mark-hunter
AH ambassador
COMPLIMENTS THAT SURPRISED ME
On this safari, many things happened to me for the first time. Perhaps even for Vaughan, with my 100-meter brain shot on the elephant — or the Shelly francolin that he shot for the first time in his life.
I also received compliments I never expected.
Every large animal fell to the first shot, dropping in its tracks, with an occasional securing shot simply to make sure it stayed down — and I did it all with rifles that were unfamiliar to me, casuing all my concerns on the begging of the trip
Rifles I was getting to know as I went along.
Well, OK, I admit 22lr I need to practise some more, as monkey and guineas had proven.
When the sable fell, I had aimed for the neck because that was the only part of the animal I could see between the trees, even though that is not my preferred shot.
The scouts behind me could see nothing at all — except that the sable had dropped exactly where it stood.
Once the sable had been packed up for transport, I leaned against the Toyota and opened a beer.
The Zimbabwe Parks ranger, who had been mostly quiet for the previous few days, approached me.
He had already seen my earlier shots and the elephant, and after the sable was down he said:
“Sir, you shoot like a sniper!”
And he shook my hand.
He had already seen the elephant drop at 100 meters, as well as the baboon and the bushbuck.
Then, a few days later, the zebra went down — again, a drop in its tracks.
I hit it in the spine while it was moving, just as it was disappearing down the ridge behind a tree. The bullet had to pass slightly above the grass, about two feet off the ground, across the ridge, just a moment before zebra had slipped down.
The entire team was watching closely from the vehicle, like they were sitting in the stands at a sporting event.
When the zebra dropped, all five of them stood up and applauded!
I had never experienced or seen anything like that before.
I can say that I probably could not reproduce all of that on a paper target, shooting from field positions at home range.
I can say that I probably could not reproduce all of that on a paper target, shooting from field positions at home range.
I do training at home, but perhaps luck also played its part. Yes, it must have been luck. Or, maybe a Shona beleif, of first animal on safari to be taken for the pot.
The guys knew how to appreciate it, because throughout all ten days there was never any need for a tracking on a blood spoor.
Looking back on it, tracking a wounded elephant would have been a nightmare with a very uncertain outcome. Even if I had taken a heart-and-lung shot, the few hundred meters the elephant might have covered would have been extremely stressful for me.
Perhaps that is why I chose to aim for the brain.
At one point, during a conversation around the campfire, I asked Vaughan whether he had ever lost a wounded elephant.
He said yes, it had happened.
I asked him how that happens. Is there any pattern?
He said they mostly had been clients who did not want the PH to give them a backup shot.
The next morning, the entire camp came to say goodbye to me. This is a tradition in safari areas.
In situations like this, I feel a little uncomfortable because I did not remember everyone's name.
Johny, the skinner as I called him (by forgetting his name), brought me the bracelets made from elephant tail hair. I put them on my wrist.
Gary dressed up for town that morning.
Gary was driving me. One of the scouts, Tenda, also came with us. He was a former Zimbabwe Parks ranger.
We stopped along the way and bought some biltong, then slowly made our way to Robert Mugabe International Airport in Harare.
I was leaving Maninga with a heavy heart.
I already knew that images from this hunt would keep coming back to me for months, appearing before my eyes again and again.
Now, a year after the hunt, not a day passes without me rembembering every detail of the hunt vividly.
But even on the airplane, I was already making new plans.
On the plane, I mixed my thoughts in Croatian and English, as I always do when I replay the images of a safari in my mind.
— Return to Africa?
— It goes without saying!
But what, and where?
Should I work on the geographical exploration angle and visit some other countries I have not yet seen — South Africa, Botswana, Zambia, Mozambique?
Or perhaps take another step toward one of the spiral-horned antelopes?
A wild nyala in the riverine forests of southern Mozambique?
Or a sitatunga in the remote, rarely mentioned swamps of Zambia?
Or something else?
With two of the Big Five in the bag, can I dare hope for the remaining three?
This is not so simple!
Maybe to try rhino darting next, visit South Africa, and get Nyala along the way (my 4th spiral horn)?
There is another issue: today, rhino hunting is essentially conducted in fenced or enclosed hunting areas in South Africa and Namibia.
Because of this, the whole concept of nostalgia for the African wilderness and the traditional Big Five has taken on a somewhat outdated and obsolete meaning.
But the call of dangerous-game hunting remains. And big 5 still roam somwhere, rhinos included on the farms in Africa
So, when it comes to rhino, and taking all of this into consideration, the option I could see myself pursuing next would be a rhino dart hunt — darting a rhino with a tranquilizer
This is an option I intended to research more deeply over the winter.
While it was most serious thought I had as the plane took of from Harare tarmac, the destiny had other plans.
Almost a year later, and In a few days I will be travelling to entirely new destination, I never imagined before. Beyond my wildest dreams
But Africa may rest assured, I am coming back!
And then, Vaughan and Gary! And their team!
Without them, this hunt would have never happened.
I am deeply convinced that with them, the Maninga Conservancy has a great future ahead of it.
I need to come home, there again!
On this safari, many things happened to me for the first time. Perhaps even for Vaughan, with my 100-meter brain shot on the elephant — or the Shelly francolin that he shot for the first time in his life.
I also received compliments I never expected.
Every large animal fell to the first shot, dropping in its tracks, with an occasional securing shot simply to make sure it stayed down — and I did it all with rifles that were unfamiliar to me, casuing all my concerns on the begging of the trip
Rifles I was getting to know as I went along.
Well, OK, I admit 22lr I need to practise some more, as monkey and guineas had proven.
When the sable fell, I had aimed for the neck because that was the only part of the animal I could see between the trees, even though that is not my preferred shot.
The scouts behind me could see nothing at all — except that the sable had dropped exactly where it stood.
Once the sable had been packed up for transport, I leaned against the Toyota and opened a beer.
The Zimbabwe Parks ranger, who had been mostly quiet for the previous few days, approached me.
He had already seen my earlier shots and the elephant, and after the sable was down he said:
“Sir, you shoot like a sniper!”
And he shook my hand.
He had already seen the elephant drop at 100 meters, as well as the baboon and the bushbuck.
Then, a few days later, the zebra went down — again, a drop in its tracks.
I hit it in the spine while it was moving, just as it was disappearing down the ridge behind a tree. The bullet had to pass slightly above the grass, about two feet off the ground, across the ridge, just a moment before zebra had slipped down.
The entire team was watching closely from the vehicle, like they were sitting in the stands at a sporting event.
When the zebra dropped, all five of them stood up and applauded!
I had never experienced or seen anything like that before.
I can say that I probably could not reproduce all of that on a paper target, shooting from field positions at home range.
I can say that I probably could not reproduce all of that on a paper target, shooting from field positions at home range.
I do training at home, but perhaps luck also played its part. Yes, it must have been luck. Or, maybe a Shona beleif, of first animal on safari to be taken for the pot.
The guys knew how to appreciate it, because throughout all ten days there was never any need for a tracking on a blood spoor.
Looking back on it, tracking a wounded elephant would have been a nightmare with a very uncertain outcome. Even if I had taken a heart-and-lung shot, the few hundred meters the elephant might have covered would have been extremely stressful for me.
Perhaps that is why I chose to aim for the brain.
At one point, during a conversation around the campfire, I asked Vaughan whether he had ever lost a wounded elephant.
He said yes, it had happened.
I asked him how that happens. Is there any pattern?
He said they mostly had been clients who did not want the PH to give them a backup shot.
The next morning, the entire camp came to say goodbye to me. This is a tradition in safari areas.
In situations like this, I feel a little uncomfortable because I did not remember everyone's name.
Johny, the skinner as I called him (by forgetting his name), brought me the bracelets made from elephant tail hair. I put them on my wrist.
Gary dressed up for town that morning.
Gary was driving me. One of the scouts, Tenda, also came with us. He was a former Zimbabwe Parks ranger.
We stopped along the way and bought some biltong, then slowly made our way to Robert Mugabe International Airport in Harare.
I was leaving Maninga with a heavy heart.
I already knew that images from this hunt would keep coming back to me for months, appearing before my eyes again and again.
Now, a year after the hunt, not a day passes without me rembembering every detail of the hunt vividly.
But even on the airplane, I was already making new plans.
On the plane, I mixed my thoughts in Croatian and English, as I always do when I replay the images of a safari in my mind.
— Return to Africa?
— It goes without saying!
But what, and where?
Should I work on the geographical exploration angle and visit some other countries I have not yet seen — South Africa, Botswana, Zambia, Mozambique?
Or perhaps take another step toward one of the spiral-horned antelopes?
A wild nyala in the riverine forests of southern Mozambique?
Or a sitatunga in the remote, rarely mentioned swamps of Zambia?
Or something else?
With two of the Big Five in the bag, can I dare hope for the remaining three?
This is not so simple!
Maybe to try rhino darting next, visit South Africa, and get Nyala along the way (my 4th spiral horn)?
There is another issue: today, rhino hunting is essentially conducted in fenced or enclosed hunting areas in South Africa and Namibia.
Because of this, the whole concept of nostalgia for the African wilderness and the traditional Big Five has taken on a somewhat outdated and obsolete meaning.
But the call of dangerous-game hunting remains. And big 5 still roam somwhere, rhinos included on the farms in Africa
So, when it comes to rhino, and taking all of this into consideration, the option I could see myself pursuing next would be a rhino dart hunt — darting a rhino with a tranquilizer
This is an option I intended to research more deeply over the winter.
While it was most serious thought I had as the plane took of from Harare tarmac, the destiny had other plans.
Almost a year later, and In a few days I will be travelling to entirely new destination, I never imagined before. Beyond my wildest dreams
But Africa may rest assured, I am coming back!
And then, Vaughan and Gary! And their team!
Without them, this hunt would have never happened.
I am deeply convinced that with them, the Maninga Conservancy has a great future ahead of it.
I need to come home, there again!
