"Buffalo Hunt at Gan Gan" - Day 2

"Zaberdast" the "Indian Gentleman" WJ Jeffrey .450 No. 2 NE with its prey.

Waking up in Arnhemland - one of the remotest places on Earth. There is something about being in a remote area. We all should do it more often.

Today we would drive the same direction as the previous morning but try to get to the open wetlands. The fog was lying on the land again but a bit less thickly than the previous day so hope was there that it would lift earlier.

A light blanket of fog lies on the forest as the sun burns it off

Down the road through the creek in 4WD and through the savannah bush.

The fog lifted as we drove and bulls are seen to the side. Glassing them it was determined they were OK but a little smaller than hoped for so off again. This was repeated several times. New bulls sighted, not seen the previous day, some seen again and rejected again, the bulls wander through the bush feeding. Sometimes near the road other times in the hinterland as a reservoir for future hunters.

No turns aside this day we approach the open expanse of grassy wetlands mid-moring through a shallow curtain of forest. Alighting from the ‘cruiser taking day packs, rifles, water and ammo we make our way along a sandy ridge. Moving down closer to the water some buffalo can be seen on the far shore. Looking along the spit of land black shapes in the distance. A couple of large buffalo.

Walking quietly through the trees we make our way towards them but Matt suddenly stops us and glasses towards the wetlands. A strip of paperbarks forms a line of trees in the swamp before the main expanse of grass but what is in front of us catches our attention. A good sized buffalo!

When he turns and looks away we make our way through the bush down to the edge of the “shore”. He is obviously a buffalo to consider and his horns as he looks away from us protrude well out from his body and reach back into nice crescents. I decide "yes, he is one I want to try for."

The bull lies down in the mud wallowing with his legs up into the air before settling down seemingly to go to sleep.

The bull resting after a wallow. We ponder our approach

From where we are there is nothing but open ground. First dry hard baked mud worked up by buffalo hooves. Then some grassy tuffs and the mud becomes wetter. Then shallow water. The bull is perhaps 150 metres from us with the paperbarks another 50 metres on then deeper water. Could we approach him as he lies facing away from us. Maybe, but if we are sighted there is absolutely no cover. In addition a good hundred metres would be through noisy water and mud.

Another buffalo bull also good is noticed to our right. Steve is interested in him and we wonder whether a one-two could be effected. “Not without loosing both capes” says Matt referring to the hot sun and warm weather. Would have been a great photo opportunity though, but probably a little hard to get them to fall down side by side (I love those photos!).

The first bull moves to chase the challenger

The other bull approaches towards the “sleeping” bull and up he gets. We may have a fight on our hands. Moving quickly towards the other the challenging bull turns and flees into the strip of paperbarks. We too shadow the bulls in the trees trying to keep sight of them. Thrashing splashing water can be heard as the big bull pushes through chest deep water pursueing the smaller bull. They move some 400 metres around a promontory of out-thrust trees.

Catching up to them they have added a good hundred metres on their distance to us though they are still in the strip of paperbarks which is now further away. The smaller bull has managed to maintain the distance from the other and they now are at a stand-off. They settle down in the cool wet deep mud to escape the hot midday sun. We too retreat to the shade and discuss a plan of attack. Only two options, look for another bull or wait them out and see what happens. We decide to wait them out so Matt fetches the vehicle and brings it to the top of the rise where we can keep watch.

The two bulls face off, one on the far left, the other on the far right

Beef sandwiches and cool softdrinks in the shade we keep an eye on the buffalo. The smaller buffalo saw the vehicle as it approached but is not alarmed. The other has his head down. We too take a siesta with occasionally one of us getting up to see if the buffalo have moved. All of us catch a couple hours sleep or read novels. My current one is Frederick Forsythe's latest novel of short stories. Great for any safari.

Where are the buffalo?

Still out there. While the herons provide an early warning signal against danger they also give away the buffalos position. The small one to the right is so deep in the water than his curved horns appear to be floating on the surface of the water. The other is also sunk well into the mud with just his head visible among the paperbarks.

Something is happening. This is what we feared. The smaller buffalo after a jolly good sleep rises and thrusts his way out into the reeds into deeper water and out of reach. Across in the distance numerous buffalo can be seen feeding. But we can't go that way, for that direction 'salties' (saltwater crocodiles) lurk.

The other buffalo stays put for a while and then amazingly begins to retreat back the way he came, intent of feeding on the succulent shoots growing among the paperbark strip. Having chased off and out-waited his contender he is intent on returning to his territory.

The target bull feeds zig-zagging through the paperbarks in the swamp

We ready for action and having lost sight of him return to our previous position. He doesn’t move out away from us but is still paralleling the land. Now we have a chance!

Quickly moving along the land we reach a spot where some trees grow out into the muddy clearing. Making as much use of the cover as we can we move when the bull faces away from us eventually having to make a quick run across open space as the bull feeds away from our direction. Through the water and mud into the knee deep swamp another 50 metres to the trees. Now the paperbark strip now shields us from his view and we can cautiously make our way through the thin trees, pulling one leg out of the sucking mud and carefully stepping forward trying to make as little noise as possible. When one hits a buffalo track it is important to keep ones balance and not fall due to the increased depth.

We make our way maybe 100 metres until we are opposite to Steve who is standing dressed in camo by a tree. The bull has zig-zagged his way though the paperbarks cutting down the distance between us. We can now see the bull some sixty metres in front of us but getting a shot would be difficult with the screen of trees. A gap in the trees needs to be crossed and as the bull feeds out towards open swamp we do this, the opening being deeper from numerous buffalo passing that way. Again another gap freezing when the bull is facing towards us is also crossed.

The bull is definitely making it easier for us. He is a glutton and intent on filling a hollow stomach not taking much time to glance around. With his head down and his horns towards us he also gives us some cover. Obviously the reason for the buffalo stand-off is some very choice tucker in these paperbarks.

Earlier we had discussed shooting a buffalo. Penfold stressed to try to break the buffalos shoulders and to give the buffalo a quick one-two with the double. Not to shoot and wait and see and then fire again but instead give a quick double tap. Matt agreed and also advised strongly to try to shoot the buffalo when he was facing towards land and not out into open wetland. Sage advice which I remembered at this point.

The buffalo had stopped and stared intently at the land. Incredibly he appeared to have spotted Steve even though Steve had never moved a muscle and it was hard enough for us to spot him in camo in the shadows. A slight gust of wind from the shore may have brought human scent to the old boy. He resumed feeding but stopped to look from time to time. I now thought this might actually aid us. The bull was suspicious of the far tree-line but was ignoring two hunters hidden and motionless only forty metres away. He fed away towards the open swamps.

Taking a stand in the open fork of a tree I rested the rifle in it and waited. Matt asked whether I had a clear shot and I whispered back I would wait for the buffalo to turn. He had been consistently zig-zagging through the strip of trees and I did not see why he would not turn again. He did and I waited for him to move from behind some trees into an opening only about 30 metres in front of us. The sound of his cropping the water-grasses and his movement in the water was clearly heard. If all went to plan he would be broadside to us at that point.

The bull stepped out from the trees (I get shivers as I write this) and out into the open. I have the Jeffrey raised resting the side of my left hand on the tree trunk and sight along the flat double barrels aligning the shallow V, the foresight and the shoulder of the buffalo. I adjust the site downwards to adjust for the rifle shooting high. The safety is off and I fire, pulling the front trigger.

KABOOM,

the rifle drives me back a step and the barrels point to the sky. Maybe my footing was less sure than I thought. As the rifle recoils I see the buffalo drop as if brain shot. He drops like a lump of lead.

Lowering the muzzles I aim to take a second shot. Pull the rear trigger, nothing, not even a click. WTF! I open the action and hear it click, maybe somehow the left barrel wasn’t cocked? I aim again and fire. Nothing except a click. WTF! This time I say it. Opening the action I see the primer has been fired. Damnation a double discharge. Now I realise the reason for the step back on firing. Reloading both barrels with two more .450 No 2 rounds I aim and fire. During this time the bull has not lain silent. After the initial shock he has recovered and tried to rise thrashing around getting his shoulders out of the mud. Again KABOOM, this time I know it, two rounds again have gone off. But another dose of 960 grains (2 x 480 grs) of Woodleigh Weldcore softpoints at 2150 fps have a similar effect. Again he goes down heavily into the muddy water.

Matt suggests loading only one barrel this time to which I readily agree. The bull is still not dead but is quiet for a while. He begins to visibly recover. It is evident his shoulders are both broken so I attempt to shoot down into his spine over his thrashing head. I make a bad shot and hit him to the right of the crest of his backbone. I borrow Matt’s .458 and shoot him in the head just above his eyeline using the scope. He is stil but then again shows evidence of life. By now I had moved to the right of the bull and could see Steve making his way to us directly in line behind the bull.

The bull is down.

Posing with the bull in the mud after an exciting hunt.

I had given Matt back his rifle so I suggested he put another in and the bullet goes in between the eyes. The bull really by now wasn’t going anywhere and he was not thrashing anywhere as much but why take a chance. The guys up here have had bulls which didn’t blink their eyes when checked get up after the trophy photos and when they were starting to skin!

Later when the bull’s head was skun out, my shot which made a bigger hole was no longer visible. Only one bullet hole was in the buffs skull, the first shot having ricocheted off the hard bone! It wasn’t into the boss but evidently the skull was still thick enough with the angle above the eyes.

Now the real work begins. The bull is halfway in mud and water. We cover him with light branches to keep the hot sun off the headskin while getting ready and thankfully Steve has brought a water bottle. Matt begins to cut through his thick skin behind the shoulders and down as low as he can on both sides and Steve begins to flay off the skin on one side as I begin on the other. The idea is to take as much of the cape off the top and then do something about the bottom of the shoulders and neck. Trying to avoid Matt having to crawl under the buff and cape it out under the water (yes this might be required). The three of us putting shoulder to the buffalo and taking hold of each of its knees manage to roll it enough to get the left side of the shoulder out of the muddy bloody water. Surprisingly it isn’t as hard as one thought before trying. One side down, now the other side. Steve being a PhD has a brilliant idea, one of the two this afternoon (the other being to open the tailgate of the landcruiser and not throw the skin and skull up higher than we had too ;-) ). His first idea is to remove the shoulder of the buffalo and when we roll him back it should be much easier. This proves a very useful tip and soon the right side of the cape is off the neck and shoulder.

The shoulder is being removed to aid in rolling the buffalo over to cape the other side. Matt wields the knife as Steve holds up the leg.

Next choice. To cape out the skull or carry it out. A buffalo’s cape weighs some 40 kgs so Matt decides to cape out the skull. We are aided in removing the skull of the buffalo by its having no rear of skull left. It is completely smashed and the spine does not even need to be severed as the back of the skull collapses as we twist and turn it. a few cuts of the knife and the head is free. While Matt finishes the caping Steve and I carry out the rifles, cameras, and extra gear. Between us we then carry out the cape, while Matt getting the skull on his shoulders brings the skull out through the mud. A better man than me. Reaching the hard ground as I get to him I offer him a drink and then we carry the skull to the ‘cruiser. This is the time of Steve’s second great idea.

A shot of whiskey each of celebration courtesy of Steve and Laphroaig then back to camp where we have a great dinner, celebrating the successful hunt with a Montecristo No. 2 each courtesy of me. To the skinning shed for cleaning up of the headskin and an initial salting. A tape measure comes out and the circumference of the base of each horn is measured plus its length. 106 inches. Not too bad at all. I won’t be throwing this one back in. The second best head taken that season. Also I am told I am the first Aussie hunter to hunt at Gan Gan for over twenty years.

Tomorrow will be a slow start with boiling out of the skull and any further cleaning of the cape before Steve gets a chance to take his buffalo.

I am happy, more than happy but as often happens also a little sad about the ending of a great hunt and the wait until the next one.