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BACK IN THE THICK OF IT

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BY DAVID HULME

The sun is dipping low in the west when the hunters see the dust cloud. Approaching almost imperceptibly, and raised by what is obviously a large herd in motion, the cloud shimmers low over the jesse-flanked floodplain, about a kilometer off. After a cursory look through his binoculars, PH Pete Wood turns to Tim Hauck, his friend and client.
'We have to move fast, we don't have much time.'
Though it is late in the day, lion bait is urgently required and it is important that this opportunity is made the most of. After readying themselves, the hunters head out, soon swallowed up conclusively by the jesse.
The men move as fast as the bush permits. Twenty minutes later, they are on a low cliff bank overlooking expansive floodplain at a gradual bend in the river. The buffalo herd has left the plain and split, the main body penetrating dense jesse a couple hundred meters upstream. A splinter group has crossed the riverbed and a dozen or so stragglers are seen hauling themselves up the far bank. After a brief consultation, Pete and veteran PH Magara Diirapenga decide to target the splinter herd. Waiting for the last buffalo to disappear into cover, the men stride out across the sand.
Although the hunters are onto the splinter group in short time, it is on the move and the bush is very thick. Tim prepares to shoot on more than one occasion, but circumstance dictates and a real opportunity eludes. The wind is initially favorable, but the buffalo unexpectedly change tack, wrong-footing and winding the men. More confused than alarmed, the herd clatters off a short distance over the rough ground. The hunters up the tempo: pushing the herd, working the angles and seeking out a window of opportunity. Even a small window will do - Tim Hauck is a great rifle shot.
Eventually, the hunters break from the jesse into a small mapari (open area), and the awaited opportunity presents itself. Eighty yards away, on the fringe of the clearing and partially obscured by light brush, several cows stand stock-still and alert, looking back the way they have come. These cows are herd security and they know they are being followed. One particularly large cow stands apart from the others, broadside on with her lung zone unobstructed. Tim sets himself up solidly on the shooting sticks, takes a bead on the foresight of his .416 Winchester and lets drive.

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ONE PARTICULARLY LARGE COW STANDS APART

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TIM SETS UP SOLIDLY

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'NANSI' - THERE SHE IS, DOWN AND SEEMINGLY DEAD

At the shot, the splinter herd thunders off. Pete turns to Tim and his silent question receives a nod in response – the shot felt good. A few minutes pass and, though no death bellow is forthcoming, the hunters move forward over the open ground. Soon they are in the thick of it – onto blood and moving slowly through the prohibitive jesse, scanning the way ahead as they go. A low whistle from Magara and the men crouch reflexively. Magara is pointing off to the right, where a patch of black bulk can be seen through the entangled stick and scrub, about thirty yards away. It takes only seconds to ascertain that the cow is not the one Tim shot at, before it crashes off through the brush. The focus immediately reverts back to the blood trail and the bush ahead. Twenty more methodical yards and Pete spots the cow, down and motionless in a tiny clearing. She is lying on her stomach and facing away – head down, seemingly lifeless. Although she appears stone dead, the hunters approach quietly and cautiously – these animals command the outmost respect. Roughly fifteen yards from the prone buffalo, a twig snaps under someone's foot and the cow's head snaps up, swiveling towards the sound. The hunters pull up abruptly, shouldering rifles in an instant. What seemed to be stone dead seconds before is actually very much alive. Very much alive and ready to do battle.
The cow is on her legs and spinning around to face the men in an instant, a double-barreled stream of vital blood spraying from her muzzle. And then she begins her charge, fast picking up momentum with flame red nostrils held high. Pete trains his rifle on the approaching buffalo, holding his fire and giving Tim the opportunity to finish what he started. The cow advances only a few yards, and Tim's .416 roars, hitting her in the center of the chest and causing her to falter. She regains her balance momentarily, before Tim pumps another solid into the same spot. Tottering but still defiant and totally dedicated to the destruction of her attackers, the buffalo takes two more well-placed shots in the chest before she is knocked down. Ringing eardrums fail to appreciate the deafening silence after the gunfire.

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UP......IN A BLUR

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INCOMING

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DOWN AND OUT, FOR GOOD THIS TIME

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EBBING ADRENALIN

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THE TEAM

As adrenalin levels ebb, everyone begins talking at once, and nervous, post-rush laughter fills the little clearing in the jesse. In due course, a bullet hole examination is made. Tim's first shot double lunged the cow, and the four that followed tore into either lungs or heart. Still that torn heart pumped pure courage and willed her to come on. How phenomenally tough are these animals anyway? Pacing out the distance from the dead cow to where the hunters were standing, Pete reports that it is eight yards. Getting close, very close, too close.......

It is on day five of the Tim Hauck/Ed Peters safari that the incident with the buffalo cow takes place. Tim and Ed are hunting Chewore Safari Area for lion, leopard and buffalo, with operator Roger Whittall Safaris and professional hunters Peter Wood and Richard Tabor. Tim has hunted Chewore with RWS and Pete Wood before, taking elephant, buffalo and eland bulls on that memorable safari. This time round, Tim's focus is on lion, whilst Ed hopes to take leopard, buffalo and a variety of plains game animals.
The first week of the hunt is spent looking for spoor, securing bait and baiting likely areas. By the week's end, the lion hunters have five baits out, and the leopard team has eight. Although females and immature males hit a number of these baits, the big toms prove elusive. Pete and Tim walk into and sit in several blinds that first week, experiencing awesome sightings but not coming across what they seek – a big maned male lion. Although it is mid-winter and daylight hours are short, the hunters' days are long and exhausting, with 3 am walk ins and time-consuming bait-check hauls over some of Africa's most rugged terrain. Time flies and the hunters hunt hard.

In retrospect, the incident with the buffalo cow seems as if it was a curtain raiser for the main event, which takes place a few days later and involves Ed and Rich. After checking their baits one morning, the leopard hunters decide to walk a stretch of the Mkanga River and look for a kudu or bushbuck. The chosen stretch of river gouges its way crudely through the rugged Muveya Hills, and it is known it to be a preferred 'dagga boy' haunt. The men walk off in single file, with Rich leading the way and Ed second in line. Bringing up the rear are the Parks game scout, Zambezi, and Rich's number two tracker, Oriah. Tawengwa, the number one tracker, has driven off in the cruiser to meet the hunters at a predetermined point downstream.
The walk has hardly begun when all hell breaks loose. The hunters come to a sharp bend in the river, passing by a jumbled collection of large boulders at the base of a sandstone cliff-bank. Rounding the water-worn boulders with rifle slung, Rich comes face to face with a buffalo bull, no more than five yards from him. Rich instinctively takes a couple of steps backwards, unslinging his rifle and ordering those behind to retreat. The buffalo glares at the men for two misleadingly protracted seconds, and then it comes boiling from behind the boulders, mayhem on its mind.
Backpedaling at pace, readying himself to shoot and keeping his eyes on the bull at the same time, Ed overbalances and falls over. Ed falls directly in the charging bull's path and it bears down on him, killing rage in its furious eyes and mind. Two rapid shots from Rich's .470 Krieghof slam into the enraged bull and it turns at the last second, pounding hooves missing Ed by inches. The bull surges across the sand and into the thick riverine beyond, receiving a raking from Zambezi's AK 47 as it goes.
The unprovoked attack leaves the hunters shaken. Facing any buffalo charge is a frightening experience, let alone a totally unexpected one. Of course, the question on everyone's lips is what caused the bull to charge. But the answer to that question can wait – the main concern is following up and killing the wounded bull, before it kills a human. The men consolidate, smoking a couple of cigarettes and pondering their predicament – they know what has to be done. After about fifteen minutes, Rich calls time and rifles are double-checked. With Ed at his shoulder, Rich leads the way into the jesse. The hunters move forward, step by painstaking step, eyes sweeping the surrounding bush and senses screaming at full throttle.
Oriah stays on the blood and hangs back, whilst Rich, Ed and Zambezi stalk ahead and scan the bush for irregularity – shadow where shadow shouldn’t be, a flicker of movement.... Though it seems an eternity, no more than ten minutes have passed, no more than forty yards covered, when Oriah snaps his fingers. The men freeze and turn to the young tracker, who is gesturing at a clump of underbrush off to the right. Rich turns back and the bull breaks, hooves pounding the earth and crashing through the ten yards of brush that separate it from the focus of its intent.
Rich unleashes both barrels into the bull once again, the first at about four yards and the second at exactly zero yards. The bull comes on and Rich spins from its flight path, already reloading. With Rich out of his line of fire, Ed is able to pull off one hasty shot, as he leaps to the side. The bull is beginning to feel the effects of the heavy caliber punishment and it staggers briefly, before blundering straight over Ed, heavy hooves hammering into his legs and torso. Out of control now, the bull careers into Zambezi and sends him flying, before its front legs give way completely and it nosedives into the ground. Floundering on its side and flailing for purchase, the bull flips over, regaining its feet and spinning around in search of another target. Ed is on his feet and reloaded, and he manages to bury another round in the bull before it is onto him again. Using his rifle as a block, Ed is bowled head over heals into the dust; the rifle hooked from his hands and sent cartwheeling into the air. Rich has been waiting for a clear line of fire and now he sees it. The .470 bellows and the bull sinks to its knees. Rich strides in closer and ends the affair with a single shot.

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PH RICHARD TABOR, TRACKER ORIAH, ED PETERS, GAMESCOUT ZAMBEZI, AND THE BULL THAT NEARLY KILLED MORE THAN ONE OF THEM

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GOOD REASON FOR RAGE

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THE EFFECT OF THE AK47, WHICH COULD HAVE DONE NOTHING TO IMPROVE THE BULL'S MOOD

It is an absolute miracle that nobody is seriously injured. Although there are sure to be bruises aplenty, and possibly a couple of cracked ribs, both Ed and Zambezi are in one piece. Who ever hears of someone being run over by a buffalo and escaping unscathed? It just doesn’t happen. But it happened to Ed Peters and Zambezi the game scout, and Ed was bowled over not once, but twice! If Ed didn’t believe in guardian angels before the encounter with the bull, he surely believes in them now. Upon closer inspection, it is found that the reason for the bull's aggression is a ripped and festering scrotal wound. It is difficult to determine the cause of the wound, as the animal is otherwise unmarked.
Tim and Pete arrive on the scene about an hour later, after receiving a garbled radio message from a shell-shocked Oriah. Oriah reported that a buffalo had trampled Ed and Zambezi, and that they were seriously injured. Knowing only to well what happens to men who are trampled by buffalo, Tim and Pete were fearing the worst and drove the length of Chewore South over extremely rough roads at breakneck speed. They are astounded and extremely relieved to find their friends unhurt. Later that night, a great deal of talk takes place over a generous quantity of scotch. Before dawn the next morning, when only the faintest traces of pink smudge the eastern horizon, the hunters leave camp. Out on the hunt again. Back in the thick of it....

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