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After 7 hard days of all-day tracking solitary bulls and scanning herds, nothing was worth shooting, or, all tracks lead to nowhere and to nothing. (I have an aversion to taking Buffalo from herds in the first place). On morning of Day 8 we came across 9 different sets of Daga Boy tracks that had crossed the Chewore river (mostly dry sand and rock at this time of year) into another concession. A bit frustrating. But our luck was about to change....

...That afternoon as planned we were heading back down to the river to see if we could catch anything crossing back before dark...Then, we saw it, fresh spoor that had just crossed (there was "hot" manure") a small dirt road heading down to the Chewore river. What had been the case in the past few days is that all of the animals at this end of the concession (Chewore North) had been trading back an forth across the river into Sapi from CN. We figured this would be the case again (gone into Sapi), but gave it a try anyway. We started out just a little over 2km from the river. Hearing some animals a few hundred yards off to our right in the thick Jesse, the decision was made to drop into a deep riverine and parallel the Buffalo down to the river. The wind was right, so off we went. We had to move fast, or risk yet another crossing, sans us! At almost a trot, we moved in single file down this steep, narrow drainage. 20 or so minutes later we were at the edge of the Chewore. The PH was in the lead on this stalk with me the cameraman, trackers and Game scout in the rear. At river's edge, he crawled up a small mound of sand to see if we had in fact intercepted the herd before they crossed over into Sapi. When the PH peeked over the edge to the right, his eyes nearly popped out of his head! He frantically motioned for me to crawl up to him and see what had gotten him so wired...I did so, and there, at the most 10 yards away was a Dagga Boy standing, quartering away with his head in a bush....He was thrashing about the branches much in the same way a Whitetail buck does during the rut....Making a lot of noise and grunting....Pretty cool to see in it's own right...There was no herd in sight...

...In a split second my instincts overpowered me and I was standing upright rifle shouldered and off safe....The old bull never knew I was there...Then, he stopped his exercise session, turned and looked right at me...Oh-boy what a sight to see. That monster was so close I could make out the detail of the hide on his nose!!! Fortunately the wind was right, I had a dark background and he just did not see me. I knew this and decided not to attempt a frontal brain as he was on slightly higher ground than me and had his head up high...Risky shot in my opinion...I knew I had a little time and held my position hopefully until a good solid shot presented itself ...And, it did...He turned broadside to me facing the river and was about to calmly start off....He was really close and I was completely exposed - no place to go. But, he still had no idea I was there, right there, less than 10 yards from him...My heart was pumping pretty good. Not in a panic, but more so due to the fact that I knew I had him and it was just going to be a matter of seconds before it was "game-on"! (What I wouldn't give to have an experience like this everyday....God,what a rush!)...

... I sensed that he was about to make a move and that's when I put a 500 grain Woodleigh in his neck....(Another risky shot ,but I figured it was better than a heart-lung shot that might have resulted in a stomping - A stomping I say, not a charge...at this distance had he decided to come he would have been on me so quickly there would have been no avoiding getting hit....Maybe by an almost dead Buffalo, but a hit none the less....And a brush with any Buffalo usually means a brush with death - literally!)


...He stiffened-up like a "piņata" rolled over and never made a move after that...I reloaded, ran around behind him and put a couple quick "anchoring" shots into his spine...3 really good death bellows and a minute or so later he was gone and all fell silent...I patted him on his horn bosses and muttered some sort of thanks to the almighty for letting it come off this well....It was a fairly emotional thing in a strange-good sort of way...

...The normally circumspect PH jumped up absolutely ecstatic...He said he'd never had a Buff shot that close (8 and a half paces) with such a stand-off...We became almost euphoric with laughter and high-fives, manic better describes it. He was truly delighted...So was I. For once again I was back in Africa, putting it all on the line and doing what every man should do....risking it all for the sake of his own sanity!

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