This is my oldest, if not ugliest buffalo. He was an old loner who liked to take his afternoon siesta in a clump of bushes. One of the local herdsmen had spotted him and led us to his bower. I set up on one side of the bushes, everyone else started yelling and throwing rocks from the other side. He came thundering out of the bushes right in front of me, somewhat down hill. I put four .505 solids in him as he went past, and he stopped so suddenly that he plowed up the ground with his nose. This was in Kenya, 1974, just before the bell tolled for hunting there.