back40sniper
CGN Regular
- Location
- South east Sask.
Good show Ben! and yes, why not more pics? you can't just throw out a few for teasers and quit. Those of us who couldn't make it need to live vicariosly through you!
Alright You Buggers, Here It Is - Back from Zimbabwe - Continued in Post 42
- Thread starter BigUglyMan
- Start date
BigUglyMan
CGN Ultra frequent flyer
- Location
- New Scotland
And Now, The continuation of "Alright You Buggers"
So with my Buffalo in the salt, a stout warthog taken care of and a jackal bagged by my brother, the hunt took on a very relaxed feel. Sure, we still got up every morning at 4:30 and were in the blind by 5 trying to get a hyena for Matt, but we were on Day 5 and just looking for the "nice to have" beasties.
But let me tell you, at 4:45 AM, it is some kind of dark. Add in a cloudy sky and it makes for a very dark walk into the hyena blind. Add walking barefoot and the constant threat of lions or elephant lurking in the darkness and it makes for more excitement than I've ever had that early in the morning.
Now that we had the buffalo down Mom decided to rejoin the expedition. The prospect of a long buffalo walk was too much for her but everything else would likely entail short walks from the truck or Gibbo would send one of the trackers to move the truck to a point where we would rejoin them later on. Now, I should mention that as I had said that I wanted a bushbuck we spent a lot of time walking rivers. The rivers were generally dry with some water in places. Nothing deep, but enough to turn it from walking in dry sand to walking in very wet sand. When we set out down the Maura River we started by dodging the wet spots by climbing the flat rock around them. This got old quickly. So we abandoned our shoes and walked the river barefoot. Much better. Aside from having a hard time getting the sand off my feet before I put my socks and boots back on it was the best way to walk the rivers. We walked several rivers and, while we didn't find bushbuck, we were nearly run over by kudu on one river. No big boy, but it was fun to see them that close. Here we are coming to the end of a fairly gruelling river walk, before heading to Mana Angwa for lunch.
Matt had been talking about shooting a baboon for a while. He decided to take the afternoon off the day after I shot my buffalo (a chafing related injury) so Gibbo and I tooled around looking for the next opportunity. We set out after a troop of baboons and spent nearly an hour going uphill and down dale chasing them. When we finally got to the point that I could get a shot they were a bit far off for my liking. There were lots of baboons and some real big dogs, but I wasn't 100% convinced that I wanted one so I passed. The next day Matt got his wish and set off after some baboons with Gibbo. We waited for quite a while and were finally rewarded with a shot. The trackers and I hotfooted down the road and found Matt and Gibbo with a stout dog baboon. Apparently he had been sitting there and looked over his shoulder at the hunters as they approached. He gave them a look up and down and snorted, turning away and resumed siting on his duff watching the other baboons, likely waiting to sidle up to a likely female. Well wait no longer. 300 grains of Hornady goodness through the armpits and he just sat there, teetered for a moment, then fell over. Lekker. And look at the teeth on this bugger!
At that point, I decided I wanted one too. As luck would have it, I didn't have to wait too long. The next morning we were out looking for an Impala for Matt and maybe a baboon for me. As we drove a road near the Kachoe River we saw both targets milling about further down the river. So we set out, Gibbo, Matt and I, leaving Mom and the trackers at the truck. As we got closer Gibbo slid down into the river and up towards a dead tree lying in the river. He turned and pointed, I was certain at Matt, and beckoned him forward. I handed Matt the 375 and waited for him to clobber an Impala. Mmmm...Tasty Impala. As Matt slid down into the river and approached, it became clear that it wasn't Impala that we were going to shoot. Gibbo beckoned me forward. I snuck, as only a 6'5" 240 lb man can sneak, up to the tree and took the 375 from my brother. I got on the Dog that Gibbo was pointing out. The bugger was walking to my left and I didn't want to chance a shot at a moving animal. Yes, I know that I shot my buffalo while he was walking, but his boiler room was much bigger than a baboon's! Well this dog didn't stop until he was behind a tree. No big deal, in these troops there's always another dog just a moment away. I could see one a couple hundred yards off on the far side of the river. No good way to get to him though. Then guess who pops up from a patch of grass? That's right, bachelor number 3. On 9x this was going to be a chip shot. I settled the infernal amber triangle high in his back, figuring to knock his plumbing loose. I settled in and squeezed off the shot. Perfect...except the damned chamber was empty. "Click" instead of "Bang" is some loud. I got the rifle loaded and stinkeyed my brother (though it may well have been my fault initially) and settled back in on the still ambivalent baboon. I squeezed off the shot and it was pandemonium. Chacmas everywhere going this way and that. My guy went down like he was hit by lightning. When things settled down a female came over to my guy and gave him a look before walking up the bank and sitting down. When we were sure that everything was done we approached. It was then that I came to realize that the baboon hasn't got much of a neck and that "high back" can turn into "back of the toque" with just a little crosshair creep. I hit him in the back of the neck, exiting right around the medulla oblongata. After the fact we found a few puzzle pieces that used to form part of his skull but thankfully the skull remained largely intact. Besides, a skull with the back blown out will likely come in handy when some 16 year old comes around to take my daughter out some day! This bugger was big, feeling like he weighed around 100 lbs or a hair more. Serious character too... he had obviously been in a fight some years ago and had a nasty cut from about 2" up his snout (clear into his nostril) down through his lip. Nasty. Hopefully it shows up in the pics.
Later that afternoon Matt headed off with Gibbo after some Impala we had seen crossing the road. After what seemed like a long time we heard the shot and headed to the scene. No impala there but there was some blood. I started feeling pretty bad because we had run out of softpoints the day before and Matt waded into this job unaware that he had a solid up the spout. Fortunately we only followed blood for a couple of hundred yards when we saw him lying under a tree, stone dead. Matt was crestfallen, thinking that he had shot a small one as the horn tips tilted in rather that straight up or splaying out. Boy was he wrong. As we dragged him out and got looking at him we knew that we had finally found a stud Impala, rather than the 18"-18" guppies we had been seeing. When all was said and done they measured him at 24 1/2". Skookum by anyone's definition and big enough to qualify for the Rowland Ward book, should Matt care to enter him.
As the hunt wore down things were very casual. We tried for Hyena some more but after a disastrous morning where Matt shot and wounded two hyena within an hour our luck at getting them in dried up. But we spent a lot of time in pursuit of bushbuck or kudu, which I told Gibbo that I'd shoot if we found a really big one. And I had thought about taking an Impala, despite shooting one in RSA three years ago. We had stalked dozens of groups of Impala but never had a shot at a decent one. But with hunting, persistence often pays off. On the last day of our hunt some Impala crossed the road as only Impala can cross a road - at a flat gallop and flying through the air like birds as they jumped. We set off after them and thus started a stalk where we saw them three times, the last one with the herd heading over a ridge ahead of us. We sprinted up the hill and all I could think was that when we got to the top I wasn't sure that I'd have my wind back in time to make the shot. As we came to the top of the ridge the Impala started to file out. Ewe after ewe came out in front of us and finally the ram came out, turned away, stopped and looked back at us. As I centered the reticle on him, I willed him to turn, to show me some shoulder or something that I could shoot him through, rather than his backside. Gibbo whispered to me "Whack him" and all I could think was "in the @ss?" But I did what anyone should do, I centered the reticle in line with where his important bits should be and squeezed off the shot. He folded up like any animal I'd spine shot before. It looked like his legs lifted up before he fell to the ground. We approached and after looking him over and a futile attempt to shout to the waiting car, Gibbo left me there to go retrieve the trackers and Matt and Mom. As I sat on the top of that rocky hill with my hand on my beautiful Impala ram and looking out at the vast beauty of the Chewore Safari area I couldn't help but feel that it couldn't get any better. My only regret was that my father, the man who introduced me to hunting and the outdoors, wasn't there to share it with me. As I was joined for photos by my mom and brother I turned to Matt and said "Well, I think we're done". What a way to end a safari. Tell me I'm wrong.
But you know what they say…hunters plan, and God laughs.
We were out cruising, just around dark, looking for a baboon for Matt's buddy, Baboon. Yes, I gave him that nickname and there's a story there. Anyhow, I took a shot at a baboon and winged him. We waded into the ever darkening bush trying to follow the blood but eventually ran out of light and blood. Not a good way to end a hunt. As we walked back to the truck, fairly casually, Gibbo waved me up. It was 6:10PM and damn near dark. But Robert had spotted a Civet Cat on the sand 40 yards away. Gibbo asked Richard, our Game Scout, if there was enough light and if it was still legal. Little Richard gave us the go ahead and I jumped onto the sticks. I hadn't ever intended to shoot a Civet, but this was one of those times that the sound you hear is opportunity knocking. OPEN THE DAMN DOOR! The amber triangle settled just so (and this was one of those shots that would have been impossible with a non-lighted reticle) and I squeezed off the shot. I saw the Civet turn to flee as I cycled the action and rammed off another shot at him as he headed up the bank. We ran and jumped the water in the river to get to where we'd last seen the Civet. I saw the ditch dug by the 300 grain DGS bullet. As we got to the bank Gibbo spied the Civet, stone dead. I didn't get a good look to see if I hit him with the second shot, but the first did it's job. Gibbo said that he hadn't shot one with a client in almost three years and it wwas only the second one he'd ever taken with a client. From a guy that's been a PH for 20-odd years, that makes it even more special. What an amazing trophy to end the hunt.
So there it is. Hope you all have enjoyed.
So with my Buffalo in the salt, a stout warthog taken care of and a jackal bagged by my brother, the hunt took on a very relaxed feel. Sure, we still got up every morning at 4:30 and were in the blind by 5 trying to get a hyena for Matt, but we were on Day 5 and just looking for the "nice to have" beasties.
But let me tell you, at 4:45 AM, it is some kind of dark. Add in a cloudy sky and it makes for a very dark walk into the hyena blind. Add walking barefoot and the constant threat of lions or elephant lurking in the darkness and it makes for more excitement than I've ever had that early in the morning.
Now that we had the buffalo down Mom decided to rejoin the expedition. The prospect of a long buffalo walk was too much for her but everything else would likely entail short walks from the truck or Gibbo would send one of the trackers to move the truck to a point where we would rejoin them later on. Now, I should mention that as I had said that I wanted a bushbuck we spent a lot of time walking rivers. The rivers were generally dry with some water in places. Nothing deep, but enough to turn it from walking in dry sand to walking in very wet sand. When we set out down the Maura River we started by dodging the wet spots by climbing the flat rock around them. This got old quickly. So we abandoned our shoes and walked the river barefoot. Much better. Aside from having a hard time getting the sand off my feet before I put my socks and boots back on it was the best way to walk the rivers. We walked several rivers and, while we didn't find bushbuck, we were nearly run over by kudu on one river. No big boy, but it was fun to see them that close. Here we are coming to the end of a fairly gruelling river walk, before heading to Mana Angwa for lunch.
Matt had been talking about shooting a baboon for a while. He decided to take the afternoon off the day after I shot my buffalo (a chafing related injury) so Gibbo and I tooled around looking for the next opportunity. We set out after a troop of baboons and spent nearly an hour going uphill and down dale chasing them. When we finally got to the point that I could get a shot they were a bit far off for my liking. There were lots of baboons and some real big dogs, but I wasn't 100% convinced that I wanted one so I passed. The next day Matt got his wish and set off after some baboons with Gibbo. We waited for quite a while and were finally rewarded with a shot. The trackers and I hotfooted down the road and found Matt and Gibbo with a stout dog baboon. Apparently he had been sitting there and looked over his shoulder at the hunters as they approached. He gave them a look up and down and snorted, turning away and resumed siting on his duff watching the other baboons, likely waiting to sidle up to a likely female. Well wait no longer. 300 grains of Hornady goodness through the armpits and he just sat there, teetered for a moment, then fell over. Lekker. And look at the teeth on this bugger!
At that point, I decided I wanted one too. As luck would have it, I didn't have to wait too long. The next morning we were out looking for an Impala for Matt and maybe a baboon for me. As we drove a road near the Kachoe River we saw both targets milling about further down the river. So we set out, Gibbo, Matt and I, leaving Mom and the trackers at the truck. As we got closer Gibbo slid down into the river and up towards a dead tree lying in the river. He turned and pointed, I was certain at Matt, and beckoned him forward. I handed Matt the 375 and waited for him to clobber an Impala. Mmmm...Tasty Impala. As Matt slid down into the river and approached, it became clear that it wasn't Impala that we were going to shoot. Gibbo beckoned me forward. I snuck, as only a 6'5" 240 lb man can sneak, up to the tree and took the 375 from my brother. I got on the Dog that Gibbo was pointing out. The bugger was walking to my left and I didn't want to chance a shot at a moving animal. Yes, I know that I shot my buffalo while he was walking, but his boiler room was much bigger than a baboon's! Well this dog didn't stop until he was behind a tree. No big deal, in these troops there's always another dog just a moment away. I could see one a couple hundred yards off on the far side of the river. No good way to get to him though. Then guess who pops up from a patch of grass? That's right, bachelor number 3. On 9x this was going to be a chip shot. I settled the infernal amber triangle high in his back, figuring to knock his plumbing loose. I settled in and squeezed off the shot. Perfect...except the damned chamber was empty. "Click" instead of "Bang" is some loud. I got the rifle loaded and stinkeyed my brother (though it may well have been my fault initially) and settled back in on the still ambivalent baboon. I squeezed off the shot and it was pandemonium. Chacmas everywhere going this way and that. My guy went down like he was hit by lightning. When things settled down a female came over to my guy and gave him a look before walking up the bank and sitting down. When we were sure that everything was done we approached. It was then that I came to realize that the baboon hasn't got much of a neck and that "high back" can turn into "back of the toque" with just a little crosshair creep. I hit him in the back of the neck, exiting right around the medulla oblongata. After the fact we found a few puzzle pieces that used to form part of his skull but thankfully the skull remained largely intact. Besides, a skull with the back blown out will likely come in handy when some 16 year old comes around to take my daughter out some day! This bugger was big, feeling like he weighed around 100 lbs or a hair more. Serious character too... he had obviously been in a fight some years ago and had a nasty cut from about 2" up his snout (clear into his nostril) down through his lip. Nasty. Hopefully it shows up in the pics.
Later that afternoon Matt headed off with Gibbo after some Impala we had seen crossing the road. After what seemed like a long time we heard the shot and headed to the scene. No impala there but there was some blood. I started feeling pretty bad because we had run out of softpoints the day before and Matt waded into this job unaware that he had a solid up the spout. Fortunately we only followed blood for a couple of hundred yards when we saw him lying under a tree, stone dead. Matt was crestfallen, thinking that he had shot a small one as the horn tips tilted in rather that straight up or splaying out. Boy was he wrong. As we dragged him out and got looking at him we knew that we had finally found a stud Impala, rather than the 18"-18" guppies we had been seeing. When all was said and done they measured him at 24 1/2". Skookum by anyone's definition and big enough to qualify for the Rowland Ward book, should Matt care to enter him.
As the hunt wore down things were very casual. We tried for Hyena some more but after a disastrous morning where Matt shot and wounded two hyena within an hour our luck at getting them in dried up. But we spent a lot of time in pursuit of bushbuck or kudu, which I told Gibbo that I'd shoot if we found a really big one. And I had thought about taking an Impala, despite shooting one in RSA three years ago. We had stalked dozens of groups of Impala but never had a shot at a decent one. But with hunting, persistence often pays off. On the last day of our hunt some Impala crossed the road as only Impala can cross a road - at a flat gallop and flying through the air like birds as they jumped. We set off after them and thus started a stalk where we saw them three times, the last one with the herd heading over a ridge ahead of us. We sprinted up the hill and all I could think was that when we got to the top I wasn't sure that I'd have my wind back in time to make the shot. As we came to the top of the ridge the Impala started to file out. Ewe after ewe came out in front of us and finally the ram came out, turned away, stopped and looked back at us. As I centered the reticle on him, I willed him to turn, to show me some shoulder or something that I could shoot him through, rather than his backside. Gibbo whispered to me "Whack him" and all I could think was "in the @ss?" But I did what anyone should do, I centered the reticle in line with where his important bits should be and squeezed off the shot. He folded up like any animal I'd spine shot before. It looked like his legs lifted up before he fell to the ground. We approached and after looking him over and a futile attempt to shout to the waiting car, Gibbo left me there to go retrieve the trackers and Matt and Mom. As I sat on the top of that rocky hill with my hand on my beautiful Impala ram and looking out at the vast beauty of the Chewore Safari area I couldn't help but feel that it couldn't get any better. My only regret was that my father, the man who introduced me to hunting and the outdoors, wasn't there to share it with me. As I was joined for photos by my mom and brother I turned to Matt and said "Well, I think we're done". What a way to end a safari. Tell me I'm wrong.
But you know what they say…hunters plan, and God laughs.
We were out cruising, just around dark, looking for a baboon for Matt's buddy, Baboon. Yes, I gave him that nickname and there's a story there. Anyhow, I took a shot at a baboon and winged him. We waded into the ever darkening bush trying to follow the blood but eventually ran out of light and blood. Not a good way to end a hunt. As we walked back to the truck, fairly casually, Gibbo waved me up. It was 6:10PM and damn near dark. But Robert had spotted a Civet Cat on the sand 40 yards away. Gibbo asked Richard, our Game Scout, if there was enough light and if it was still legal. Little Richard gave us the go ahead and I jumped onto the sticks. I hadn't ever intended to shoot a Civet, but this was one of those times that the sound you hear is opportunity knocking. OPEN THE DAMN DOOR! The amber triangle settled just so (and this was one of those shots that would have been impossible with a non-lighted reticle) and I squeezed off the shot. I saw the Civet turn to flee as I cycled the action and rammed off another shot at him as he headed up the bank. We ran and jumped the water in the river to get to where we'd last seen the Civet. I saw the ditch dug by the 300 grain DGS bullet. As we got to the bank Gibbo spied the Civet, stone dead. I didn't get a good look to see if I hit him with the second shot, but the first did it's job. Gibbo said that he hadn't shot one with a client in almost three years and it wwas only the second one he'd ever taken with a client. From a guy that's been a PH for 20-odd years, that makes it even more special. What an amazing trophy to end the hunt.
So there it is. Hope you all have enjoyed.
Fantastic post! Thank you for sharing.
- Location
- land of f-cktards
awesome pics thanks for sharing
Nice pics. It brings back memories of when I was there last. However what we was hunting shot back. I'm glad to know that several decades gone by has made it once again safe for industry and tourism. Although I would never personally go back, that looks like an awesome hunting trip and memories to last a lifetime.
BigUglyMan
CGN Ultra frequent flyer
- Location
- New Scotland
So come clean, did you shoot a hair-lipped baboon?
I didn't know it at the time, but, yes, I guess so.`
BigUglyMan
CGN Ultra frequent flyer
- Location
- New Scotland
Beautiful and affordable. Hard not to hunt them when the opportunity arises. Also helps that they're tasty to boot!
