunting part of the adventure was over and I had three days to soak in the African bush before heading home. Having not yet gotten to ride in one of the amphibious vehicles, known as BVs, Hamish and I decided to accompany Nick and his PH Poen as they headed out onto the flood plains in search of zebra.

We started out in Poen’s landcruiser, and at the edge of the floodplain transferred into the BVs and resumed out travels onto the plains. Short open grasslands interspersed with palm trees. The scenery contained sizable herds of waterbuck, hartebeest, reedbuck, sable and, here and there, the sought after zebra. Spotting a group off in the distance, we all disembarked and set off in their general direction. As we got closer, Poen left Hamish and me at a stand of palms, and moved on with Nick and one of his trackers in an effort to get within range for a shot. After 20 minutes or so, they came trudging back – not enough cover and unforgiving wind had scuppered the stalk.

We hopped back into the BV and in just moments had spotted another group of zebra straight ahead. Poen handed control of the BV to Hamish, as he and Nick jumped out and moved forward on foot while Hamish drove the BVs off the track and away from the herd. While we waited for either a gunshot or a whistle to let us know Nick and Poen needed picking up, we sat on top of the BV and glassed the surrounding area. We saw a nice herd of the sable and watched two bulls fighting enthusiastically. In the distance we spotted another herd of zebra.

Upon hearing a whistle coming from the general direction of Nick and Poen, indicating an unsuccessful stalk, Hamish powered up the BV and we rumbled over. As soon as we got within sight of the hunters, I pointed in the direction of the zebra herd in the distance and mimed looking through my binos. Poen and his tracker Joao threw up their binos, spotted the distant zebra and motioned for Hamish to stop and wait once again as they headed off to try and get close to this new herd.

While we soon lost sight of Nick and co, we could see members of the herd casually milling to and fro. Before too long, the loud report of Nick’s 300 win mag sounded and we watched the herd break out in all directions, with one zebra piling over and soon Joao popped out of the cover in our direction, motioning us to bring the BV round. Nick had shot a beautiful zebra. Like a lot of east African zebra species, the selous zebra are distinguished by their stripes, which run all the way down to the hoof, and the lack of any kind of shadow stripe between the classic black and white.

We took photos and admired the animal. He was then loaded into the BV and we headed back to the bakkie, straight across a number of deepish rivers which the BV handled with no problem. We swapped the zebra and accrued passengers into the bakkie, and returned to camp. Arriving just after mid-day, I was able to enjoy my first lunch in camp for the trip. I will always take a quick bite on the go, and stay out and about rather than sacrifice precious hunting time to return to camp for lunch, but with all my animals in the salt it was nice to have a relaxed meal.

We had a quiet afternoon, taking it easy and not doing too much, with Poen taking us to go and have a look at the local village. Poen described how ZDS works hand in hand with the village, agreeing designated pieces of land for small plot subsistence farming, providing milling services for harvested corn, and operating a medical clinic and a school for the local children. This is of course in addition to the vast majority of the meat from the hunting operations which, alongside careful shooting by the ZDS staff, ensure the villages have enough protein to keep everyone fed.

Day 9

Another relaxed day. Nick had decided to hunt a hartebeest, and Hamish and I would accompany him and Poen when they headed out after lunch. Following breakfast, Nick, Hamish and I walked across the airstrip to take a look at mungari, the main tented camp that can accommodate 16 guests or so in 8 permanent tents.

On the way back, we stopped by the skinning shed. Have a full-to-bursting camp with our group and the other over at mungari, there were plenty of skulls, horns and skins in various stages of preparation. We took a look at a sable and a waterbuck that had recently come in and were in the process of being butchered before the meat was distributed to the local villages

Hamish and I left Nick back in camp and headed out for a casual stroll and a bit of birding. We walking around a pan and then took the bakkie for a cruise. We saw quite a few interesting birds, including a pair of crown eagles circling high up above and a klaas’ cuckoo, along with a range of other birds including swallow tailed bee eaters and yellow throated longclaws.

Back to camp for lunch, and then out with Nick and Poen in search of hartebeest. As we drove, we spooked five or six vultures into the sky and hopped out for a closer look. We found the remains of a warthog, and claw marks in the nearby tree indicated a leopard kill. The fact that the leopard had fed on the ground highlighted the lack of hyenas on the landscape – no need to bring their kill up into a tree to keep it away from the ground-dwelling hyenas.

Cruising through the sand forest, some hartebeest were spotted in the distance. Poen, Nick and Joao headed off to try and get in range, and Hamish and I were left at the landcruiser. The following three hours were hardly the most interesting. We looked at what birds we could find in the neighbouring trees, and took a look at some of the tracks on the sand road. We cracked a beer and speculated as to what could have been happening. I hypothesised to Hamish that Nick and Poen had been gone so long, they must have followed the hartebeest out of the range for us to hear a shot.

When a gunshot rang out much closer than expected, I almost jumped out of my skin. Shortly Joao appeared and indicated for us to bring the bakkie over, where Nick and Poen were waiting with a gorgeous hartebeest bull. It turns out with the swirling wind, Nick and Poen had played a three hour game of cat and mouse with the bull, which included crossing the sand road we had parked up on three times, and ultimately coming back to within a couple of hundred yards of the bakkie before getting a shot.

We headed back to camp through the dusk, and Poen dropped us off directly at the larger tented mungari camp, where we would be enjoying pizza night with all of the other guests.

Day 10

Our last full day in the delta. Hamish decided that we would go for a drive to the corner of the concession to check a leopard bait that had been left by another PH ahead of an upcoming hunt, and Nick came along for the ride. While the bait was unlikely to be hit, the PH was hoping to get some indication of the location of leopards prior to his client arriving.

We headed out, with Nick and me sitting up the top of the bakkie, reflecting on the trip and enjoying the scenery. Arriving at the destination, we hopped down and started to walk into the bait. As we got closer, Hamish chambered a round into his rifle (“never take any chances when walking into a bait”) however we discovered an untouched zebra leg, with no evidence a leopard or any other scavenger had stopped by.

The drive back took up the remainder of the morning, and we enjoyed lunch at camp followed by a leisurely afternoon. We sorted out the paperwork to conclude the trip, and as dusk approached, Hamish headed out with Nick, Teddy and myself for a final evening sundowner in one of the pans. We arrived, to find no fewer that 50 nyala bulls, in addition to at least as many females, plus a solitary sable and waterbuck and of course a few obligatory reedbuck. As the sun set we enjoyed the fading light, the antelope and of course an ice-cold beer.

Back to camp for our final dinner (hartebeest cordon bleu) and a few last drinks around the fire

Departure

We were set to fly out back to Beira via helicopter at mid-morning. We packed our bags and went for one final stroll around the camps, including a last trip to the skinning shed for the three of us. Before long we were waiving goodbye to the camp staff as the helicopter took off. Piloted by one of ZDS' extremely experienced pilots, he graciously flew us out over the floodplain before heading towards Beira.

Seeing the floodplains from the air really highlighted how vast the landscape was. We saw numerous herds of antelope, and some clear evidence of elephant tracks and buffalo herds, before catching glimpse of one final herd of buffalo before we flew out of the area and back to Beira. We also shared the airspace with several eagles, and enjoyed the rare opportunity to look down upon a soaring eagle.

We landed in Beira, said our goodbyes to the pilot and without too much further ado, boarded our flight to Johannesburg and drew an end to our Mozambique hunting adventure.

Surgeon7 said:

I also hunted with Hamish at ZDS last year. Can attest that he is a first class professional and one helluva photographer. Absolutely loved mark haldane and ZDS. Best hunt of my life! Can’t wait to return

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Hamish is a true gentleman. I'd love to go back for a waterbuck, sable and a swamp buff. ZDS' concession further south in Massingir also looks amazing