FrontSight
New member
Definitely post pics!! And let us know how hippo tastes if you manage to seal that deal - Capstick raved about how delicious hippo meat is supposed to be...been dying to taste some!!
Anyone wanna see pics of my Zimbabwe Buff hunt?
- Thread starter Rich Lucibella
- Start date
Rich Lucibella
Staff
I've got an early wake up for the flight to NY.
Will try to answer some questions here:
Barrel length of the 50 Alaskan. Against my "better" judgment, Ashley did this one in the same octagonal barrel configuration as the 45-70, but with a few extra inches for weight. I'd say it's 22 inches. Ashley was right, and from field positions, I've yet to feel the recoil.
Bullet choice:
I normally shoot Buffalo Bore 450 grain LFN's (nominal 2050 fps) for hog and the like; though, I have used their 45-70's with good result on Cape Buff. Fr this trip, we've opted for the Belt Mountain 460 gr bonded "Punch" backed up by Belt Mountain Solids: http://www.beltmountain.com/
Nominal speed is 2000 fps and 1850 fps respectively. However, if I've learned anything from Randy Garret, it's that velocity has diddly to do with penetration of hard casts. In fact, some can cast bullets so hard that velocity risks shattering them like glass on hard bone. Randy know the art of cast and ogive and can push his heavy "Hammerhead" 45-70's lengthwise thru a North American Bison at barely over 1600 FPS!
Personally, I'm more comfortable with speed in excess of 2,000 - 2,200 fps to give a higher probability of "hydrostatic damage" to soft tissue; but that didn't seem to matter to the last 3 Buff I shot with the 45-70. They died.
The 45-70:
That, too, was born a Marlin Lever gun. Turned into a satin nickel plated, octo barrelled (18.5"), breakdown rifle by David Clay with a lot of demands from Ashley Emerson.
The safari barrel and forend to the Blaser is a 416 RemMag. It remains home....it'd be redundant given the 50 AK.
I'm off.
Rich
Will try to answer some questions here:
Barrel length of the 50 Alaskan. Against my "better" judgment, Ashley did this one in the same octagonal barrel configuration as the 45-70, but with a few extra inches for weight. I'd say it's 22 inches. Ashley was right, and from field positions, I've yet to feel the recoil.
Bullet choice:
I normally shoot Buffalo Bore 450 grain LFN's (nominal 2050 fps) for hog and the like; though, I have used their 45-70's with good result on Cape Buff. Fr this trip, we've opted for the Belt Mountain 460 gr bonded "Punch" backed up by Belt Mountain Solids: http://www.beltmountain.com/
Nominal speed is 2000 fps and 1850 fps respectively. However, if I've learned anything from Randy Garret, it's that velocity has diddly to do with penetration of hard casts. In fact, some can cast bullets so hard that velocity risks shattering them like glass on hard bone. Randy know the art of cast and ogive and can push his heavy "Hammerhead" 45-70's lengthwise thru a North American Bison at barely over 1600 FPS!
Personally, I'm more comfortable with speed in excess of 2,000 - 2,200 fps to give a higher probability of "hydrostatic damage" to soft tissue; but that didn't seem to matter to the last 3 Buff I shot with the 45-70. They died.
The 45-70:
That, too, was born a Marlin Lever gun. Turned into a satin nickel plated, octo barrelled (18.5"), breakdown rifle by David Clay with a lot of demands from Ashley Emerson.
The safari barrel and forend to the Blaser is a 416 RemMag. It remains home....it'd be redundant given the 50 AK.
I'm off.
Rich
ammo.crafter
New member
African PIX
Love to see 'em.
THX
Love to see 'em.
THX
Rich Lucibella
Staff
Guys-
I’m here at Mokore and required a few days before sending in some reports. The following are excerpted directly from my personal journal….so I apologize for the detail.
It was a rough go at first as I immediately wound up in a Cold War with my PH. The reasons are still unknown to me. I provide here the hunts on Sunday and Tuesday. Monday is in the Journal as “Come to Jesus Day”….that’s when I confronted my PH and got things squared away.
As a result, you’ll see a big difference in the reports from Sunday and Tuesday. My shooting has NOT been good, as you'll see (especially you 'neck shots only" guys). But I'm not about to post only my upcoming World Class feats
.
Regards-
Rich
I’m here at Mokore and required a few days before sending in some reports. The following are excerpted directly from my personal journal….so I apologize for the detail.
It was a rough go at first as I immediately wound up in a Cold War with my PH. The reasons are still unknown to me. I provide here the hunts on Sunday and Tuesday. Monday is in the Journal as “Come to Jesus Day”….that’s when I confronted my PH and got things squared away.
As a result, you’ll see a big difference in the reports from Sunday and Tuesday. My shooting has NOT been good, as you'll see (especially you 'neck shots only" guys). But I'm not about to post only my upcoming World Class feats
. Regards-
Rich
Rich Lucibella
Staff
Sunday, September 3: The Zebra
5am wakeup call came too late….I’d been up and ready since 4! I was resigned to the fact that I would not be making any close friends in the hunting vehicle; what the hell, I already have too many “close” friends. I’d simply observe what I observed and shoot what I chose. 14 more days; let’s make it a good 14.
The morning hunt went poorly. We hunted for Buff and Pete insisted that the first shot be with a solid. I’m personally against this, except with lesser calibers or scoped rifles. The 500 grain bonded bullet has plenty of energy for Buff and will do a heck of a lot more internal damage, I reckon. But I was certainly not going to argue the point. He turned to “Shssh” me several times on the trail, though I could swear his foot fall, twig breaks and rock stumbles were louder and more frequent than mine.
Never saw buff but, returning to the truck, we came upon a herd of Zebra. Pete asked me if I was ready to shoot a Zebra….sure, I owed it to the last Zebra I shot so poorly to do one right. He jammed the sticks into the ground and pointed out the target. “Shoot! Shoot quickly”. At 60 yards, the animal was behind brush nearly up to the spine. I dropped the sights just below the top of the brush, looking for a lung shot and touched one off. The Zebra dropped and I knew the sound immediately.
I’d spined him and that is often not good, especially with a solid, I thought as I took off thru the brush in his direction. Sure enough, halfway there, he recovered from the temporary shock and bolted. I flung two more rounds at him and called both a miss.
What was I thinking?!!!!! Shoot a trophy animal with the vitals covered by 60 yards of brush? I’ve never done that. Use a solid on a Zebra? Truth of the matter is I didn’t realize there wasn’t a jacketed bullet in the pipe until after I pulled the trigger.
I turned to a disgusted Pete. “Why didn’t you shoot lower for the heart; you don’t have to see it to know where it is.” “Because, Pete, as I told you yesterday, I once lost a gorgeous Nyala to this very rifle because I hadn’t seen one small branch midway between us.” “Ack, if I tell you to shoot, I can guarantee the bullet will go where you shoot it.”
After two hours of tracking a 90 minute gone blood trail, Pete called it quits. I don’t blame him. It was a stupid bad shot; and the second time I’ve wounded a Zebra. At least we found the first and finished him proper.
Lesson Learned: Just because you’re on a foreign continent, in the hands of a Professional Hunter, there is no reason at all to break common sense rules of hunting. I pulled the trigger. I bear the responsibility for that.
The afternoon hunting was ugly. Pete told me to jump out of the truck quick. The trackers handed me my scoped .338 and I loaded the chamber. Pete grabbed the back of my collar and dragged me in front of the sticks. “Shoot!”, he said. “Shoot what?” “The Waterbuck”, he replied grabbing the forend of the rifle and slamming it onto the sticks.
Well, I didn’t see a Waterbuck. What I saw was only red. I’m not used to being dragged around or having my rifle manhandled while in my shoulder. Pete reached over me for the stock and pointed the rifle somewhere for me….it didn’t matter where to me. I turned and looked him in the eye. “You need to calm down”. I assume he walked back to the truck because the Waterbuck had run off. Personally, I might shoot one if they’ll promise to COOK IT FOR DINNER, but I think the only sporting way to hunt Waterbuck is with a slingshot and pen knife.
Another 3 hunters showed up in camp tonight with the sons and daughter-in-laws of Mokori’s owner. Nice people. Dinner was Kudu steak. Pete was gregarious and pleasant with all concerned. I exchanged conversation and niceties with all, had a few drinks with Danny and went to bed knowing I had a real problem with my PH. Was it because of the un-scoped Lever Action 50 AK? The fact that my Blaser was not dead on at sight-in? The wounded Zebra? Perhaps it was because he’d had one tracker mauled by a wounded Buff and another killed by a rogue Elephant this year. Thinking back, I realized he was unhappy with me from the beginning. For whatever his reasons, Pete either doesn’t think much of me or simply no longer enjoys his job; perhaps both. I’ll live with it…..passive aggression is no match for me when I know what I’m up against.
5am wakeup call came too late….I’d been up and ready since 4! I was resigned to the fact that I would not be making any close friends in the hunting vehicle; what the hell, I already have too many “close” friends. I’d simply observe what I observed and shoot what I chose. 14 more days; let’s make it a good 14.
The morning hunt went poorly. We hunted for Buff and Pete insisted that the first shot be with a solid. I’m personally against this, except with lesser calibers or scoped rifles. The 500 grain bonded bullet has plenty of energy for Buff and will do a heck of a lot more internal damage, I reckon. But I was certainly not going to argue the point. He turned to “Shssh” me several times on the trail, though I could swear his foot fall, twig breaks and rock stumbles were louder and more frequent than mine.
Never saw buff but, returning to the truck, we came upon a herd of Zebra. Pete asked me if I was ready to shoot a Zebra….sure, I owed it to the last Zebra I shot so poorly to do one right. He jammed the sticks into the ground and pointed out the target. “Shoot! Shoot quickly”. At 60 yards, the animal was behind brush nearly up to the spine. I dropped the sights just below the top of the brush, looking for a lung shot and touched one off. The Zebra dropped and I knew the sound immediately.
I’d spined him and that is often not good, especially with a solid, I thought as I took off thru the brush in his direction. Sure enough, halfway there, he recovered from the temporary shock and bolted. I flung two more rounds at him and called both a miss.
What was I thinking?!!!!! Shoot a trophy animal with the vitals covered by 60 yards of brush? I’ve never done that. Use a solid on a Zebra? Truth of the matter is I didn’t realize there wasn’t a jacketed bullet in the pipe until after I pulled the trigger.
I turned to a disgusted Pete. “Why didn’t you shoot lower for the heart; you don’t have to see it to know where it is.” “Because, Pete, as I told you yesterday, I once lost a gorgeous Nyala to this very rifle because I hadn’t seen one small branch midway between us.” “Ack, if I tell you to shoot, I can guarantee the bullet will go where you shoot it.”
After two hours of tracking a 90 minute gone blood trail, Pete called it quits. I don’t blame him. It was a stupid bad shot; and the second time I’ve wounded a Zebra. At least we found the first and finished him proper.
Lesson Learned: Just because you’re on a foreign continent, in the hands of a Professional Hunter, there is no reason at all to break common sense rules of hunting. I pulled the trigger. I bear the responsibility for that.
The afternoon hunting was ugly. Pete told me to jump out of the truck quick. The trackers handed me my scoped .338 and I loaded the chamber. Pete grabbed the back of my collar and dragged me in front of the sticks. “Shoot!”, he said. “Shoot what?” “The Waterbuck”, he replied grabbing the forend of the rifle and slamming it onto the sticks.
Well, I didn’t see a Waterbuck. What I saw was only red. I’m not used to being dragged around or having my rifle manhandled while in my shoulder. Pete reached over me for the stock and pointed the rifle somewhere for me….it didn’t matter where to me. I turned and looked him in the eye. “You need to calm down”. I assume he walked back to the truck because the Waterbuck had run off. Personally, I might shoot one if they’ll promise to COOK IT FOR DINNER, but I think the only sporting way to hunt Waterbuck is with a slingshot and pen knife.
Another 3 hunters showed up in camp tonight with the sons and daughter-in-laws of Mokori’s owner. Nice people. Dinner was Kudu steak. Pete was gregarious and pleasant with all concerned. I exchanged conversation and niceties with all, had a few drinks with Danny and went to bed knowing I had a real problem with my PH. Was it because of the un-scoped Lever Action 50 AK? The fact that my Blaser was not dead on at sight-in? The wounded Zebra? Perhaps it was because he’d had one tracker mauled by a wounded Buff and another killed by a rogue Elephant this year. Thinking back, I realized he was unhappy with me from the beginning. For whatever his reasons, Pete either doesn’t think much of me or simply no longer enjoys his job; perhaps both. I’ll live with it…..passive aggression is no match for me when I know what I’m up against.
Attachments
Rich Lucibella
Staff
The Buff
Tuesday, September 5th: The Buff.
We had known that there were several small herds of bachelor bulls spotted in various areas. Dugga Boys. We headed out early to pick up their trail at first light and were successful. Pete explained that we'd be moving very fast until we got close and he wanted me to load solids with a 500gr jacketed ready, in case we needed to shoot into the herd.
We followed the tracks for about an hour until Churo pointed at something ahead. Pete motioned me to get low and we crawled forward of Churo and Taka about 20 yards. Pete looked thru the glass and signaled me to “assume the position”; unlike many PH's who crawl forward on hands and knees, I was happy to learn that Pete uses a technique that I learned from Danie Van Graan in Tanzania. We sat in single file, feet forward, with our rifles across our laps. To move forward, you simply stretch your legs, dig your heels in, and, palms to the ground a your sides, you lift your butt from the ground and move it forward. This allows you to cover a fair distance quickly, without dragging and scraping. It also allows you to shoot, if necessary and generally makes you feel less like a grass eater.
We got to within about a hundred yards and Pete turned to me, signaling “Do you see them?” “Yes”, I whispered. Looking over his shoulder I'd spotted two separate pieces of Buff….irregular round shapes in the linear brush. We crawled forward a bit more and they vanished. I believe they heard my rifle barrel drag and scrape on a branch. We stood.
“There were 5 of them”, Pete whispered. “They're skittish, but not running. Rich, how far out are you comfortable with that rifle?”
“We'll I've done Buff at 104 yards with iron sights, but I'd certainly prefer to be closer. Let's call it 80 yards, in this brush. But if you need me to shoot more quickly, you can drop the shooting sticks and get me to a tree; I'm pretty comfortable in sit, kneel or stand using a tree 'barricade' position.”
“OK, let's go.”
And off we went. We were rewarded about a half our later by Churo's characteristic point and we got down. The brush was fairly thick, but over Pete's shoulder I spotted three Bits-o-Buff in the brush at about 150 yards.
“Do you see them, Rich?”
“Yes”, I whispered.
Pete got a quizzical look on his face. A day ago I couldn't see a whole Waterbuck posing at 40 yards. Today I'm seeing pieces of game.
“Note that I see game far better when you remove your Tampon, Peter”, I whispered. I'm not certain, but I think he almost smiled….maybe.
We left the trackers to spot for us and moved, asses and heels in a long, lazy semi-circle. We finally got to about 80 yards and Pete pointed out my target, looking straight at us. Anyone who has hunted Buff knows that they tend to post “sentries”. I don't believe you can ever sneak up on them without being seen or scented; the best you can hope for is not alarming them enough to cause them to run…or charge. One of the beauties of the feet-forward crawl is this: When that Buff is looking right at you, you only need to lie down on your back to get out of sight and greatly lower your scent cone.
“Rich, don't look directly at him when he's watching us. But can you take him from here?”, Pete asked.
“No, not thru all this brush.”
“OK, take your rifle and move over to that tree….slowly!”
I did so with Pete following. The Dugga Boy turned broadside and presented a perfect shot at 70 yards. Then he just plopped down in the grass at the edge of a thicket.
“Can you see him now?” I studied the animal thru my binoculars. The top of his head and one horn were barely visible in the shadows. The butt was hidden. But I could spot a triangle of dark and shadow that appeared to be the right shoulder where it narrows to the ribs.
“Pete, is that his shoulder just behind those red leaves”.
“Yes, he's lying broadside. Those leaves are your aiming point.”
“If I stand, I can do it”, I whispered. (The bullet would have less chance of being deflected that way, traveling less distance thru potential obstacles.)
“Wait! There's another one just behind him.” Another Buff moved from the right to left, just behind my target.
“Which one?”
Pete studied the two. “Take the one laying down”.
Tuesday, September 5th: The Buff.
We had known that there were several small herds of bachelor bulls spotted in various areas. Dugga Boys. We headed out early to pick up their trail at first light and were successful. Pete explained that we'd be moving very fast until we got close and he wanted me to load solids with a 500gr jacketed ready, in case we needed to shoot into the herd.
We followed the tracks for about an hour until Churo pointed at something ahead. Pete motioned me to get low and we crawled forward of Churo and Taka about 20 yards. Pete looked thru the glass and signaled me to “assume the position”; unlike many PH's who crawl forward on hands and knees, I was happy to learn that Pete uses a technique that I learned from Danie Van Graan in Tanzania. We sat in single file, feet forward, with our rifles across our laps. To move forward, you simply stretch your legs, dig your heels in, and, palms to the ground a your sides, you lift your butt from the ground and move it forward. This allows you to cover a fair distance quickly, without dragging and scraping. It also allows you to shoot, if necessary and generally makes you feel less like a grass eater.
We got to within about a hundred yards and Pete turned to me, signaling “Do you see them?” “Yes”, I whispered. Looking over his shoulder I'd spotted two separate pieces of Buff….irregular round shapes in the linear brush. We crawled forward a bit more and they vanished. I believe they heard my rifle barrel drag and scrape on a branch. We stood.
“There were 5 of them”, Pete whispered. “They're skittish, but not running. Rich, how far out are you comfortable with that rifle?”
“We'll I've done Buff at 104 yards with iron sights, but I'd certainly prefer to be closer. Let's call it 80 yards, in this brush. But if you need me to shoot more quickly, you can drop the shooting sticks and get me to a tree; I'm pretty comfortable in sit, kneel or stand using a tree 'barricade' position.”
“OK, let's go.”
And off we went. We were rewarded about a half our later by Churo's characteristic point and we got down. The brush was fairly thick, but over Pete's shoulder I spotted three Bits-o-Buff in the brush at about 150 yards.
“Do you see them, Rich?”
“Yes”, I whispered.
Pete got a quizzical look on his face. A day ago I couldn't see a whole Waterbuck posing at 40 yards. Today I'm seeing pieces of game.
“Note that I see game far better when you remove your Tampon, Peter”, I whispered. I'm not certain, but I think he almost smiled….maybe.
We left the trackers to spot for us and moved, asses and heels in a long, lazy semi-circle. We finally got to about 80 yards and Pete pointed out my target, looking straight at us. Anyone who has hunted Buff knows that they tend to post “sentries”. I don't believe you can ever sneak up on them without being seen or scented; the best you can hope for is not alarming them enough to cause them to run…or charge. One of the beauties of the feet-forward crawl is this: When that Buff is looking right at you, you only need to lie down on your back to get out of sight and greatly lower your scent cone.
“Rich, don't look directly at him when he's watching us. But can you take him from here?”, Pete asked.
“No, not thru all this brush.”
“OK, take your rifle and move over to that tree….slowly!”
I did so with Pete following. The Dugga Boy turned broadside and presented a perfect shot at 70 yards. Then he just plopped down in the grass at the edge of a thicket.
“Can you see him now?” I studied the animal thru my binoculars. The top of his head and one horn were barely visible in the shadows. The butt was hidden. But I could spot a triangle of dark and shadow that appeared to be the right shoulder where it narrows to the ribs.
“Pete, is that his shoulder just behind those red leaves”.
“Yes, he's lying broadside. Those leaves are your aiming point.”
“If I stand, I can do it”, I whispered. (The bullet would have less chance of being deflected that way, traveling less distance thru potential obstacles.)
“Wait! There's another one just behind him.” Another Buff moved from the right to left, just behind my target.
“Which one?”
Pete studied the two. “Take the one laying down”.
Rich Lucibella
Staff
The Buff (Part Deux)
I stood, placed my left palm against a 4 inch tree, leaned and cradled the lever gun in the web of my thumb as I cocked the hammer. I confirmed my aiming point and touched one off. The entire herd tore off as I levered another solid into the barrel and tracked for a follow up.
“Wait, don't shoot!” Pete ordered. Teamwork, finally! I knew enough not to shoot at a running Buff in a herd. Pete knew enough to make the call the instant he saw me ready to fire.
What follows is a description of events as honestly as I can recall them, confirmed by Pete's memory. When relating a hunting story, “reporting” the events without coloring our own actions and reactions is more important to me than attractive prose and high drama. Too many hunters turn running, reloading gun battles into first shot kills by the time they return to camp. They always seem to accomplish 1 shot stops. I've had my share of these and killed two of my previous three Buff with the first shot, though one required two more hits to make up his mind that he was dead. This Dugga Boy would not go down so easily.
Those who shoot with me know that, unless I really flinch, I'm pretty good at calling my shots. Flinching a rifle has never been an issue in the field for me, though it can become so at the bench. The shot taken on this Buff broke without flinch, but it did not provide that perfect “surprise break” that pretty much guarantees our ability to call the shot. In retrospect, I believe I snatched the trigger a bit; but I was fairly confident that the hit was centerline of the body (high) and over the front shoulder. I called it a lung shot and hoped for the top of the heart and other lung as the bullet traversed the animal.
The news was good when we found the blood trail a couple of hundred yards away. Lung blood….red and bubbly. A half mile later the news got bad. The blood trail had disappeared and the Buff was still in the herd of 5. Another half hour of stalking and the news got worse; the Buff had left the herd. This meant that he was hurting for certain and very dangerous.
Much of what I report, I only learned from Pete after the hunt, such as the habits of wounded Buff. Due to the need for economy of noise in the stalk, we were not in a position to sit down for a long wildlife lecture. But what I did know was that the Dugga Boy had turned downwind into heavy brush where he could scent us and see us. At any given time there would be 6 or 10 clumps of brush within 50 yards in which he could hide and Pete kept trying to “hopscotch” the animal to a crosswind position, while maintaining contact with the track…and that the buff kept turning to keep us upwind, moving in a wide arc.
We stopped for a sitrep.
“Rich, this is a very, very dangerous situation. This Buff is wounded and knows we're on him. Sooner or later he's going to come for us. If we see him, do you want Taka and I to shoot.”
“Use your own best judgment, Pete.”
“Well, if you want to shoot him, you need to go in front.”
“I can't track him, Pete. Use your own best judgment.”
“OK, I want you to follow directly behind the trackers and be ready. If you see him, you must move to the side so that we're not shooting over each other. If he gets in the middle of us, DO NOT shoot one of us.” I was silent and just nodded my head. I've done more live fire in dynamic team situations than most hunters, but this was the real deal. Pete's admonition was well taken.
Reality check:
I always wanted to know what it would be like to stalk a wounded Cape Buff in the “thick stuff”. I just never wanted to be the one to CREATE the situation.
Am I frightened? Yes.
Am I shaking? No.
That's good.
Am I thinking clearly about the task at hand or worrying about the shot I took? Nope, I understand that the next shot is the only one that counts..
Also good. I was a ready as I was gonna be.
Realizing that I would never spot a Buff hiding in thicket in front of us before Pete, Taka or Churo, I concentrated on our sides and flanks, just in case The Hunted had grown tired of the game and made a sharp J-Hook to become The Hunter. I had given up my belief that wounded Buff “hunting the hunter” was just a myth.
About 20 minutes later, Pete separated to our right by about 30 yards to check out a heavy thicket in a small ravine. I heard a thunder of hooves and a shot, not _ second later. Pete had flushed the Buff and took a snap-shot with his .470 Nitro double. He would repeat this separation twice more this day, instinctively routing the Buff.
“Did you hit him?”
“SHHHHHSH!”
We sat and Pete came over. He whispered, “I think I missed him. I may have caught him in the guts but I don't think so.”
We moved on to where the animal crossed a road into more heavy brush.
“Rich, he's moving forward and hiding in these small thickets. This is very, very dangerous and I think we should call in another PH. We'll leave Danny with the truck and go in with four guns: you, me, Hilton and Taka.”
“Your call Pete.” The only problem was that I knew Pete had forgotten his radio in camp. The nearest radio was at Pete's truck, probably 2 miles away.
“OK, I'll tell you what. Let's go in and see what it's like. When we get up to the thickets, we're going to spread out in a skirmish like.”
We moved on. With Taka and Churo to my left and Pete on my right, Pete once again moved off about thirty yards. As I angled off toward the thicket he was heading toward, he suddenly raised his rifle. Two shots in very rapid succession. This time I knew better than to ask for a hit report. In describing it to the trackers, I saw a rare smile from Pete. He turned to me.
“He was just standing there. I think I got him in the left shoulder. The second shot I'm not certain of. I shot at his ass as he ran off.”
Once again, we moved off; this time with Pete on the left, me on the right and the trackers in the middle, separated at about 10 yards each. A short time later, Pete urgently motioned me to his position. I moved over to where he was pointing his rifle and there was the Dugga Boy, broadside in the brush 20 yards away. None of the other three of us could see it, though we were a matter of steps from Pete's position.
“SHOOT” he whispered. I shot for the right shoulder as Pete's gun went off just behind mine. The Buff ran to our right about 15 yards and turned left more than180 degrees quartering toward us, as if (I swear it!) searching for us.
“Shoot him again!”. I fired forward of the left shoulder this time….460 grains of Belt Mountain solid at 2,000 fps that hadn't seemed to impress him yet. The far side shoulder crumbled and the animal headed almost directly toward us, stumbling along the way.
“Finish him!” I fired into the center of the chest and he went down. We watched for a minute as his blood spilled onto the ground from the chest shot. “He's just being a Buff, Pete said…..meaning, “Even though he was dying before the chest shot, he's still not gonna accept that fact easily.”
I stood, placed my left palm against a 4 inch tree, leaned and cradled the lever gun in the web of my thumb as I cocked the hammer. I confirmed my aiming point and touched one off. The entire herd tore off as I levered another solid into the barrel and tracked for a follow up.
“Wait, don't shoot!” Pete ordered. Teamwork, finally! I knew enough not to shoot at a running Buff in a herd. Pete knew enough to make the call the instant he saw me ready to fire.
What follows is a description of events as honestly as I can recall them, confirmed by Pete's memory. When relating a hunting story, “reporting” the events without coloring our own actions and reactions is more important to me than attractive prose and high drama. Too many hunters turn running, reloading gun battles into first shot kills by the time they return to camp. They always seem to accomplish 1 shot stops. I've had my share of these and killed two of my previous three Buff with the first shot, though one required two more hits to make up his mind that he was dead. This Dugga Boy would not go down so easily.
Those who shoot with me know that, unless I really flinch, I'm pretty good at calling my shots. Flinching a rifle has never been an issue in the field for me, though it can become so at the bench. The shot taken on this Buff broke without flinch, but it did not provide that perfect “surprise break” that pretty much guarantees our ability to call the shot. In retrospect, I believe I snatched the trigger a bit; but I was fairly confident that the hit was centerline of the body (high) and over the front shoulder. I called it a lung shot and hoped for the top of the heart and other lung as the bullet traversed the animal.
The news was good when we found the blood trail a couple of hundred yards away. Lung blood….red and bubbly. A half mile later the news got bad. The blood trail had disappeared and the Buff was still in the herd of 5. Another half hour of stalking and the news got worse; the Buff had left the herd. This meant that he was hurting for certain and very dangerous.
Much of what I report, I only learned from Pete after the hunt, such as the habits of wounded Buff. Due to the need for economy of noise in the stalk, we were not in a position to sit down for a long wildlife lecture. But what I did know was that the Dugga Boy had turned downwind into heavy brush where he could scent us and see us. At any given time there would be 6 or 10 clumps of brush within 50 yards in which he could hide and Pete kept trying to “hopscotch” the animal to a crosswind position, while maintaining contact with the track…and that the buff kept turning to keep us upwind, moving in a wide arc.
We stopped for a sitrep.
“Rich, this is a very, very dangerous situation. This Buff is wounded and knows we're on him. Sooner or later he's going to come for us. If we see him, do you want Taka and I to shoot.”
“Use your own best judgment, Pete.”
“Well, if you want to shoot him, you need to go in front.”
“I can't track him, Pete. Use your own best judgment.”
“OK, I want you to follow directly behind the trackers and be ready. If you see him, you must move to the side so that we're not shooting over each other. If he gets in the middle of us, DO NOT shoot one of us.” I was silent and just nodded my head. I've done more live fire in dynamic team situations than most hunters, but this was the real deal. Pete's admonition was well taken.
Reality check:
I always wanted to know what it would be like to stalk a wounded Cape Buff in the “thick stuff”. I just never wanted to be the one to CREATE the situation.
Am I frightened? Yes.
Am I shaking? No.
That's good.
Am I thinking clearly about the task at hand or worrying about the shot I took? Nope, I understand that the next shot is the only one that counts..
Also good. I was a ready as I was gonna be.
Realizing that I would never spot a Buff hiding in thicket in front of us before Pete, Taka or Churo, I concentrated on our sides and flanks, just in case The Hunted had grown tired of the game and made a sharp J-Hook to become The Hunter. I had given up my belief that wounded Buff “hunting the hunter” was just a myth.
About 20 minutes later, Pete separated to our right by about 30 yards to check out a heavy thicket in a small ravine. I heard a thunder of hooves and a shot, not _ second later. Pete had flushed the Buff and took a snap-shot with his .470 Nitro double. He would repeat this separation twice more this day, instinctively routing the Buff.
“Did you hit him?”
“SHHHHHSH!”
We sat and Pete came over. He whispered, “I think I missed him. I may have caught him in the guts but I don't think so.”
We moved on to where the animal crossed a road into more heavy brush.
“Rich, he's moving forward and hiding in these small thickets. This is very, very dangerous and I think we should call in another PH. We'll leave Danny with the truck and go in with four guns: you, me, Hilton and Taka.”
“Your call Pete.” The only problem was that I knew Pete had forgotten his radio in camp. The nearest radio was at Pete's truck, probably 2 miles away.
“OK, I'll tell you what. Let's go in and see what it's like. When we get up to the thickets, we're going to spread out in a skirmish like.”
We moved on. With Taka and Churo to my left and Pete on my right, Pete once again moved off about thirty yards. As I angled off toward the thicket he was heading toward, he suddenly raised his rifle. Two shots in very rapid succession. This time I knew better than to ask for a hit report. In describing it to the trackers, I saw a rare smile from Pete. He turned to me.
“He was just standing there. I think I got him in the left shoulder. The second shot I'm not certain of. I shot at his ass as he ran off.”
Once again, we moved off; this time with Pete on the left, me on the right and the trackers in the middle, separated at about 10 yards each. A short time later, Pete urgently motioned me to his position. I moved over to where he was pointing his rifle and there was the Dugga Boy, broadside in the brush 20 yards away. None of the other three of us could see it, though we were a matter of steps from Pete's position.
“SHOOT” he whispered. I shot for the right shoulder as Pete's gun went off just behind mine. The Buff ran to our right about 15 yards and turned left more than180 degrees quartering toward us, as if (I swear it!) searching for us.
“Shoot him again!”. I fired forward of the left shoulder this time….460 grains of Belt Mountain solid at 2,000 fps that hadn't seemed to impress him yet. The far side shoulder crumbled and the animal headed almost directly toward us, stumbling along the way.
“Finish him!” I fired into the center of the chest and he went down. We watched for a minute as his blood spilled onto the ground from the chest shot. “He's just being a Buff, Pete said…..meaning, “Even though he was dying before the chest shot, he's still not gonna accept that fact easily.”
Rich Lucibella
Staff
The Buff, After Action Report:
After Action Report:
42.5” horns. Pete has taken only one larger in this camp; Hilton, none.
Should we shoot a Cape Buffalo while it is lying down? It never occurred to me at the time. No one here feels it is un-sporting. I guess I'm OK with that. We generally shoot Leopard while they're lying down; Lion, too.
The Buff had 11 holes in him. 3 in the shoulder of the right side; 4 in the neck/shoulder of the left side. 1 high in the gut on left and 1 centerline in the gut on right. 1 right of the spine in the back and 1 in the chest. Based on the degree of blood drying and reaction from the shots, Pete and I agree that the following account is as honest as possible.
The Buff was hit by me, centerline and behind the diaphragm, almost amidships. I suspect that the animal was not broadside when laying down. His front half was quartered away from us; otherwise there is no way it would have caught lung. The bullet took him left of my intended placement and most likely caught the left lung without exit. Not good. Pete claims it probably would have died during the night, but I'm not at all certain this wasn't just for my benefit.
Pete's first snap shot did, in fact, catch him in the gut, high on the left side. It did not exit. He later shot it thru the left shoulder and the bullet passed out the right shoulder. As the Buff ran he hit it high on the back, right side. The bullet did not exit.
Next we each shot it thu the right shoulder, both bullets exiting on left. I then shot it thru the neck/shoulder on the left side, the bullet lodging in and breaking the right one. Finally was the heart shot.
Tough animals? I never would have believed just how tough!
The hunt of a lifetime? Well, how many people have ever hunted a wounded Dugga Boy in thicket as it continued to circle for wind advantage?
A necessary follow-up stalk? Yes, but only if you blow your first shot.
Is a telescopic sight an advantage to the first shot on Buff? To the extent that it allows you to “see better”, one might better find obstructions to bullet path and determine the exact position of the game when obscured (as it always seems to be here in Zim). But at 70 yards, the difference in bullet placement between scope and iron sights should be no more than an inch, if the shooter does his job properly. I hadn't.
I had wanted to blood the 50 AK with Buff. That's been done. Next time: My Blaser .416 with world class iron sights and quick release scope. First shot with the scope. If a follow up stalk is necessary, the scope comes off in less then 5 seconds. I don't ever intend a follow-up stalk on Cape Buffalo; but then, we never do.
After Action Report:
42.5” horns. Pete has taken only one larger in this camp; Hilton, none.
Should we shoot a Cape Buffalo while it is lying down? It never occurred to me at the time. No one here feels it is un-sporting. I guess I'm OK with that. We generally shoot Leopard while they're lying down; Lion, too.
The Buff had 11 holes in him. 3 in the shoulder of the right side; 4 in the neck/shoulder of the left side. 1 high in the gut on left and 1 centerline in the gut on right. 1 right of the spine in the back and 1 in the chest. Based on the degree of blood drying and reaction from the shots, Pete and I agree that the following account is as honest as possible.
The Buff was hit by me, centerline and behind the diaphragm, almost amidships. I suspect that the animal was not broadside when laying down. His front half was quartered away from us; otherwise there is no way it would have caught lung. The bullet took him left of my intended placement and most likely caught the left lung without exit. Not good. Pete claims it probably would have died during the night, but I'm not at all certain this wasn't just for my benefit.
Pete's first snap shot did, in fact, catch him in the gut, high on the left side. It did not exit. He later shot it thru the left shoulder and the bullet passed out the right shoulder. As the Buff ran he hit it high on the back, right side. The bullet did not exit.
Next we each shot it thu the right shoulder, both bullets exiting on left. I then shot it thru the neck/shoulder on the left side, the bullet lodging in and breaking the right one. Finally was the heart shot.
Tough animals? I never would have believed just how tough!
The hunt of a lifetime? Well, how many people have ever hunted a wounded Dugga Boy in thicket as it continued to circle for wind advantage?
A necessary follow-up stalk? Yes, but only if you blow your first shot.
Is a telescopic sight an advantage to the first shot on Buff? To the extent that it allows you to “see better”, one might better find obstructions to bullet path and determine the exact position of the game when obscured (as it always seems to be here in Zim). But at 70 yards, the difference in bullet placement between scope and iron sights should be no more than an inch, if the shooter does his job properly. I hadn't.
I had wanted to blood the 50 AK with Buff. That's been done. Next time: My Blaser .416 with world class iron sights and quick release scope. First shot with the scope. If a follow up stalk is necessary, the scope comes off in less then 5 seconds. I don't ever intend a follow-up stalk on Cape Buffalo; but then, we never do.
Attachments
Great job Rich!!!
My next trip to Africa is for a buff. (cmon money
) What a great story....hopefully the PH and you get along....nothing worse then being with a guide that doesn't click with you.....good luck the rest of the way and am looking forward to some more stories, Doug
My next trip to Africa is for a buff. (cmon money
) What a great story....hopefully the PH and you get along....nothing worse then being with a guide that doesn't click with you.....good luck the rest of the way and am looking forward to some more stories, DougRich Lucibella
Staff
The .50 performed well enough, for sure. This was an adrenalized Buff that took 4 hits from a .470 Nitro also, one to the shoulder and STILL ran off and waited on us. Pete is impressed by the 50, particularly because of the 7 round magazine. The next to the last shot went from base of neck on left thru to break the shoulder on the other side....an't ask for much better than that.
Tomorrow I'll post pics and (much shorter) stories of yesterday's Klipspringer and about 2,000 lbs of Eland from today. Off to the autopsy!
Rich
Tomorrow I'll post pics and (much shorter) stories of yesterday's Klipspringer and about 2,000 lbs of Eland from today. Off to the autopsy!
Rich