JB (larcher) In Zimbabwe - 2007

Date of Hunt: 29th July to 19th August, 2007. 18 hunting days

Location: Zimbabwe, Charara camp, Nyamuswa and Kwekwe.

Animals Taken: Buffalo, impala, zebra, wart hog, wildebeest, bushbuck, leopard, and elephant
Game Hunted But Not Taken: sable and kudu
Game Not Hunted: eland, duikers,

Weapons:
JB 375HH Sauer 202 & a 100# Bowtech Tribute bow;
Luc 416 Rigby CZ550.

Outfitter: cmsafaris : Charlton McCallum www.cmsafaris.com
PHs: Buzz Charlton, Ryan Cox, Tristan Peacock and Innocent.
Booking Agent: Chassorbis
Travel Agent: « Chassorbis» » www.chassorbis.fr/

HUNT SUMMARY

My cousin Luc and I are hunting together every year in Africa. We hunted twice at Touffic’s camp in Burkina Faso, and twice at Kotto safari in the C.A.R..

Back fron the CAR with Kotto Safaris

The Bongo that damned well near killed me!

This year we decided to look and see in the south of Africa for different game. As last year I came back from the CAR very sick from the Chikungunya virus and as my recovery was very slow, I decided to have the nicest hunt possible that I can afford because I was not sure to remain fit enough to hunt on in Africa. The most appealing hunts were for elephant and thanks to this forum I chose Buzz Charlton the specialist of elephant hunting, and Tristan Peacock, the specialist for hunting leopards with hounds.

Buzz Charlton and Tristin Peacock

To rough it up I opted for the bow and arrow.

As well I wanted what had eluded me for 4 years, a bushbuck. My cousin was looking for a Cape buffalo, wildebeest, zebra and kudu or sable. I have hunted red buffalos in Western Africa but a cape buffalo has more flavour and I made my mind for ……..2 zebras because my twins want a zebra hide each.

A ten hour flight finds us in Johannesburg in the morning. Unfortunately we were delayed and missed the plane for Harare at noon. Consequently we spent the afternoon in the airport.

In the evening we were welcomed by Clara in Harare and spent the night in a nice lodge in the green outskirts of Harare. Breakfast with Buzz, no need to introduce him, he is so well known. A charming young man very polite and ever smiling although very methodic, organized and tough and tenacious, served by plenty of experience, he has shot over 400 elephants, let alone other dangerous game. We had to go shopping as we had recovered from the airport only the gun-bow case, no ammo, no scopes, no hunting gear and no clothes. Buzz lent us shirts and we bought trousers, hat, washing and shaving kits. In the afternoon a bush plane flew us to Kariba airport where the rest of the hunting team welcomed us and drove us to Charara camp, a drive of about 45 minutes

Ryan Cox, a PH, will be our cameraman; Innocent, PH, will guide Luc, along with a seasoned Italian hunter who will be Luc’s interpreter, Luc doesn’t speak English. And of course Crighton the tracker and Eddy the driver.

Charara camp, a nice camp on the shore of the Kariba Lake that will be our base as long as we get a buffalo each.

First morning we went and sighted in our rifles. Luc was impeded by not having his scope but performed well. Not so for me. My first and second shots were delayed, a second or 2. I had to work my action a couple of times to have it correctly functioning. Bad, especially when the rifle has been stripped and cleaned by a gunsmith. This rifle never jammed and has been my workhorse in Africa and often in France for driven hunts.

Ryan, the cameraman, was sent with Luc. Luc is often lucky and there were more chances that he got his buff before I did. They tracked 2 dagga boys in the Mopani country, meandering between elephants that sometimes obliterate the tracks and climbed a huge hill and when approaching a second hill they noted the buffs had split. They opted for the biggest spoor and ascended the second hill. From the ridge they quickly spotted the dagga boy having a nap. Luc staying over and behind the buffalo shot him at 70m. The bull shivered and clumsily got up and left. Luc tried to reload, no way, the cartridge won’t chamber. There was a 416 Weath among Luc’s cartridge. Francesco was asked to shoot and he clobbered the trotting away buffalo. They waited a couple of minutes and pursued him. Luc had to shoot him twice in the torso to put him down but he was not dead yet and he finished him, a bullet into the neck. 4 hours and 30 minutes to shoot a buffalo, compliment, it’s fast. A nice representative old dagga boy. Luc was happy, he used to pepper his buffalos. Buffalo are so fine that they deserve plenty of lead. They had lunch downhill and Luc was beginning to resent climbing a hill again but when hunting, some efforts are part of the show. Luc was now out of business, only buffalo could be hunted in Charara. Francesco his interpreter offered him to go fishing on Lake Kariba. Francesco has a 30foot houseboat and a speedboat not far away on the Kariba shore.

All day long, we once again went after buffalo. The tracking was tricky, plenty of leaves on the ground. Worse in august the wind is fickle. The buffs either heard us plodding in the leaves or winded us long before we could catch up or oxpeckers or go away birds would warn them when the spooring had been fast and successful. The strategy was to spoor a couple of dagga boys right from the road and to try and catch up with them. If they got away, we would carry on once or twice again. Then we would look for another bunch of dagga boys and if unlucky again, we’d pursue the previous buffs who had had time to calm down and to forget about us.

Upon arrival back in camp, a surprise: Mr. John Sharp was there with 2 Texans : Bob and his son Jay. They were in Charara for a buff each. John is a mountain of a human, I wrongly imagined a bully; definitely not so. A really charming soft speaking guy, astute and full of humour. I spent 4 evenings with him and I had much fun and interest in his stories. Especially during sundowners’ time, indulging in cold beer over the Kariba, hearing hippos and the odd lion roaring. Definitely a very nice fellow. I’ll remember the last sentence he enounced: “Now full control and piece of mind” about he and both clients before flying (in John’s airplane) to a conservancy where game is more predictable than buffalos in Charara.

Day 3, when close to the buff, I cocked my rifle, Capstick’s way……….. and the bullet flew loose skyward. Definitely, the rifle was unsafe, we had to pick Buzz’s 375HH Blaser in the camp. I don’t like Blaser rifles but I have to admit that this one is a pure delight: very light, very accurate and a fine 3*7 Leupold.

As I was not accustomed to the rifle, I fumbled when close to a nice buff and we lost a precious opportunity. Luc was disgusted, he is a Blaser fan and very capable and fast with this rifle. We scouted the shore of the lake and came across on 2 kudus’ skeletons.

Nice trophies, one a 57 incher. A couple of minutes later we discovered the dried body of a kudu female that explained the whole thing. She had been snared……….as had the two boy friends. During 30 minutes we removed about 10 snares from this location. That’s really a disgusting thing. These animals didn’t even feed the bastards who set the snares and didn’t check them. They are deadly contraptions that will kill during a couple of years when let unattended. And for whose profit? Hyenas and vultures…..mainly.

Day 3 Luc enjoyed an enchanting trip on Kariba, seeing many hippos and elephants and having nice fishing in the speed boat. Not successful in the beginning, Francesco spotted the boat of a prominent angler, many times a winner of competitions. Immediately he neared his boat and moored to the champion’s boat. Sure it helps to share a champion’s hot spot. And they were lucky, Luc catching 6 bream, not more for he was not mastering the fishing technique. In the evening they ate their fish and spent the night in a cozy hotel.

Not so for us. Of course plenty of sun, but no lazing about and plenty of cold beers but hard tracking, buff after buff to no avail.

To make it short, 5 days along with Murphy on our side. Day 6, after using all the possible tricks we caught up with 2 buffs eventually, thanks to a wart hog. Funny show, a wart hog fully concentrated on digging the ground between two dagga boys. The digging noise was covering our treading noise and we could approach to 70 yards. I struggled a bit to choose the best animal and then let fly. Immediately, the buffs bolted our way and swerved to the right and climbed a small hill. I tried to shoot again but was slow to tell which buff was the wounded one. Eventually, the buff fell down for good. He managed to run 40m with my Swift A frame having shattered the upper heart and the large vessels.

.

Tough animal indeed, an old dagga boy with worn off horns and one eyed at that. What a joy for all of us. 6 days scouting either the shores or the flats or the valleys or the hills in jesse or nearly bald hills, either freezing or roasting at noon. Going from excitation to disappointment again and again from 6A.M. to 6 P.M.. I must add that we always keep a good mood. Disappointment never lead us to use bad language, we never vent out any frustration. The last day, I have to admit that I didn’t want to hunt buff any longer but didn’t express it to Buzz until the buff was down. Buzz answered that he never hunted a buff during such a long time and wouldn’t have let go. Buzz is most tenacious and capable. He is an outstanding tracker, easily competing with his outstanding trackers. Just one reproach, even though he likes to spoor buff and zebras, he never will miss an elephant, leopard or lion track. He loves these animals even more and it was always a cause of pulling his leg when he diverted from buff spoor. And bull elephants, bet they are aplenty in Charara.

Mid afternoon, we hopped across to Buzz’s concession Makuti. A really cozy comfortable camp in hilly country. Next day we headed to Nyamuswa estate joining Luc and Francesco. They hunted hard behind sables and kudus but were being outsmarted.

A really nice camp, more than a camp, a beautiful lodge and a beautiful dining room with a nice vista over a large meadow where 16 Arab horses idle freely among the odd bushbuck and the inevitable baboons. During the night they can be heard galloping from a marauding leopard. Why leopard? Because we heard it sawing at night.

The concession is mostly hills closing narrow valleys or thorny bush (Mapangara, the thorn that rhino and giraffe love, also the shelter for buffalos and elephants) and a vlei in the remotest part of the area. Animals find water at springs or troughs fed by bores or in a couple of dams.

The first afternoon we scouted the area to look for ele spoor. Buzz is mad about spooring ele and cats, it’s for him second nature. We picked some bull ele spoor out, which was very encouraging. When driving back home, we disturbed an old bull nearby the road, and a good one at that, a big bodied carrying tusks over 40pds. A beaming Buzz declared he’ll be our quarry.

The next day we scouted the area again for ele spoor and entered the thorny expanse (I call the thorny nightmare) following ele bulls. In 20 minutes we caught up with them, or more precisely 4 bulls drifted toward us. It’s amazing how effortlessly and fast these huge beasts can surge from thorn trees just like ships on the ocean. Not so with us, the thorns preventing us from retreating. Guess who was running the show? Our old friend the big bull we saw yesterday. Fortunately they were just curious and at 15 yards they turned back and disappeared in the scrub. Shamefaced, we gave up for the day, the bulls were alerted.

The morrow we carried on spooring bull elephants and leopards. I was badly wanting to arrow a leopard and we had to pick some good leopards’ tracks before the houndsman, Tristan Peacock, AKA leopardman, arrived. In the afternoon, when checking a waterhole, I had the opportunity to shoot an old bushbuck.

I was looking for one for four years. Imagine how joyful I was, especially with a very old grey critter, same age group as my buffalo. Moreover it’ll provide supreme bait for the leopard. As the trackers were attending to the bushbuck Buzz and I carried on spooring when Ryan called. He just had heard branches being broken close by. No doubt elephants were feeding. Buzz asked me to arrange my kit and be ready to swoop on them. After all I was supposed to be here and eager to hunt elephants. Not exactly the case for two reasons. First the sun was going down and second because it was once again

in the thorny nightmare from where they have ejected us. Stealthily the five of us, Buzz and Crighton the tracker, Ryan the cool cameraman, the scout who wouldn’t in any case miss the opportunity and I sneak into the spiny scrub tiptoeing on dry leaves doing our best not to be scratched or immobilized by one inch long thorn. 500 yards of careful approach led us to a feeding bull. Bingo it was our old friend, facing us and hardly concerned by our presence though he kept on looking at us. At 20m from the bull, Buzz invited me to shoot as soon as possible, the light diminishing. I must confess that I am scared by elephants. It comes from our hunts in Burkina Faso where the “preserved” elephants were prone to bully or charge us especially when I was toting either a camera or a pitiful knife.

No shot possible, the brush being too dense. We neared to about 12m and froze. The only possible aperture was on the right of the bull, should he walk about15m. For 10 minutes we waited glaring at one another, the ele munching leisurely and seeming to study us. Eventually he decided to move to the right, Murphy has definitely left us. When his armpit met the aperture in the brush I let fly. The bull trumpeted, turned in our direction……….then turned back and dashed away, seemingly leading other bulls in his wake. Emotion overwhelmed me. I have trained one year long, shooting every morning and evening for this moment that even haunted my dreams.

I felt good; the shot was easy at 12m. Buzz felt content but esteemed the arrow has plowed a bit back. I protested, I was mesmerized by his armpit and planting an arrow in a 10 inches target at 12m is a walk in the park. Ryan solved the difference of opinion on showing us the footage. The arrow hit too far back. In fact the clean aperture in the brush was not so open. A stem of grass has deflected the arrow. Most of the arrow’s energy is stocked in the front. The shaft provides a long lever and anything brushing the fletching renders the arrow wild. We left very excited by this grave and serious moment, hoping an artery could have been severed and the bull will be dead tomorrow morning.

The dinner’s discussion was lively, especially fed by Tristan who is a remarkable bowhunter, and the night was particularly long for me.

At the first peep of daylight we struck on the bull’s spoor. On the ground were lying pieces of my shattered arrow but no trace of the broadhead. The blood trail was no longer than 100 m. The long task of spooring was on its way. Here, the terrain is especially bad for spooring, due to plenty of trampled dry grass and rocks. Only some trails keep the spoor. The four bulls were on their own and intended to go down a long valley. After about 2 km we saw one drop of blood, the last we’ll see during the whole day. We climbed hills and plunged into another valley. We never saw so difficult a tracking job. The bulls were meeting other elephants and parting, sometimes one leaving and joining the group again. Ryan, Buzz, Crighton and the scout were peeling their eyes and we could have believed them to be genuine liars, we couldn’t see and unravel any sort of tracks. God how skillful they are. Incredible job. At lunchtime, without any lunch handy, we hit the communal zone, out of the concession. We will now have to spoor on matted dry grass only, sheer madness. In the middle of the afternoon, Buzz and Crighton let us rest under the guard of Ryan for the spoor had merged with tracks of tens of elephants. 30 minutes later came the unmistakable noise of broken branches in the forest nearby. We bunched together and cautiously enter the wood. One bull was visible, we had to advance up to under his trumpet to note that it was not our quarry. Immediately, a herd of 30-40 elephants came out of the blue toward us and we had to retreat fast. Buzz and Crighton assaulted the cop once again in vain. We brainstormed a moment, and once again Buzz and Crighton explored the forest and called us, they have found the 4 bulls. As soon as I saw them, I asked Buzz to shoot the wounded bull. I was very concerned with the indigenes we could hear around and I was scared that flushing the elephants will have the poor guys unaware of pissed of elephants in the vicinity and getting trampled. Buzz reinsured me, making clear that he was handling the situation. We approached the bulls, mine was the first to be seen, the 3 others behind him. We neared at 15m of the bull. He was displaying a blood splash just in front of his left hind leg. I did my best to find a shooting window, no way the brush was too dense. We decided that I had to brain him. I set myself in front of him, at about 20m, and thoroughly aimed, my 375HH cradled into the tripod. When about to shoot, the bull lifted his head, I corrected for the height to keep in line with the brain and shot. The bull stumbled and veered on the left to be caught high in the lungs by a solid from Buzz’s 416 Rigby Ruger. The staggering bull left along with his 3 pals in a cloud of dust. We were elated but not Buzz who rushed behind them and finished the bull. Not good to let a p***ed off wounded bull play havoc in the villages.

What a hulk of a bull. Really a big bodied bull, not exactly the sort roaming in this part of the country. Was it out of a national park? The tusks are thick and fairly long, a 45-50 pounder. Could be pushing 50 for he looks like an old one, especially the sole of his feet displaying deeps cracks and old guys have small nerve in their tusks consequently more ivory. In fact the arrow has entered too far back in the belly and zipped straight trough the abdomen and exited just in front of the left hind leg, keeping enough peps to shatter into the branches. My bullet hit just a trifle on the right of the brain. The height was good, I properly followed the brain when the bull lifted his head unfortunately I didn’t observe that he slightly turned his head on the left. Just one or two centimeters but as very likely the bull had read Pondoro, he knew the knock out power of a 375HH is not enough to unplug him.

How content and elated we were feeling. We tracked him down for 8 hours without stopping, our expectations (at least mine) going high and low alternately. Now we were dog tired but overwhelmed by joy. Nothing can express how glad I felt. The more we walked the more I feared either we lost the track or a poor naïve guy would be gored or crushed. Ryan had told me of a 50km pursuit behind a wounded bull he succeeded with, not reinsuring, and worse, that our bulls were making towards a bombing area used by the Zimbabwe air force. Bad for the moral, best for present joy. I am most pleased with this bull but I’ll rather remember the fantastic, incredible tracking job Buzz’s team performed. That has to be seen to be fully appreciated.

2 hours of fast walking (it reminded us of our service in the army) to the car and dinner’s celebration and happiness. Buzz produced some cigars. Good wine and cold beers closed a day that I’ll remember for ever.

Celebration evening : Ryan, JB, Francesco, Buzz

Buzz and Tristin : transfer of “PHship”.

Next day Buzz and his team supervised the butchering of the carcass. For the locals it was like Christmas. For months they have been craving for meat. The government is prone to apply Price Control. It consists in authoritatively dropping prices of goods to a stupidly low level. A beef carcass should be sold for the price of a bottle of scotch. Consequently no farmers are selling their stock any longer. Best of all, it was the second day of a 4 day long national feast, fallen heroes feast. They will gorge themselves. Actually all around we will see ribbons of meat drying in the court of every house even in remote places. A treat in exchange of our punishment. Yes, we were punished; all the folks have bought all the beer available. Francesco drove more than 100 miles to bring only 17 bottles of beer. We ran short on beer but we have never been deprived.

Now comes Tristan’s show. We had previously selected two leopards stamping tracks like lioness’ ones. The roads and trails have been thoroughly swept out, using the Toyotas towing a thorn tree and a tractor dragging 3 huge tires.

At dawn with Buzz we checked one part of the territory, digging up the spoor of the big tom roaming around the camp and shooing the horses. Ryan hit old spoor close to the “thorny nightmare”. We opted for the camp leopard. Tristan uncoupled 4 hounds: 2 walkers (Ynia and Yellow) and 2 Jack Russells. His dogman holding at leash King the big bloodhound and 2 Jack Russells, keeping the young dogs in the Toyota. Sure that it’s beginning fast and hard, having almost to run across two fairly steep rocky hills. Luc and I, guarded by Buzz and Ryan, couldn’t sustain so fast a pace. Mostly we had to wait for Tristan’s instructions. Tristan stays close to his hounds, checking the spoor and foreseeing where the leopard will fly. In fact we are on spoor dating from the night, not a fresh one. The dogs have a long way before hitting the kitty. When the place where the panther has slept is found, we are on fresher spoor. Tristan will keep with his hounds and cool them down or boost them according to the comportment of the leopard. Today the spoor was too old and we have to give up after 4 hours of tracking. The leopard had too much head start and the heat of the day on rocky terrain was making the job harder and harder. We spent the afternoon cleaning roads and tracks, and even sweeping the shores of a waterhole where we hung the carcass of the bushbuck as bait.

Next day, Buzz left with Luc; destination KweKwe conservancy. Luc and Francesco worked very hard and wore off their shoes after kudu and sable to no avail. They are present but very, very smart. Now Ryan is in charge with Tristan. Ryan is a really wonderful guy. Strong and willful, helping tracking a lot (he is a licensed P.H) and very, very cool. Always in a good mood but respected (and he knows how) by the team. A splendid companion always smiling and very capable and decisive during hunting action. Once again we failed tracking the leopards, a male and a female have joined, a double compounded task for the dogs. We looked in the vlei for wildebeest or zebra but were outsmarted. Road sweeping again and we bumped on impalas. Ryan had me shoot a female for baiting but I only wounded her. We had to pursue her……..guess where? Again in the thorny nightmare. The scout and a helper were very reluctant, a grumpy old dagga boy owns the place and he has already lifted two guys, one of them being the scout. Ryan reinsured them in totting a 500 SW Desert Eagle pistol, a handgun that can stop a buff. Nonetheless we spoored until sundown. Incredible how an impala with a high broken front leg can elude us after having poured more than 2 liters of blood.

Next day we took the spoor at the bait and the leopards have the hounds scouting over the hills until once again we had to give up. Rocky terrain is bad for the scent and worse for the dogs’ feet.

We checked again the impala and lost the track. We were considering buying a donkey as an additional bait. We are really worried by the poor condition of the dogs’ slashed pads.

I spent a couple of times shooting arrows with Tristin. I am at a loss; I have under graded the power of my bow, no need for super power for the leopard. My arrows are lighter too, and the global result is that my bow is rendered hardly accurate. Tristan practiced with me and made a great impression. He is using two custom Matthews and shooting Easton arrows rigged with Hell Razor from NAP. Honestly I have seen very few archers shooting so accurately, be it at 25 or 50 yards. My morale grew low, however Tristan is a good teacher, very full of consideration and an encyclopedia bowhunting wisdom. He encouraged me endlessly so that I could consider being an acceptable bowhunter. And you have to be obedient and trustful to agree with him. Shooting at the leopard is an upward shot. Tristan, no less, advises to shoot 10 inches over the back of the leopard in an attempt to hit the animal under the ribcage and thus reaping the liver, the heart and one or two lungs. Shooting this high is lunacy for anybody but Tristan can boast over 400 leopards he has shot or been around; that’s quite a reference.

Day four hunting the leopard, Murphy is probably gone away with Buzz and Luc, we hit fresh spoor just out of the camp and the dogs rushed hot on his trail, Tristin and his head dogman behind. Ryan and I swooped down to the main road close by to check that the leopard wouldn’t run and hide beyond this road where no hunting is allowed. Luck again, we heard the barking following the road but not trespassing and heading where?............toward the thorny nightmare, of course. We hurried to the place where one of Tristan’s hands joined us. Good news, an old black leaving nearby tried and found the impala and was shooed away by a leopard’s angry grunt. The leopards are no longer acting as a couple. We scuttled in the direction of the barking although in hilly country the echo is very deceptive and we understood our error almost next hill from the hunt and went back. Tristan’s hand was pissed with Ryan totting his camera instead of the Desert Eagle and made it clear. He has been grunted at by the leopard crouched in a bush not 10 yards away one hour ago and was scared. He is a novice in Tristan’s team. Now we can hear the hounds put almost on the ridge of a hill. Without news from Tristan, Ryan was eager to go to the leopard that we thought had been treed. Not so, Tristan’s hand vehemently refused our going straight to the leopard, explaining that Tristan would be very cross, and that it was too dangerous, only a bow and a pistol against a pretty worked up cat. By chance we met with Tristan and contoured the hill to have a look at the cat. He was treed and really fuming. Ryan and Tristan peeled their eyes to ascertain for its sex. Definitely he was furious and jumped amid the dogs and made for the valley. Almost certainly has he scented us? I was disappointed. Luckily the barking descended the hill and concentrated right in a dry river bed not 300m yonder. Warily we turned around the hill to remain in the leeway of the cat. A smart cat really: he felt safe on a lonely tree surrounded by very thick scrub. No way to get through, too noisy either because of the branches brushing us or the brittle dry leaves on the ground. Opportunely a dry brook was snaking along by the tree. In single file Tristan, Ryan and I progressed on the sandy ground and suddenly Tristan stopped. He looked back at me and very solemnly asked me whether I want the leopard. I agreed. He asked again, and again I agreed insisting that were running after him for 4 days. Laconic, he said:

“He has seen us, the only solution is to go to the leopard”.

I feebly protested that for the moment I was hearing him spitting, grunting, roaring but I couldn’t see him.

“Never mind, you’ll see in time and as soon as you see him, shoot”.

So we’ll charge the leopard, weird casting, wasn’t he that was supposed to charge?

No time to answer, I just have to follow him. Tristan with a 416 Rigby and Ryan behind videoing and smartly adorned with the 500 SW.

We landed not quite under the cat that was actually gazing at us. I aimed well over the back ridge and the leopard roared and jumped, made a U turn on the big branch and went lying cradled on smaller branches. I was impatient to nock another arrow, not knowing whether my arrow has hit. Tristan ordered us to stay quiet, repeating” quiet”, “quiet”. The leopard was lying on the branches and I eventually saw blood flowing down. And slowly, like a scene in slow motion, the cat toppled over. Tristan was still running under the tree, having broken a branch of scrub and hitting the dogs pushed them back from the quivering and clawing leopard. Then he stuck the barrel of the Rigby firmly on the cat’s thorax. We waited a minute, keeping the dogs clear during the throes. They were keen to worry their prey, after all it was they which most deserve the trophy. 4 agonizing days slashing their foot pads and now exhausted beyond belief. I scrutinized Spots: not the whopper we were looking for, a dark orange coat and no balls. We have cornered the female, an old heavy mamma about 100-120#. Next Tristan got out of his reserve, beaming and he congratulated me for having made a one shot arrow kill. I was baffled for I would have sworn that most of the bowhunters just shoot once. Just the thing that Tristan won’t tell you before you have got your leopard. Later I’ll tell me a couple of stories of leopards inevitably charging.

Buzz and Tristan are similar. They bring you in spitting (or halitosis dixit P.H. Capstick) distance of dangerous game but they exude such confidence and expertise that despite a dwindling stamina you feel good and succeed. The mark of pros, making things looking easy and safe. They use to refrain from recounting hairy encounters and close shaves as long as you haven’t get your D.G.. Then they can write best sellers easily.

Ryan was beaming, perhaps more than I. During the approach he was sticking behind me and captured a very fine and animated video. I lived the final approach for real thanks to him. During the action and after, I was out of my mind.

Dogtired !!

The dogs had given all they could offer and now were finished, we had to carry Spencer the plucky Jack Russell.

No hunting during the afternoon, I declined Ryan’s invitation, we have to fully enjoy this fantastic leopard hunt.

Next day I felt very sad to part from Tristan. He is a very interesting buddy, really skillful and willful. We had plenty of time to enjoy his commitment to leopard hunting. He leaves almost nothing to chance, being a strategist with total control of his hounds at any moment. His GPS contains more than 2000 leopard’s patterns. Always thinking and calculating, by no means a dreamer or a gambler. His strong opinions could be bothering but in the end the facts force you to admit he is right. A square, no nonsense PH and a delightful companion.

On our way to Harare desolation along the road. Plenty of jobless people loafing about along the roads. Ryan explained that they grow more and more numerous. I inferred, the result of ………say unsuitable political decisions. One can see endless unattended farmland and shambles and about every 15 miles a green expanse denoting a not seized farm. I trust my cousin Luc, a horticulturist, who is shocked by such a waste in a land he describes as the land of plenty.

At Buzz and Myles’ office, I met other great people: the PHs Myles McCallum, his charming wife and cute young baby girl, a beauty for sure and Alan the third talented musketeer and the charming Charmain and Clara.

A 3 hour ride to Kwekwe without any trouble. I have to insist on the fact that Zimbabwe is very safe, nobody was disturbing us. Police are present but mainly totting speed trap pistols. They never stopped us. And no vets to be seen. We met again with Luc and Buzz and surprisingly Francesco who didn’t want to let Luc, who doesn’t speak English, and Buzz hunting without understanding each other. Francesco is a gentleman.

Luc has secured a nice impala and a good wart hog. Could be his aftershave, kudu eluded him. They worked hard on wildebeest dagga boys…almost in vain. Luc had a shot at them twice and every time shot some branches that deflected his solids. Some called him “the logger” behind his back.

We both hunted with Buzz, Crighton and Eddy. No luck with kudus and wildebeest the first day. They were flying keeping the wind at their back, all the time aware of our progressions. Should the wind whirl, they’ll bring us back at the place where we had begun tracking them. Foxy animals. So we opted for zebra and managed to approach a scatterbrain old male. Reluctantly and grumbling Luc shot it broadside. The most conspicuous evidence was a solid hit in a tree …………………….but with buckets of blood up to 6 feet high also. 100 yards further the zebra was recovered, a perfect lung shot.

The oldest zebra in Africa, not black and white, but black and yellowish. No ears any longer but just stumps. Luc was really annoyed, his wife and his 4 girls are fanatics about horses and have 3 Arab horses. Shooting a zebra is the worst no-no. Of course I videoed the shooting, then took pictures of the blood splashes, of the blood bubbling from the lung wound, of dismayed Luc with the trophy, of the dressed carcass (especially fine yellow fat and scarlet meat shining in the sun) and eventually Luc eating zebra tenderloins. Blackmail can help sometimes.

Next day was slaughter day. To begin with, Luc logged a couple of branches, the wildebeest dagga boy leaving unhurt. He redeemed himself in shooting another one facing us right in the low chest, the bullet entering the heart and stopping in the thigh. Could be the oldest wildebeest in Africa too, but a nice typical old dagga boy. We carried on tracking and following zebra I bumped onto a good impala ram facing us that I shot Luc’s way, right in the heart too. Not the time to savor my impala as we met 4 young zebras. An easy approach and I shot the first in the neck (thanks to the wind making the light Blaser drift) and the second broadside in the heart before they had made 100m.

Why two zebras? Because I have two kids who aren’t horse people and wanted a zebra hide. Fortunately they were young and not scarred, pristine white and black. No way to mistake them with Luc’s patriarch. At 9H30 A.M. we were back in camp with the Toyota overloaded. The skinners weren’t very enthralled of course.

No question about more hunting this day. We have had our dose and refused to go hunting, wanting to rejoice with our trophies. So we set out to remote kopjes to have a look at Bushmen paintings. Very interesting 300 – 500 years old drawings representing kudu, giraffe, eland, buffalo, baboons and bushmen. These paintings aren’t advertised, they are on private land for the benefit of hunters mostly and currently washed by wind and rain. Gradually they are disappearing.

We delivered zebra carcasses to the farmer. Kindly he offered us a bottle of pombe, the local beer, in a thermos flask, probably for our not seing the look of the mixture. Before dinner, we decided to have a go at it. Buzz declined, stating that there are more in it for eating than for drinking. He was right, not worth trying, nothing linked to any described beer.

The last day we scouted the conservancy after kudu. We ended on different hills to spot them with walkie talkies to communicate. We discovered 3 males and 4 females and tracked them down. Luc had only one opportunity on a very good male obscured by brush. As usual, his bullet hit the brush and the kudu left quietly and unscathed.

Our last evening, Francesco invited us and produced a fantastic Italian dinner, a real treat, most welcomed after 3 weeks in the bush. Definitely Francesco is an outstanding chef, a maestro.

We reluctantly parted with Buzz and Ryan. Outstanding guys. Luc proclaimed that he’d love that his 4 unmarried daughters choose husbands in Zimbabwe. Pioneer’s spirit, tough, daring, never depressed by hardships and perfect manners. What class these Buzz, Tristan and Ryan. No bending the rules, fair chase only .

As usual we crossed the customs like a dream and left for Joburg. Waiting there were the famous PH’s Jaco Human and Connie Viljoens who took care of our guns inside the airport enabling us to enjoy Jaco’s hospitality.

Jaco is a tall strong and slim guy very cheerful and graced with a charming wife and children. We were embarrassed to be greeted as heartily as close parents, an incredibly warm reception. The fridge’s door was bulging because it was packed with beers. We tasted some and Jaco exhibited a most puzzling bottle wrapped in barb wire, Marula liquor. We downed it in one go after falteringly blundering a toast in Afrikaans. Our first braat was really something. Jaco was the chef and we weren’t disappointed even though French are known to be picky. Jaco is also a very great raconteur and likes to have giant laughs. We drank more to the health of WINK who had left a pleasant memory. We were so happy that we didn’t care about the passing time and thanks to Jaco’s daughter we were hurried to the airport where Connie returned our gun case and helped to register with friendly customs officers.

Definitely a fantastic hunt with lovely PHs in a fine country.

Thanks a lot Stuart Campbell, AKA StuC, who spent a long boring time checking and mending this report and translating it from pidgin to genuine English. Thanks Stu.