Here is the expanded version:
Day three of the hunt was the first real chance we had to search for elephant sign (one and two were focused on bait collection for leopard). Breakfast was at 4:30, and by 5:00 we were on the move, eager to find fresh tracks. The first location showed clear signs—easy to spot thanks to a light rain the night before—but it turned out to be a large herd of cows and calves, not something we wanted to follow.
We shifted to another area, a hidden grassland with lush green vegetation and a small waterhole. The ground was covered in tracks from the night before, but no elephants were in sight. Around midday, with the sun blazing, we stopped for lunch and a short rest, hoping for better luck in the evening. By four o’clock, with temperatures still hovering around 100 degrees, we were back on the trail, focusing on the few remaining water sources.
As we neared the boundary of the property, we finally spotted a group of elephants—on the neighboring concession but working our way. After a long, hot day, it was great to see elephants at last, but this group consisted of cows, calves, and young bulls, so we decided not to pursue them.
The next day marked a transition to another camp a few hours away. This property, set along a river, offered a more reliable water source and, with it, the promise of bigger game. The journey took longer than expected—something I’ve learned is common in Zimbabwe, where everything seems to take twice as long as planned.
By mid-afternoon, in the sweltering heat, we began an exploratory hunt to locate fresh sign. We decided to drag the roads clean of tracks, preparing for a fresh read the next morning. On our final loop, however, we noticed new bull tracks imprinted over our tire marks—a sure sign the elephant had passed through only moments earlier. We quickly grabbed our rifles and began following. Our pace quickened from a walk to nearly a jog, but darkness came too soon. We’d have to try again at first light. On the way back, we crossed a fresh leopard track—a humbling reminder of our place on the food chain.
At dawn the next morning, we returned to the area, arriving at first light in hopes of finding the bull still nearby. It was a good plan—but not quite good enough. The dragged roads revealed a mass of elephant tracks leaving during the night. The herd had moved out under cover of darkness. We adjusted our plan, choosing to focus our search on where they might re-enter the area later in the afternoon.
By 4 p.m., our patience paid off. We located a herd of around twenty elephants. Several careful stalks brought us within 60 yards, close enough to evaluate the lead bull. It didn’t take long to see he wasn’t what we were after, so we backed out and returned to the truck in search of new sign.
Not long after, we came across a set of bull tracks—bigger and very fresh. We disembarked and began another stalk, moving quietly toward a nearby water source. When we sighted the group, one stood out immediately—an old bull with deep, sunken temples and a large body.
We maneuvered for position, and when the moment came, I lined up for a side brain shot. The left barrel of my .500 Nitro barked, and the shot hit true. The bull staggered but caught himself. Brendan and Richter followed up, and I pulled the second trigger to place a round in the chest. The bull went down. We moved closer for one final shot to ensure a quick, humane end to the magnificent animal.
The bull was everything I had dreamed of—massive, weathered, and perfect in every way. Cutting the tail and standing beside him was a surreal moment, the realization of a childhood dream.
The following day was devoted to breaking down the elephant and hauling out thousands of pounds of meat. It was a communal effort—a dozen men skinning, deboning, and cooking portions for lunch over an open fire. Amid the work, we found a surprise: a perfectly expanded .416 TSX buried in the meat, a relic from a previous hunter who had failed to take this bull.
What had once been someone else’s missed opportunity had become my triumph—a lifelong dream fulfilled: walking up to a giant with a double rifle in hand.
This was my third trip to Africa, the first including a Cape buffalo, then second was earlier this year for lion and rhino. The elephant success marks the fourth.
