ZIMBABWE: Ngurungundu

Kevin Peacocke

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Zimbabwe, SouthAfrica
We left Home at 05:30 to avoid the mayhem of the morning commuter traffic on the Beit Bridge road heading south. This was to be a seven day hunt in the southern Save, the quest being mainly buffalo but also some plains game with all the meat going to the covid orphans. It was also to be the maiden outing for the new Heym double, in the African bush wild and inviting. Being in Carruthers Woods and I left a day early so as not to frustrate the other two guys in the Land Cruiser. We ambled along happily and had a very easy trip ending up in the Palms hotel in Chiredzi for the stayover, a very comfortable establishment. After dinner we set out a table and chairs outside our rooms looking out into the warm night over a dram or two of good single malt and a few cohibas. Whatever the hunt would bring, the beginning was most agreeable.
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Thanks. Great start. Nothing like that feeling- anticipation with pure relaxation.
 
After a hearty full English breakfast at a sensible hour we headed off to camp following some thinly written instructions and arrived a mere hour later with no misses, fresh and rearing to go. No sooner had we unpacked Carruthers than the second vehicle arrived from Harare, they must have flown. Camp was very rustic, tents with a separate communal shower tent with the hoisted hot bucket system. The kitchen was a grass hut with cooking on an open fire and the dining and hang-out lapa was off a bit, fronted by a fire pit overlooking a stretch of the river. We wasted no time setting up our teak and canvas chairs and side tables, to complete the ambiance for the evenings around the flames.
After a light lunch we took the hood off Carruthers and fitted the safari chair for our PH and tracker, looking something like the Beverley Hill Billies set up! It is such a pleasant way to hunt as everyone can talk to each other without banging on the roof of a bakkie to convey a sighting. That afternoon we drove around checking for spoor crossing into and out of the various areas, and there was plenty, including elephant. This was a reccee afternoon, so there were no follow-ups. The other group joined us in their vehicle and assessing the information gleaned a plan was hatched around the fire that night; Woods and I would go after the herd buff on the east of the area and the other group would pursue the dagga boys hanging around the riverine lines on the west.
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I absolutely love these hunting trips you have with your friends. A true blessing
 
Thanks for making the effort of sharing yet another adventure of you and your friends @Kevin Peacocke ! And with it being the first outing of your new Heym, we are waiting with anticipation! :)

Cheers and looking forward to the follow-up of such a great start!

V.
 
After a hearty full English breakfast at a sensible hour we headed off to camp following some thinly written instructions and arrived a mere hour later with no misses, fresh and rearing to go. No sooner had we unpacked Carruthers than the second vehicle arrived from Harare, they must have flown. Camp was very rustic, tents with a separate communal shower tent with the hoisted hot bucket system. The kitchen was a grass hut with cooking on an open fire and the dining and hang-out lapa was off a bit, fronted by a fire pit overlooking a stretch of the river. We wasted no time setting up our teak and canvas chairs and side tables, to complete the ambiance for the evenings around the flames.
After a light lunch we took the hood off Carruthers and fitted the safari chair for our PH and tracker, looking something like the Beverley Hill Billies set up! It is such a pleasant way to hunt as everyone can talk to each other without banging on the roof of a bakkie to convey a sighting. That afternoon we drove around checking for spoor crossing into and out of the various areas, and there was plenty, including elephant. This was a reccee afternoon, so there were no follow-ups. The other group joined us in their vehicle and assessing the information gleaned a plan was hatched around the fire that night; Woods and I would go after the herd buff on the east of the area and the other group would pursue the dagga boys hanging around the riverine lines on the west.
View attachment 474483
Picture of the vehicle please!
 
Love the thread title.
 
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Day one we set out on a bush track and lo and behold there ahead was a herd of buff crossing the road. We stopped, debussed and had a coffee to let them calm down before pursuing. I don't know whether the slight hand shake was the coffee or the excitement, but dropping those two DGX's into the welcoming gapes of the Heym settled me a bit. We set off at a deathly slow pace following steaming patties and soon the PH signalled us to all drop down. There they were in fairly thick bush, a few moo's emanating from the cluster. A cow was looking straight at us not 50 metres away and an easy shot, but I wanted a bull but couldn't see one. So we beckoned Woods forward but he declined, as he wanted me to get my bull, good of him, but the cow had had her fill of us and thundered off taking the other hundred or so with her. The PH was clearly a bit unsettled as well he might be, he had produced the goods and we had not taken him up. Round one.
There followed a stalk on the tracks and the herd had now split up. We followed the main group and after a while the sink signal came again. I couldn't see any of them but the PH set up the sticks facing a gap maybe 70 metres away. And then one crossed, "cow", then another, "cow", then another, "cow", all the time me squinting over the sights. Then the next, "bull". I took aim, the double boomed and off they thundered. But there was no reaction from him, and we found no blood. A complete miss! How could this be? All I can blame on the equipment side was the sticks, they were set too high, and the rest is down to me. The PH should have lowered the sticks, I should have lowered the sticks myself, why didn't I? Anyway a miss is a miss and The river flows forward, so get over it.
The rest of the day we followed this group into some very thick stuff and Woods had a shot on a caw but hesitated waiting for the OK ftom rhe PH which didn't come. And for the third time that day a chance was missed.
That night around the fire we established that this PH expected us to tell him what to do, which was new protocol to us. So we established the ground rules - if a shot presents itself, just take it.
We both had a Scotch, but could well have been iced tea, there was no warmth in it. Tomorrow is another day.
 
Kevin,

Just love the fact that you are able to take your own Land Rover as well as the super nice camp gear with you. Must make it a extra special experience. Best of luck on your adventure and may Diana smile upon you all. Being a nostalgic as well, it’s nice to see your trademark pith and the leather liquor box. Well done.

JP
 
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The next day we were out on the vehicle at 05:30 having enjoyed a hearty bowl of mealiemeal porridge. The idea was to return to the same area and see if we could make up for our folly. A thick cloud system had moved in and it had rained during the night, so old tracks would be gone but recent ones would stand out more clearly. We drove the two boundaries we could get to, no exit movement apparent, but the other two sides of this block were inaccessible and an unknown. So we decided to criss cross the area anyway and see what comes. The tracker picked up last night's spoor of a few buff, and we followed them as best we could, heading towards a small thickly-wooded granite hill. As we got really close to the base of the hill all hell broke loose - a group of four bushpig bolted in all directions. Up went the double almost instinctively and the first pig tumbled, I swung on the second looking for a left and right but missed him. All of this took a maximum of four seconds and then silence. The bushpig I got was a sow, what a beautiful animal, my first, and more importantly the first blood to the Heym. By tradition, first blood gives a new rifle it's name, so Ngurungundu it is, bushpig in the Ndou language and having something to do with the beautiful reddish-brown mane resembling the baobab bark hats that the men make around here. What a fine name for a double rifle don't you think? It will be engraved on the new fitted gun case that Natal Gun Company is building for it.
We gutted the little pig and left it to hang in a tree while we scouted those tracks a bit more, but after so much action in this area it was now done and time to head back to camp for some fire therapy in this rather chilly weather. Fillets were cut from the pig and set in milk to prepare them for tomorrow's meal.
The Scotch tonight tasted much warmer, not buffalo warm granted, but bushpig warm is pretty cosy too.
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That is indeed a great name and a nice tradition. I did not know that this existed, to name one's rifle after the first animal taken with it.

And Waidmannsheil for that fine bushpig, she will be excellent on the bbq I'm sure! Well done!
 
On the way back to camp the tracker noticed a new herd of buffalo heading into an area we hadn't touched yet. So this morning we were onto them, at least twenty animals, so tracking should be easy. This group stuck together but meandered all over the place as if they were lost. Our PH put this down to the weather, the rains apparently unsettle them and put them ill at ease. Eventually we began to close in, the dung was warm and we caught a few bellows. Then a shot rang out, a small calibre and some distance away, but enough to send the herd thundering off. The culprit appears to have been the PH of a pair of hunters also working the larger concession and he was collecting impala or zebra for their leopard baits. We met these hunters later, from Texas I think they said, really great guys and they did eventually get a tom each, one with a bow. The second guy drove into our camp on the last evening when he got his cat and we shared a cogratulatory beer. They didn't know about AH, but said they would look it up.
Anyway I digress, back to the buffalo. So we disengaged and headed back to camp for lunch to give the herd time to settle down again. Back on the tracks in the early afternoon and Simba our tracker brought another tracker along for good measure. These two worked in harmony and we were soon on hot patties again. Now it was Wood's turn to be on point with his Ruger No1 375H&H and Leica scope. The sticks went up, again too high, but Woods was neverless on them aiming first to the left, then swiveling to the right as the buff moved slowly along offering opportunities. The shot rang out and at maybe 70 metres with that scope there could be no doubt. The minutes ticked by and we were about to dress forward to check for blood and begin a follow up when the death bellow came. Huge joy all around, back slapping and ululating. This was a large bodied old cow and the shot had hit the shoulder text book perfect taking out both lungs and the plumbing. Now the challenge was to get her back to camp. Carruthers had retrieved sable, water buck, even a large zebra, but a buffalo? There was only one thing for it - Simba and I would go and fetch the vehicle whilst the others cut the buff in half. We would attempt to take it all, but if not we could come back for a second round. The buffalo was cut in half with a pair of Opinel No7 carbones, truly magnificent knives.
To do the loading the back seat lifts off and once the animal is on it reverses with two support struts and some folks ride back to the skinning shed facig backwards.
Anyway the front half went on alright, so we added the rear end too and fitted the seat to keep it all contained. The trackers insisted upon bringing all the offal back, so that went in the spare tyre well on the hood, and everyone climbed aboard for a slow ride home - a full buffalo minus only all the grass and five people, these Series 1's cant be beaten.
We had broken our buffalo duck and some special Welsh single malt and the Cohibas came out to celebrate.
8F089E3A-12C1-4468-88B9-B0B8D946D950.jpeg
9DAE42C9-626C-4430-8B9F-D8D6C0F4A828.jpeg
 
The next day we were out on the vehicle at 05:30 having enjoyed a hearty bowl of mealiemeal porridge. The idea was to return to the same area and see if we could make up for our folly. A thick cloud system had moved in and it had rained during the night, so old tracks would be gone but recent ones would stand out more clearly. We drove the two boundaries we could get to, no exit movement apparent, but the other two sides of this block were inaccessible and an unknown. So we decided to criss cross the area anyway and see what comes. The tracker picked up last night's spoor of a few buff, and we followed them as best we could, heading towards a small thickly-wooded granite hill. As we got really close to the base of the hill all hell broke loose - a group of four bushpig bolted in all directions. Up went the double almost instinctively and the first pig tumbled, I swung on the second looking for a left and right but missed him. All of this took a maximum of four seconds and then silence. The bushpig I got was a sow, what a beautiful animal, my first, and more importantly the first blood to the Heym. By tradition, first blood gives a new rifle it's name, so Ngurungundu it is, bushpig in the Ndou language and having something to do with the beautiful reddish-brown mane resembling the baobab bark hats that the men make around here. What a fine name for a double rifle don't you think? It will be engraved on the new fitted gun case that Natal Gun Company is building for it.
We gutted the little pig and left it to hang in a tree while we scouted those tracks a bit more, but after so much action in this area it was now done and time to head back to camp for some fire therapy in this rather chilly weather. Fillets were cut from the pig and set in milk to prepare them for tomorrow's meal.
The Scotch tonight tasted much warmer, not buffalo warm granted, but bushpig warm is pretty cosy too.
View attachment 474500
A bush pig in broad daylight is a very special thing. Congrats.

Great name - but I dare you to say it three times really fast. ;)

And I much prefer the slouch hat! :A Way To Go:
 
Thanks, nice report so far.
 
The other two members of our group had great fun chasing at least four separate very old and wiley dagga boys through thick riverine bush and missed two shots. These bulls all got nicknames and we would hear the stories each evening about Norman or Big Foot having given them the slip again. They did get a nice bush buck which we had for dinner. I took one more shot at a buff bull and missed again, probably time to mount the red dot.
Now it was time to leave. The cruiser sped off to keep an afternoon appointment in Harare but Woods and I decided to amble back via the eastern mountain road and overnight at LaRochelle hotel near Mutare. This was the home of Sir Steven and Lady Virginia Courtauld, very wealthy textile barons who decided to leave the London high life behind and settle in Southern Rhodesia. It is a real historical treat and did I mention the quaint wood panelled bar has a fine selection of single malts, and a few goid bourbons too. The steak dinner was excellent, and the full English breakfast in the morning included juicy Cambridge sausages.
The kitchen filled our coffee flask and off we ambled home, the end of another wonderful adventure in this splendid little country of ours.
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Was that Ruger #1 your old one?
 

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