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maral
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Reged: 17/05/11
Posts: 33
Loc: Norway
Hunting buffalo, eland and sable in Niassa, Mozambique
      #382461 - 12/02/24 12:17 AM

In october 2022, I hunted in the Niassa province in Mozambique.

The story was published in the member magazine of SCI Royal Nordic Chapter.

RNC Magazine


I have translated some of the central parts of my story.


In Hemingway's footsteps.

A few years ago I decided I was going to hunt buffalo. It was supposed to be my 50th birthday present to myself. The plan was to hunt buffalo in South Africa, but eventually I became convinced that I had to go "all in" and hunt wild buffalo in "old Africa."
Of course, my old friend and outfitter Jaco Hurst was quick to suggest that John and I should visit the hunting operation he runs in Niassa, in the north of Mozambique. It was decided that we would spend 3 weeks in the country. John would like to hunt some of the small antelope he lacks to get his "Tiny ten", so we booked a stay in the south of the country first.
We then had a long day's driving before late one evening we arrived in Marrupa, where Mozambique Wilderness Adventures (MWA) has its hunting area, Courtada Marangira. The area is 440,000 hectares, so we had some space to play around.
Mbogo at sunset.

The first morning in the camp was spent checking and depositing weapons. I was actually going to use my Chapuis double rifle in 470 NE on the buffalo hunt, but I chose to travel light on the trip. Since Jaco at MWA assured me he had loaner guns that would suit me, I went for it.
Jaco fitted me with a CZ 550 in 416 Rigby, with a Swarovski 1-6x24 on top. He also had Hornady ammunition with 400gr DGX and DGS bullets at my disposal. Perfect.
Eventually we drove out to one of MWA's flycamps which was located in a part of the terrain known to house some groups of old buffalo bulls or duggaboys. We got settled in the camp just in time for lunch and spent some time familiarizing ourselves with the facilities.
In the afternoon, my PH Leo thought we should go and look for tracks. In the evening we found tracks of 2 buffalo bulls. Leo and the trackers conferred a bit and agreed that these buffaloes would probably come by the river and drink the next morning.

The trackers, Maxwell and Mosa, were absolutely fantastic, by the way. Maxwell I have hunted with in South Africa several times, so we were good buddies. Mosa was from one of the villages in the hunting grounds, knew the area like his own pockets and was equipped with an absolutely insane falcon's eye.
The next morning it was off. We found fresh tracks of the 2 buffalos and decided to follow them. We followed the tracks for almost 3 hours, before the wind changed. Meanwhile, the buffalo bulls had hung onto a herd of cows and calves. With bad wind and 40-50 sets of sharpened buffalo senses, we agreed to give up.
While eating lunch and getting something cold to drink, we bumped into a couple of boys from one of the villages. They could tell that there were 3 buffalo bulls living nearby.

We found the tracks of the buffalos, but they were not so easy to decipher. The bulls enjoyed themselves in a donga or dried-up river bed, and had left many tracks in the area. Eventually the trackers found out that we were following the tracks from the morning, and not the freshest ones set in the afternoon. The day was getting away from us, so we thought we'd give up for the day.
On the way back to the car, Leo suddenly stopped with a jerk and I almost stepped on him..
“Shit, there they are! » Quite right, we had found the buffaloes! Now things had to happen quickly. Me and Leo sneaked up on the buffaloes, but they were aware of us and stung. They didn't look too scared, so we waited. The second time we "bumped" them, we stopped. What are we doing? The sun had started to set, and the buffaloes were getting a little irritated.

"Let's try one more time!" Leo is not one to give up, so we crept towards the thicket where we had seen them disappear. Suddenly a buffalo bull stood 40-50m away and looked at us. The shooting sticks came up and the aiming dot in the Swarovski danced around on the buffalo. Pulse and breathing were not under control! Here it was just a matter of giving myself a mental slap in the back of the head.. While focus came, I heard Leo say: "This is a nice buffalo, but not the one you want. It's too young! His mate is the right one.” The 2 old bulls were followed by a younger buffalo, and that was the one I was aiming at. Leo thought that since it was the first day of the hunt, it would be unnecessary to shoot such a young buffalo. The light was also getting weaker, so we were about to give up.

“F..k! There is the old one!” Leo set up the sticks in a hurry. "Shoot him!" The 416 Rigby came up on the sticks, the aiming dot found the shoulder and I registered that the buffalo signed for a hit, before it plunged into the thicket, clearly uneven in its trot. The left front foot was clearly not working as it should. I didn't notice the recoil! I was really in my own "bubble", with full focus on the buffalo.

Leo grabbed his 458 Lott from Maxwell and we followed the buffalo. Normally one would wait and let the buffalo "rest" before we followed, but it was getting dark. 150m away we found the bull again. It had lain down in a thicket, but jumped up and ran away. I followed it in my sights and hoped for a quartering shot. It couldn't be done, so the buffalo got 2 quick bullets in the seat of his pants instead. The first shot hit it in the left thigh, while the second went between the root of the tail and the balls. The buffalo kicked hard backwards. The hind legs were almost in line with the back! After 7-8 more steps he crumbled and fell.
We rounded the buffalo and approached it from the back. We still haven't heard the characteristic death bellow, so we approached cautiously. The buffalo was still breathing, so it received a 400gr Hornady full jacket between the shoulder blades. It was the last "nail in the coffin" and the buffalo expired in front of us.

The boyhood dream of buffalo hunting was finally fulfilled, and I could lay my hands on the horns of my own duggaboy. And what a duggaboy! The buffalo was estimated to be 16-18 years old. The horns were worn down, it was white in the face with the characteristic black rings around the eyes that really old bulls get. The horns were maybe not the biggest, but this buffalo had character. When we turned the buffalo over we discovered that it had an old wire snare around its head, and old lion claw marks along its flanks. A truly ancient warrior, which had endured every trial a buffalo can have, only to meet its end at the mouth of my 416 Rigby.
The car was fetched and the buffalo loaded onto the plane. As we approached the village the rumour of the buffalo kill had preceded us. The whole village greeted us with song, dance and drums. The atmosphere was almost electric, and I felt the hairs on my arms stand up. MWA's practice is that all meat from the hunt is distributed to the local population, and it was clear that buffalo meat was appreciated.



Edited by maral (13/02/24 08:33 AM)


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maral
.224 member


Reged: 17/05/11
Posts: 33
Loc: Norway
Re: Hunting buffalo, eland and sable in Niassa, Mozambique [Re: maral]
      #382462 - 12/02/24 12:19 AM

Eland! Grande!

We put in a rest day after the buffalo fell. Although some of us could feel the celebrating the night before, life was anything but depressing, and we took it easy. We even found a suitable pool in the river where we could swim. As we swam around, I suddenly heard deep grunting further up the river. I looked questioningly at Leo, who had also heard the noises. “Hippos! There should be no hippos here!” Sure enough, in a puddle a few hundred meters further up the river, a mother hippopotamus with her offspring had settled down. It was a good thing we didn't swim in that puddle..

Since the buffalo hunt was completed much faster than expected, we had to find something else to fill the days with. Leo had heard about my flair for eland hunting, and was quick to come forward with pictures of well-grown eland bulls that had been shot in the area. In addition, he could tell that we were actually in the middle of Ernest Hemingway's favorite hunting grounds. Hemingway had once written something that nowhere in Africa was the eland hunting better, and the bulls bigger, than at the Loreco river in October. Coincidentally, that was exactly where we were. The flycamp we sat in had a view of Loreco, in mid-October.

Courtada Marangira, which we hunted in, is relatively far north in Mozambique, actually only 130km south of the well-known Selous Reserve in Tanzania.
The locality means that there are opportunities to encounter both Livingstone's eland and Patterson's eland, as well as crosses between the species.
One of the other PHs at MWA had seen a real specimen of a Livingstone eland a couple of weeks earlier. We decided to see if we could find it.

The following morning we drove out of the flycamp, and Mosa's local knowledge guided us in the right direction. 6-7km from the camp, Mosa exclaimed: "Eland! Grande!” How he spotted the eland at a distance of 4-500m in the thicket while we were driving at good speed is a mystery to me. Anyway, we had found an eland worth tracking. Wise of damage, after the previous eland hunt in South Africa, I made sure that the cartridge holder in the belt was full of cartridges for the 416 Rigby.
We moved at a single line through the bush, following Maxwell and Mosa. Maxwell took the track while Mosa scanned the thicket with his incredible vision. In addition to the tracks of the bull, Maxwell also found tracks of females and calves. Leo gave me a thumbs up, as the huge eland was supposed to stay together with a herd.

After following the trail for an hour, Mosa suddenly stopped and pointed energetically into the bush. I couldn't see anything, and was up with the binoculars. Leo did the same, and suddenly he was in a hurry to bring up the sticks. He pointed to a den in the thicket, and I put up with the CZ. I still couldn't see the eland, but after a bit of a whispered explanation from Leo, it was as if the eland suddenly emerged from the thicket.
"It's a long shot! See if you can find a gap in the bushes.” Leo seconded in a whisper. The eland stood approximately 180m away from us. The rifle was sighted 4cm high at 100m and an eland has a reasonably large vital area, so I put the aiming point at the back of the shoulder and squeezed off the shot.

The eland leaped into the air like a rodeo horse before it crashed away through the thicket. Maxwell slapped me on the back and cheered. "The eland is dead! The bullet hit straight!” The shot felt good, but as I said to Maxwell: "The hunt is not over!" Leo and Mosa grinned widely. There was no doubt what they thought about the matter.
200m further on we found the eland bull. Maxwell was right, the bullet had entered the back edge of the shoulder, blasted the top of the heart and exited behind the other shoulder
"This really is the big one!" Leo exclaimed. “I have hunted over 200 eland bulls in my time as a PH, and none have had horns as big as this one”
The eland was truly "grande". The body weight was estimated at 850-900kg, and the horns were both between 41 and 42 inches.

Today's hunt was over, and it wasn't 8 in the morning yet. Although over... the hunt itself was over, but now the work began to get the car to the drop, and to get a small ton of antelope onto the back of the car. In any case, it was fun work, at least when I found the bottle with Dr. Nielsen that was in my hunting bag...
During the slaughtering of the eland, we picked out one tenderloin. This was put in a marinade, and was grilled for dinner the same day. Served with pap and hot sauce, it was a gentleman's meal.



Edited by maral (13/02/24 08:31 AM)


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maral
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Reged: 17/05/11
Posts: 33
Loc: Norway
Re: Hunting buffalo, eland and sable in Niassa, Mozambique [Re: maral]
      #382463 - 12/02/24 12:21 AM

Hunting the king's game.

The facilities in the main camp were excellent. Chef Vanja spoiled us with absolutely delicious food 3 times a day. Especially Vanja's desserts were of the best quality. We eventually found out that dessert for both lunch and dinner could be a bit excessive. The hottest hours after lunch were spent in the pool.

The hunting pressure was a little lower with both buffalo, eland and hyena in the salt, but we had to go out and have a look in the best areas for plains game. In Niassa, there are a number of species, which were a bit interesting. Niassa wildebeest, Johnson's impala and Bohm's zebra are all species that are mostly only found in the north of Mozambique.
We looked around the terrain without any particular plan. I figured if we came across a good Bohm's Zebra, I'd give it a try. Over the next couple of days we saw quite a few zebra, but nothing shootable. Mosa had a last place on his mind, so we headed for a valley we had not been in before.

We drove over a ridge before we reached the valley Mosa wanted to show us. We had just started the descent, when Mosa pointed energetically into a forest tap. Zebra? I looked at Mosa. "Pala pala," was the reply. Pala pala is the local name for sable. This far north in the country, there is the special Roosevelt Sable. An entourage of 7 stately sable bulls paraded past us. One prettier than the other. Finally, the Eighth Sable appeared! Mosa and Leo's jaws dropped when they saw it. It was both larger in body, and had horns that really stuck out compared to the others. All were great animals in trophy class, but the last one was absolutely incredible. "Atirah?" Aren't you going to shoot it, Mosa wondered?
Sable was actually over my budget so I shook my head. "Too expensive". Mosa looked worried. Should I really let this specimen go?
After studying the beautiful bulls for a while, we drove on. The trackers chatted excitedly together in their local language. It was clear that they couldn't understand that I wasn't supposed to hunt that sable.

We drove for maybe 5 minutes, when I couldn't stand it anymore. The palm of the hand slammed into the roof of the car. The usual sign for stop. Leo stopped and wondered if something was wrong. "Let's forget the bloody zebra, I want to hunt that sable!" Mosa, who only speaks Portuguese and his local language, looked at us. I gave my first order in broken Portuguese: “Atirah pala pala! Arma grande!” We're going to shoot sable, send me the big rifle!” Mosa's face broke into a broad grin, and he pulled the 416 Rigby out of the case.

The wind was favourable, so we moved back towards the place where we had last seen the sabers. They hadn't gone that far. Up towards the top of the ridge there was a eddy in the wind, so we had to make a loop around the herd of sables. Eventually we started getting closer to the animals. Now we had to find the big guy again. All the bulls were certainly shootable, but I would like to have the best of them.
The sable herd was snoozing in a cluster of trees. It began to get so late in the morning that the heat was oppressive, and the animals did not move unless it was necessary. In the end we got into the 120m hold. The wind started to change again, so we had no chance to get any closer. There was a lot of undergrowth, so finding an opening to trick a bullet up to the Sables was not easy.
After much use of binoculars, we found what looked like a clear firing range. Leo set up the firing pins and I left with the CZ. It took a bit of finesse before I could finally release the shot. I never saw the saber fall, but heard Leo's jubilant roar: "You dropped him like a sack of potatoes!" What I had seen, however, were twigs flying in a couple of places in the front line of sight, and an empty shell from the 416 Rigbyen hit Maxwell, while I hastily took charge and focused on the fallen saber again. There was no danger, however, the sable bull would never rise again.
We walked towards the fallen bull, and eventually it dawned on us how huge it actually was. Leo gripped the horn bases, and let his fists follow the horn towards the tip. "This bull is out of this world!"

I proclaimed; "Now I am done hunting on this trip." One should quit when on top.
In earlier times, sable was royal game, which only the king could hunt. It was associated with the death penalty if one was caught hunting sable. My sable was truly of royal quality. Later it was measured to have horns of 45 and 45.5 inches, with bases of 10 inches. It probably shrinks somewhat during the dry season, but it still ends up very high on SCI's trophy list.



Edited by maral (13/02/24 08:34 AM)


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maral
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Reged: 17/05/11
Posts: 33
Loc: Norway
Re: Hunting buffalo, eland and sable in Niassa, Mozambique [Re: maral]
      #382464 - 12/02/24 12:25 AM

A couple of videos from the hunt.


Roosevelt sable, Niassa

Livingstone Eland, Niassa

Edited by maral (12/02/24 12:49 AM)


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NitroXAdministrator
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Reged: 25/12/02
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Loc: Barossa Valley, South Australi...
Re: Hunting buffalo, eland and sable in Niassa, Mozambique [Re: maral]
      #382468 - 12/02/24 01:21 AM

Quote:

In october 2022, I hunted in the Niassa province in Mozambique.

The story was published in the member magazine of SCI Royal Nordic Chapter.

RNC Magazine


I have translated some of the central parts of my story.


In Hemingway's footsteps.





"I HEMINGSWAY FOTSPOR"

https://royalnordicchapter.com/wp-content/uploads/flipbook/43/book.html

No page numbers. Page 28 per the index.

--------------------
John aka NitroX

...
Govt get out of our lives NOW!
"I love the smell of cordite in the morning."
"A Sharp spear needs no polish"


Edited by NitroX (12/02/24 04:35 PM)


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93x64mm
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Reged: 07/12/11
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Re: Hunting buffalo, eland and sable in Niassa, Mozambique [Re: NitroX]
      #382478 - 12/02/24 07:01 AM

Magnificent Sable!

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