Mtn_Infantry
AH fanatic
Congratulations on a beautiful buffalo bullA cow crosses in front of our bull headed back from where the herd came. She takes him with her. She crosses a nice opening in the bush. He goes behind her. She feeds up the ridge. He feeds behind it. I have the 5x scope cranked to gather as much light as possible. I’m wishing I had 12x about now. He is suddenly back on our side of the ridge. Two more steps. I confirm with York we are looking at the same bull. Yes. I’m ready to shoot. “Let it rip”, he replies but not before confirming I’m steady. As good as it’s going to get. The report on the .416 buffalo poison machine knocks me back but I never lose sight of the bull. Awful big puff of dust got kicked off him. York looks at me, me at him. It should be solid I retort. The group has now joined us from over the crest of the koppe. Lots of nodding in the affirmative to a solid sounding hit. Zvito reenacts a front shoulder hit.
I’m not nervous. I’m not shaking. Excited yes. Unsure of the shot, yes. Concerned for the group, yes. We barely drop off the hill and Zvito takes a hard right. Can’t be there yet, he wasn’t this close. Where’s the 30’ tree he was standing beside? The 30’ is reduced to a 10’ sapling and the 130 yd shot, more like 90 across the valley floor. Well, that is certainly surprising. Zvito is already on the track, making hand signals about where the bull has gone. Brief interlude here. Do they really always know what the animal is going to do next? I suspect most always they do, but I can’t help to wonder if all the scenes they play out aren’t more of an active imagination. One SMALL drop of blood. I know this is weird timing but only two things cross my mind. “Wow, not a lot of blood” and “He is my bull now for the good or bad of it”. Twenty more yards and another drop of blood. The search party closes rank and tightens up. York and I are out front. Zvito is tracking and at the same time scanning ahead. Appie PH and Wildlife Ranger protect our rear. Light continues to fade. The mass is shuffling in unison. At least my heart is pumping now. We come across a large pool of obvious lung blood. Zvito is acting out Scene Three, the bull blowing blood from his nose and mouth.
I’m not exactly sure who laid eyes on the bull first, but both York and Zvito began making furious gestures for me to step forward and shoot. The one with the grey sides in the dry wash. I’ve remembered to lower scope back to 1.5x. No rookie here . I shoot for center mass as the bull turns up the draw. It was the only shot I had. York takes us to the nearest high ground. I send two more toward the bull now angling our direction but less a charge, than him just trying to find a way up out of the gully I think. The third shot stops him, and he swaps ends, heading back 180 degrees. I’m now empty and tell York to shoot if he can to which he obliges.
It’s amazingly calm now in the chaos. The bull is down but not completely out. We hear other buffalo off to our left, but it’s quiet somehow. Almost relaxing. I can’t explain it. Everyone has paused. For a minute or two it’s as if we are assessing the scene, replaying what just unfolded. The silence is broken by the bellow. What every buffalo hunter wants to hear. The sun has now fallen below the horizon. We slip up and admire the warrior at our feet. Nothing but admiration for the beast.
Within 15 minutes the camp firewood crew, that was in the general area, has now arrived and they are blazing a trail to the dry wash. Congratulatory handshakes, a few pics, documentation for Appie PH’s log and we are ready to head to camp but not before a Zambezi beer or two. I’m officially a buffalo hunter!
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As we are standing around waiting on the loading crew I quipped to Appie PH Heath (pictured above) that there was a 40”+ cow in that herd, did he see her? . York advised “Yeah, there were at least two, one maybe 42”+”.
