When Animals Attack.. by David Johnson

While hunting in Matetsi Unit 2 in Zimbabwe this past summer of 2009, I was constantly amazed at the calmness of the native guides and local people who have been hired as our camp staff. Myself, being raised in the city and a fan of outdoor adventure movies, all I could think about was the movie the “Ghost and the Darkness.” I guess growing up in this part of the world people have become accustom to truly wild animals.


Rolling along, approaching camp, everyone smiles and waves to us as if there wasn’t a thing to be concerned about. I had to keep telling myself this is WILD Africa anything can happen. Lions, Leopards, Elephants and more call this place home and defend it aggressively if anyone strays too far into their domain. Carefree and unconcerned, everyone proceeds with the days chores. What we all didn’t know is, things were about to change.

Hunting camps are typically the last place you’ll find wild game. Animals have gained a healthy respect for humans in this part of the world and for good reason. The natives have been hunting animals as food for centuries here. Therefore, wild animals usually stay far away or they end up in the pot for dinner. Yet every so often you hear stories about animals who loses their fear of people and gain the upper hand. This often doesn’t bode well for the unsuspecting human in the story.

With the sun at full midday power, our ride comes to a squeak and dusty stop. I make my way up the path from the open safari vehicle towards my hut. The smell of lunch cooking on the open fire puts new energy in my step. Unloading my backpack, rifle, belt and extra field clothing feels good. A splash of soap and water to cut the dust that covers me from head to toe, also helps to revive my spirits. Lunchtime, in safari camp is a time to relax and rest up a bit. Also it’s time to enjoy a bit of something shot fresh the day before. Impala or Sable steaks are excellent when prepared by our native cook. Complimented, with some locally grown vegetables and rice makes for a great meal. For my squeamish readers, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.

After our noon meal, we all look forward to enjoying a few hours of nap time before setting out again to see what the hunting gods have in store for us. Now I don’t know about you, but this is the hardest time for me to nap. The anticipation of the afternoon hunt is too much for this guy to take. The playback that runs through my mind include the sights, sounds and encounters of the morning. This is far too much information for my brain to process while trying to sleep. So relaxing the body is the goal, relaxing the mind, well that’s not going to happen for quite a while.

As Darren and I are just about to head to our huts, a rather concerned camp staffer comes running up to Darren. From the pace of his step and the concern in his voice, it’s immediately apparent that something is wrong. Darren turned to me and asked if I wanted to provide a service to the camp and add to my trophy list. “What is it”, I asked, “what’s going on”? Darren explains that for the past two years the camp staff have been terrorized by an aggressive group of Baboons. Their leader, an extremely large male, is known to sneak into camp and force his way into the food hunt through the grass roof. Once inside he would help himself to fresh fruit and vegetables used to feed the hunters and staff.

Unknowingly the camp staff would enter the hut only to be set upon by this fang toothed male. There was talk that one day this Baboon may kill one of the staff, which would only embolden his already aggressive behavior.

Upon hearing this I agreed to try and headed off to recover my rifle and binoculars. Darren had to clear our plan with the Government Game Scout, since shooting game in camp is frowned upon by the Zimbabwe Government. Since he travels with us and stays in our camp, his quick approval cleared our path and set our plan in motion.

This large male had as before entered the food hunt through the roof and had confronted the staff. With food in hand, the Baboon retreated to the brush where his troop anticipated his return. Focusing my binoculars, I could see about 6 Baboons milling about watching us to see what we were going to do. Darrin told me that other hunters have lobbed shots at them before, but none have been able to connect. I looked at Darren and ask, “Which Baboon is he?” Darren replied without taking his eyes off the group, “He’s easy to pick out, since he’s twice the size of the others”. “There he is”, Darren says, “he’s sitting behind that bush about 150 yards out, eating one of our tomatoes, do you see him?” “I don’t”, I replied, just too much brush in my way”.

Moving behind Darren and to his right, my new position gives me a better angle, “Now I can see him, “He is Big”, I say to Darren. “Biggest Baboon I’ve seen in the 11 years I’ve been guiding in Matetsi Unit 2, do you think you can hit him from here?” Darren says. Thinking back to the years of practice at the Shooting Range in Bristol Wisconsin , creating tiny group on paper from the bench at 200 yards, to develop not only the cartridge load I’m using, but to fine tune my shooting skills. I turn to Darren and smile, “I can shoot him through the tomato if you want me to!” “Take him when you get the chance, nothing fancy, just a good solid center shot should do nicely” he replied. Quickly finding a stable shooting position, I let the crosshairs settle on the tomato. Gripped firmly in the left hand of the Baboon, this beast looks up and in our general direction. Watching us, he shows literally no concern at all. Relaxed he squats behind his bush, taking bite after bite out of the tomato.

Checking my breathing, wind and natural point of aim, everything is ready. Holding on the Baboons chest just right of center due to the angle, I gently squeeze the trigger. I need to ensure there is no movement of the rifle at this critical time or the shot will go wide and miss this important target. The trigger breaks cleanly followed by the recoil’s gentle push against my shoulder. The muzzle blast lifts a cloud of dust and obscures my vision, “A fine shot, that’s it for him”, Darren says with a smile. I can hear the sound of Baboons scattering in the distance, and none too happy at that. “With their leader gone, they won’t be coming back here again”, says Darren.

Unaware, I realized that the camp staff were watching from behind us. As if I just scored a touchdown my cheering section begin to celebrate. To them, I may have done just that. No more worries, no more concerns for now. This is one beast, that they won’t need to fear anymore.

Approaching the Baboon, I kept a round loaded and the rifle at the ready. You cannot be too careful when approaching downed game. All too often, they can recover from a less than lethal shot only to attack from close range. This time, the shot was good and upon inspection, we realize how big this Baboon really was. With photo’s and congratulations complete, off to the skinning shed he goes. “In order to show their appreciation for what you’ve done here, the skinners are going to prepare him for a full body mount, it will take them the better part of what’s left of today to do this, but you did good, for everyone involved.” Said Darren. I replied to Darren, “I was just glad to be able to help those who have contributed so much to my latest African Wilderness Safari.

Africa 2001

Africa, The Dark Continent.

One of the greatest hunting destinations of all time. Since this was to be my first safari, planning was to become a year long effort. “Beginning with the end in mind”, the first order of business was to match up my check book with a reasonable trophy list and experienced outfitter.

 

I highly suggest for a first time safari hunter to consider a planes game hunt. During this hunt you will experience not only the beauty of Africa but the vast array of wildlife this content has to offer.
 

After much consideration, I finally selected Frontier Safari’s. Owned and run by Berry Burchell in the Republic of South Africa, Frontier is a top notch operation. Animals taken on the property are professionally skinned, salted and processed before they ever leave the ranch. Also, based on my experience, Barry only hires the best guides, trackers and staff. Combine all this with the huge tract of land that Barry’s family owns on which all hunting is done, you will easily have the fair chase hunting experience of a lifetime. My special thanks to the team at Cabelas Outdoor Adventures for recommending Frontier. COA is a premier hunting consultant firm that works as part of the Cabelas family of companies. They excel at helping first timers get connected with exceptional outfitters. I highly recommend them. But as with any purchase, you need to know what you’re looking for before you go shopping.

 

Prep for this hunt starts with the equipment list. Two Rifles Remington 700 Stainless Synthetic in 338 Win Mag, scope 3-9 Leupold VXII Howa lightning, full Realtree camo in 270 Win, scope Tasco 8-32 World Class Ammo Hand-loaded 338 with 250 Grain Sierra Game King (excellent performance) Hand-loaded 270 with 140 Grain Sierra Game King (also excellent performance) Note-able Additions Harris Bi-Pod and sling (used for prone long range shooting) Rockey Cornstalker Gortex boots (a must for long hikes) BackPack – Crooked Horn Trail Blazer (excellent) Laser Range finder – Bushnell 1000 yard (a must) Binoculars – Leupold wind river 8x32 (10x42 would have been better)

 

The Trophy Selection

SA Kudu, Burchell’s Zebra, Black Wildebeest, Typical and Black Springbok, Duiker, Gemsbok, Blesbok, Mountain Reedbok.

The Hunt

After 37 hours of travel, Chicago to London, London to Johannesburg, Johannesburg to Port Elizabeth then by truck to the ranch. I arrive early evening and go directly to bed. 5am comes fast brining cool weather and clear skies. Meeting me in the doorway is Andres Fox, who will start out as my professional hunter, guide and in the end become a friend with whom I will hunt again on my return. Joining me and Andres are Mike and Michael who will act as tracker and skinner for our 10 day adventure. Both are natives to this area and have finely tuned skills that only generations of development could produce. We all climb into the open back Toyota safari truck and head out in search of our first heard of game.

As Andres bumps along across the vast expanse of the ranch we discuss my goals and preference for the hunt. I express to Andres that my first priority was to take a Burchell Zebra. He explains that they are the smartest of the lot and can be the most difficult to hunt. As we approach the top of a rolling hill, we are able to see far below as the terrain rolls downward and them up again in the distance. As we scan the lowland below we can see several hundred animals scattered about but yet moving together. In contrast to north American hunting where the game is elusive and uses the thickness of the forest to remain hidden from the hunter, Africans game use both the open terrain and the other members of the heard as protection. Therefore, the trick in hunting heard animals is to first be able to pick out the ONE trophy animal (if it exists) from all of the others, agree with your PH on which one that is, then shoot only that one, put it down BEFORE it merges into the fleeing group and exits to parts unknown forever. My first thought was, boy I’m sure glad I’ve spent as many hours behind these rifles over the past years practicing. Following up on a wounded antelope out here would be a real trick.

Andres reminds me of the ranches policy regarding shot game. If you wound an animal determined by blood and or hair and the animal is unrecoverable your forfeit this trophy and the fee. If you want another one, you must pay the additional trophy fee. I really like this rule. This puts the onus on the hunter to make a good shot or not take it. These are not targets, their living breathing animals and should be respected as such.

After some careful glassing with our binoculars, Andres spots 3 nice Buchell Zebras at the back of the group. We agree on a plan since they can see the truck but are not acting too concerned since we’re about a mile away and the doors haven’t opened. We sneak out the passenger door, which is opposite the heard. Crouching to keep out of sight we move to a nearby depression that we can follow to the right an then parallel towards the heard. Side hilling off to the right of the heard we finally reach a place where we can peek over and see the zebras still intently watching the truck for any sign of danger. Between them and us is a field of belt high grass, nothing more. This will required about a 100 yard low crawl through grass that could contain any number of snakes or other surprises. Only Andres and I make our way through the grass. As I’m low crawing I can hear other things moving around us in the grass. I am poking my rifle in front of me as I proceed hoping that if something is going to strike it will hit the rifle and not me.

Finally we reach a spot where I can see the largest of the zebras from belly to ears. A perfect broadside pose. I take a half kneeling half sitting position due to the height of the grass around me. Just as I’m about to take the shot, a small male blessbok walks up to the side of the zebra and puts himself directly in the way of an easy vitals shot. It seems like an eternity before a female blessbok walks past and he follows clearing the way. Just one more step and boom…off goes the 338. Upon the shot, the entire heard takes off for parts unknown. As I recover from the recoil and come back on target, I turn to see Anders standing looking through his binoculars. Suddenly I am greeted with a back slap that nearly puts me on my face since I’m off balance half kneeling. Anders reports with a big smile, All I can see are 4 legs sticking up in the air. Nice shot, the Zebra is yours.

The 250 grain game king found its mark and cleanly entered and exited in a single instant. Now the real work begins as they say in big game hunting. Except with the two Michaels along, my work ended with the shot. They made short work of cleaning the zebra, backing up the truck and loading up. Andres returns from the truck with a bottle of Clip Drif.. a local brandy. We celebrate with a shot and bask in the glow of a well executed stalk. Hand shakes and smiles accompany us back towards camp.

As we bump back to camp I hear a thumping on the roof made by one of the two Michaels who are in the open back of the truck. Andres hits the breaks and starts to scan with his bino’s. Michael says something to Andres in their native language, he turns to me and says hurriedly, bring your rifle and follow me. Out of the truck we climb and down a hill towards a stand of what appears to be three evergreen type trees. We lay below them and can see three large Black Wildebeest about 150 yards away. Their thick black coat and powerful front shoulders make them stand out against the green grass and red soil. After a few minutes of glassing these three, Andres recommends on of the three as a excellent trophy. This time its easy shooting with a solid prone position and the aid of the harris bi-pod attached to the front sling stud of the 338. The quartering away shot is in my opinion one of the deadliest of all on large game. It takes out a cross section of the most important of all internals. Upon impact the other two scatter leaving the largest of the bulls only 20 yards from the point of impact. No tracking needed on this one.

Again Michael and Mike to their magic, load the truck and now we are returning with not one but two trophy class animals and its barely noon. How lucky can a guy get?

The next several days follow a similar profile. Up early, rumble around the vastness of the African bush and stalk the biggest and best that we come upon. This country is amazing with the sheer diversity of game. We see Ostrich, herds of blue Wildebeest flocks of Ginni fowl and much more. Over these next several days I take a record book Blessbok, two nearly matching springbok, a nearly record winning Duiker and more.

Over the past days of hunting with Andres I noticed a trend taking shape. Each animal I took was from a longer range. My Kudu was eventually taken at 384 yards. I finally asked Andres if this was part of the plan. He told me he was wondering how far I could actually shoot game. I told him that the Kudu had been my all time record, but I wasn’t sure myself. This set Andres and I on a quest for the longest single kill shot in Frontier Safari history. It finally came down to a test.

Early one morning, the four of us set out to see what my gear and I were capable of. Back in Bristol Wisconsin at my home rifle range, I had been working on a hand load for my extremely accurate Howa bolt gun in 270. The bullets were Sierra 135 grain match molly coated, chronographed at around 2800 feet per second. They could easily print 5 shots within an inch at 200 yards. I’ve shot this load in Racine WI at the 600 yard DCM range. So not only was this load tested but the hold for 600 yards was also familiar to me. Andres and the two Michaels drove me up to a ridge where we could see forever. There was another high hill just across from us. Below was a small creek that flowed between the two hills. Brush and trees lined the creek so thick that it appeared to be impassible. Across on the opposite hill side was a small group of mountain Reedbok. In the group was a nice buck. Andres and the guys had a plan. I was asked to shoot the larger more mature buck. What I didn’t know is that they wanted me to do from here. This was the challenge they were putting me up against.

Just in case you aren’t familiar, the mountain reedbok is about the size of a small goat. Realizing what I was being asked to do, I reached into my pack and powered up my Bushnell laser range finder. Making a shot at these distances without a solid range would be nearly impossible. The viewfinder found the herd and recorded a distance of 589 yards. This was comforting since this was nearly the same distance I had shot accurately in practice. Knowing that wind and temp would have an impact I was grateful that the wind was nearly still and the temp was within 10 degrees of my last range date. Confident that I would have a reasonable chance, I attached the Harris bi-pod to the rife, found a reasonably flat spot and went prone. Loading two rounds into the Howa, ensured my ability to follow up if needed. Looking through the scope at 8 power really gave me an idea how far these animals really were. Only after bringing the scope up to a full 32 power, was I actually able to place the small target dot on the vitals of the buck.

Remember, breathing control, trigger control and sight picture. These and other hard learned lessons from my many Hi-Power completion days came rushing back. This time it really meant something. Keeping perfectly still while breaking the shot was my most important concern. The slightest movement either way at this distance would result in a total miss or worse, a wounded buck nearly 600 yards away.

When the shot came, it seemed like seconds before the tiny bullet made the long trip from one side of the valley to the other. Looking thorough the scope I was able to see the impact centered on the side of the reedbok as it collapsed and tumbled 20 or so yards down the opposite hill side. Almost as surprised as I was, Andres looked at me and commented, “Mighty Impressive Shot”. Both Michael and Mike we on their feet waiving their hands in the air and cheering like attendees at a royal soccer match.

The balance of the trip went as planned. After it was all over, I was able to visit the taxidermy studio in downtown Port Elizabeth. It was very impressive. Since this was a newly opened facility, I was able to meet the taxidermist in charge who was on assignment from his home in Montana. He and his team were on site training the new staff that would eventually take over and run the studio. He was kind enough to assure me that he would personally take an interest in my 9 mounts. 4 months later the crate arrived with exceptional results and high quality work for the region. If you ever wanted to go to Africa on safari, I would highly recommend Frontier Safaris.

Zimbabwe Safari Part Three… Crossing Paths with a Record Book Sable!

by. David Johnson

As we welcomed each new sunrise from behind our makeshift blind, peering through the fleeting darkness as morning’s new rays bathed the African bush, the promise of another wild African adventure began to unfold. In the distant darkness the huff of lions at the bait, once a point of concern, became common and almost welcomed. As the light chased the darkness, the night hunters moved into the shadows for a day long nap. With the coast clear, we moved forward and inspected the bait. Again no hyena tracks only lion. With two Hyena tags burning a hole in my safari pants, I became resigned to the fact that it was time to change our strategy.

Leaving the bait, Darren and I return to the trail. Our trackers waiting in the distance, are trained to bring the safari vehicle either at the sound of a rifle shot or 15 minutes after sun up. Stowing our gear in the fully supplied Toyota 4x4 we agree to make a push deep into the hills of Matetsi Unit 2 and pursue the large Sable male that eluded us the prior day.

Unit 2 can be described as a mixture of large flat pan’s with cross cut riverbeds buffered by gently rolling hills. Boarding Botswana to the west and a managed forest lands to the north, this clump of densely brushed wilderness proves excellent habitat for a myriad of species. Without fences, large herds of mixed game species roam freely across these nations borders. More importantly, MU2 is well known for holding large sable bulls. This is the key reason I’ve selected this area from all others in Africa.

Since arriving and covering many miles, we’ve seen mostly immature males, small family groups composed of females and calf’s, except for the brief sighting and unsuccessful stalk on what appeared to be an excellent bull. As the hours rolled by I starting to second guess myself, did I pick the right area? Was this the right month? Was it too dry? Noticing my concern, my PH reminded me that mature male Sable Bulls are very territorial. They can sometimes be seen traveling within a family group or more commonly out alone inspecting their range and driving out any trespassing rival males. But “they are here and haven’t gone anywhere”, Darren reassures me.

At each new game sighting, we stop and glass to assess the animals in each group. Among the occupants of our latest sighting is a lone solitary Bull Buffalo who parallels our truck but keep us in view through the thorn bush. If I were buffalo hunting, he would have been an excellent challenge. His wide deep curls and solid shinny bosses gives this duggaboy all the characteristics of a spectacular trophy. The Giraffe to our left, feeding along on the tender tops of the trees seems to care nothing about our approach. I am able to quietly exit the vehicle and walk to within 50 yards or so before even being acknowledged. Then he gracefully trots away, but not before I snap a few photos. Further down the trail, Ostrich on fully trot pace the truck then dart in front of us then disappear in the protection of the bush. The amount of game here is amazing and is truly a bonus for anyone experience.

Leaving the savanna behind, we approach the lower deep cut steam beds that run through this area. The brush and tress thicken and green up as we near. Looking about, I notice that the banks are deeply cut. This indicates that during the rainy season these gentle brooks turn into raging torrents. Large logs and debris lay far beyond the channel. Plants and brush can be seen in the branches 5 feet up in the trees that line the bank. Yet today, all is calm and peaceful, only a few inches of cool clear water passes below our vehicle. I’m glad it’s the winter dry season.

These low dense areas hold a broad yet different range of game, from waterbuck to baboon, from Impala to bushbuck. I was hoping that our Sable bull may have gotten thirsty and we could pick up his trail down here, but we are on the far end of his suspected territory so I’m not expecting much. Checking the tracks along the shoreline we note the movement of a family group of sable. On foot we decide to check this place out in earnest. A few hundred yards downstream rounding a curve, the wave of our trackers hand get’s our attention. Darren translates for me, he says we just crossed the track of a large sable bull. It could be the one we are looking for. We inspect the track and plot a course to intercept. But first we must prepare.

Back to the truck, we load up our packs with water and essentials. One never knows how long something like this is going to take or what we may run into. For example, about a half mile into our stalk, to our total surprise in the trail ahead a 7 foot Mozambique Spitting Cobra rises to make our acquaintance. A quick but well placed shot, drops the snake and clears our path forward. A bite from this guy could really put a damper on anyone’s day. Further ahead our trackers kill two Puff Adder’s who refused to move off the trail. No Black Mamba and I couldn’t be happier. They are really the only snake in Africa that gives me serious concern.

With our snake challenges hopefully behind us, we forge ahead deeper into the bush. Following these wandering trails carved deep into the soil remind me of Midwestern deer trails back home. These well used game trails give us the advantage of tracking and traveling more efficiently. Within an hour, we bump a small group of Kudu which are off like flagging whitetail. This prompts us to slow down and watch each step. Our sable bull won’t hang around long if he hears us coming. Over the next rise, a small meadow of yellow grass provides a clear backdrop for the dark black shape casually feeding near its center. His jet black coat, tan marking and large curved, nearly full circle horns identify him as our Sable Bull. Looking him over quickly yet carefully for size and horn damage, eases our concerns yet heightens our excitement. The moment of truth comes when your PH sets up his shooting sticks and gives you the green light to make your shot. For me the next few minutes are often a blur. The rifle comes up, the crosshairs find their mark, the safety comes off and I just start to squeeze while fighting the rush to just shoot and get it over with. Once the 338 barks and pushes me back, I strain to listen for the telltale “Whack” of a bullet hitting something thick and solid. There it is, and off goes the Sable. Wheeling around and into the wall of grass he goes, faster than I can even contemplate a follow up shot. The 225 Grain Barnes Triple Shock should have caught the bull in the left front of the chest since he was nearly facing me but angling a bit right. We trot to the location of the impact and look for sign. Surprisingly we only find a little blood. A drop on this blade a few more several feet further a few more beyond that. We continue to follow each drop with growing concern that the shot may have been off its mark and possibly less than fatal.

This is a trophy hunter’s worst nightmare. In Africa, if you shoot at game and blood is found yet the animal is not recovered, your fee is due and payable as if it were found. This prevents hunters from recklessly taking wounding shots at game without concern for the animal or cost.

Continuing to follow the droplets for nearly 100 yards, Darren and I simultaneously both spot a large dark shape on the ground in a small clearing 50 yards to our left. As we turn to look at each other, stony looks of concern turn into excited smiles of relief that only success can bring. Approaching carefully to ensure this 500 pound king of the antelope species isn’t playing dead, we circle around to the rear. The bull looked big from a distance but he kept getting bigger as we approach. No ground shrinkage with this brute. Darren’s excitement surprised me a bit. With his 11 years of hunting experience in MU2 I was sure he would take this bull in stride. I expected to hear, “it’s a good bull, very typical for MU2”. But once his tape measure came out of his pocket, I new something was up. Darren explained that the record for the area was 46 inches per side, his carefully measured total was 44 inches per side. Just two short inches of the record. Over 104 inches overall, clearly meeting all requirements for the SCI record book. A truly amazing animal.

The rest of this day ends just like all other successful day afield, with photos, smiles and a sense of accomplishing something extraordinary. My personal thanks to Darren and my two trackers, who without their keen hunting and tracking skills this day would not have been likely. With three days left and a few tags to fill, this trip is really turning out well. I wonder what tomorrow will bring. I can’t wait.

Zimbabwe Safari Part Two

Lions and Leopard - Upclose and Personal

by David Johnson

After delivering my Impala Buck to the skinning shed, it was time to scout out the pan, just beyond where we had setup our Hyena baits. This large flat area of elephant grass and scrub trees was known to hold good Sable. Darren had seen good Sable in this area before. It was about a 10 miles across some local flatlands, a bit of rolling hills and then down to the pan’s main trail. This would be an easier ride than the cross country trek we took the prior day where we were crossing streams, climbing hills and blazing trails. Following the main trail to camp we circled around the back side of the field and exiting the safari truck. The team composed of Darren the PH, our two trackers, the government game scout and myself started to peel off our cold weather layer that insulated us against the cold winter morning. Thirty five degrees is not uncommon during the African winter, but warming up into the 70’s by mid day is just as common. With our vehicle covered in outerwear, the team headed down a well worn game trail that paralleled the grass. This gave us a reasonable opportunity to see anything working the edges. The grasslands can be both safe and extremely dangerous for game. It offers the safety of the cover, but doesn’t prevent game from walking into a deadly close encounter with a predator as we would soon experience.

Working the edges of the grassland requires quiet stalking, an eye for movement and the ability to stay low and out of sight. About a city block into our stalk we spotted the black rump of a mature Sable bull. As luck would have it, the business end of the Sable was totally obscured by a rather thick clump of brush. The inability for us to see his horns left us wondering just what we had. After a few brief minutes, the Sable turned to look back. I can only presume he heard us talking. I’m not sure who was more anxious, us or him. Once our eyes met, we both reacted. He ducked into the grass which was twice as tall as he was, while I tried to pull up the rifle to make a shot. He was faster. That left Darren and I looking at each other with wide eyes and eager grins. Darren motioned for the team to follow him at a brisk trot. Down the trail we went while still paralleling the grassland. Circling in about a 500 yards down, Darren instructed one of our trackers to climb a tree and see if he could identify which way the Sable went. His dark black coat should stand out nicely against the dull yellow of the grass. The dexterity of our tracker was amazing. Up the tree, limb to limb bending slightly under his thinly weighted frame he reached a vantage point. Pointing is hand he looked down at us and motioned the direction of the sable. In only minutes we were headed into the grass on an interception route. It can’t be this easy I thought, as I pushed back the ten foot poles of grass just bending enough to let me pass. I wondered what the heck I would do if we came face to face with this 500 pound Sable in this tall grass. I could barely make out the guy ahead of me let alone a fast moving Sable. I’m sure I’ll need to think of something if it happens I said to myself. After crossing the field, it was obvious our prey was no dummy. He circled back the way he came, mixed is tracks with those of other animals, headed across the trail we cut and disappeared into the thick tangled bush beyond the grassland. To the credit of our trackers, we were able to follow him for a few miles. He had us at a disadvantage since he knew where he was going and we didn’t, all we could do was follow. With no way to catch him at his pace, so we stopped and decided to back off. Tomorrow or the next day we can check this area again. I was told that Sable bulls are rather territorial. They can be found either with their herd or patrolling their area looking for other bull intruders to run off. Since we knew where the herd was, we could start to pattern this big guy.

Since Sable don’t stick to the roads when being pursued, we now found ourselves deep in the bush with only our trackers to find our way back. These guys really know this region well so off we go up and down hills, across pan’s, through thick brush across streams and more. Along the way we bumped Kudu, Impala and other wildlife. Reaching the top of the next rise, we find ourselves facing a large brush and tree covered knoll. To all our surprise, thirty yards in front of us lying in the grass two 5 year old 400 pound male lions stand up to greet us. Everyone took a deep breath and readied for the next move. Rifles up and ready for action Darren and I waited to see what these two would do. To our amazement, they just looked back at us seemingly uninterested. After what seemed like 10 minutes, the left one laid back down while the other turned around and disappeared into the thick brush. I felt better when I could keep an eye on both of them. So I suggested we turn and continue to move parallel to the visible lion and headed about 75 yards further up the trail. Turning to see if we were being followed, I was shocked to see the missing lion appear from the bush and now standing in my boot prints exactly where we just were. He looked up the trail in our direction but never did follow us. At least that’s what I kept telling myself as we put as much distance between them and us as we could. Just when I thought it couldn’t get more exciting, we entered an area of very dense grassland, moving single file to minimize the effort of breaking our own trail. Unexpectedly we heard the bounding sounds of a small antelope reacting to our presence. Rising from its bed and keeping a safe distance from us this antelope suddenly stopped and began to scream and trash about in the brush. A sickening crushing sound put an end to the duikers cries. All went still. No movement other than the telltale tops of the grass which exposed the direction of the slightest of breeze. The thought of those two lions shadowing us from our last encounter crossed my mind. In this thick grass we wouldn’t stand a chance. Reacting to the moment, Darren and I rushed the spot to see what we were dealing with. Not the smartest thing we could have done, now that I’m back in my office writing this. As we spread the shafts of elephant grass we startled a large female leopard. Staring at us with the duiker antelope hanging from her jaws, obviously mortally wounded with its throat and spine crushed. She dropped the duiker, jumped back and dashed into the grass behind her all in a split second. I’m certain that the only reason we got away with this move was due to the fact that it was broad daylight. If it were night time, I’m sure the result of surprising this leopard would have been quite different and not to our liking. The duiker was still alive but mortally wounded, so with a single movement of our hunting knife we ended it’s suffering, laid it down and backed out. This would allow the leopard to reclaim her meal while taking her attention off of us. I’m sure she didn’t go far and was contemplating her next move. We didn’t stick around to see what that was going to be. We pushed on through the final section of grasslands, up the hill and located our vehicle.

As we loaded ourselves into the truck with no Sable, sore feet, sweaty clothes and a bit wore out, all I could think, is how lucky we were to be in one piece. Let me say this… Coming back empty handed, is totally acceptable when you can return at the end of the day with memories to last a lifetime. And this was one of those days.

Little did I know what Africa had in store for us over the Next few days.. This trip only got better and better. You know, for me it’s easy to sleep when I’m tired both physically and emotionally, but when you figure in the anticipation of the unknown this is what makes even tired hunters like me toss and turn.

Stay tuned for Part Three… Sable, another chance meeting!

Queen Charlotte Islands.. King Salmon Run 2009

Queen Charlotte Islands 2009!!

Turns out that the big ones were running but the Weather tried to keep us all off the water..

More to come as I get time to write this up... stay tuned for more...

DJ's Success in Zimbabwe Safari Hunt

Zimbabwe.

The African Experience – PART ONE - by DJ

As our plane landed in Victoria Falls Zimbabwe, my anticipation of the hunt was quickly over shadowed by the burning desire to get up and out of another airplane. I don’t mind flying but after 22 hours of sitting in these aluminum tubes with all their annoyances, I was thankful to stand up and walk a bit. Walking has never been an issue for me. Slogging through the Alaskan Arctic tundra or forging streams and climbing hills in British Columbia is a welcome pleasure compared to the confinement of flying. Overall I guess it beats the other travel alternatives by a country mile.

As our wheels touched down and we taxied to our designated spot, it was apparent that this semi modern airport seemed rather out of place against the rural African landscape. Simplicity and effectiveness abounded. No frills here, but none were expected. Pay your visa fee, apply the stamp to your passport, claim your luggage, clear your firearms and into the waiting hands of your outfitter.
Now, I’ve been picked by guides in every kind of vehicle imaginable, some were well appointed and ready to hunt and some barely able to keep the rain out due to the severe rust holes and junk yard quality condition. This time, it was a well kept but older British Land Rover. Visions of early 1950’s elephant hunting in Kenya flashed through my mind. This is exactly the kind of start I was hoping for as we moved out of the airport on towards Matetsi Unit #2, which would be our final hunting destination deep in the African bush.

Unit 2 is a complex mixture of grasslands, low rocky basins and rolling rock strewn hills. It’s located in north western Zimbabwe bordering Botswana. Our migration to camp takes us through, high savanna with broad tall grasses, dotted by flat topped tress where nesting birds of many types are often found surveying the dangerous lands below. The roads we follow are nothing more than the worn “two tracks” left behind from vehicles repeatedly passing over the same ground. Oddly enough, my guide reports that there were rains the prior week which has caused the brown dried vegetation so common to African winters to begin to green up as if we were in the first weeks of spring. This isn’t first time I’ve been told that “The weather is normally never like this.” I have a curse you know. Every time I go hunting the weather seems to go awry. Like Argentina in their winter of 2003 when it was 100 degrees by mid day, and I was to bring Wool and gloves, the Arctic in 2007 when I got off the plane for my Caribou hunt at it was 72 degrees and tee shirt weather. Shall I go on? You get the picture. Anyway, as we bumped along we took a detour to see a bit of the sights which included a broad barren strip of land, plowed out of the African wilderness which serves as the no-man’s-land border between Botswana and Zimbabwe. Wide enough for a four lane highway, this raw strip of land is patrolled by the Botswana military to minimize the amount of unauthorized cross border migrations made by the Zimbabwe locals seeking work.

Eventually we arrive at base camp. Composed of rock and thatch sleeping hunts, a skinning shed, guides quarters, dining hut and other supporting structures. As we roll up to the front of the compound in a dusty cloud, several of the staff came out to greet us brining our “new arrival” welcome drink. A custom in this part of the country, the drink is a tasty mixture of fruit juices and a touch of something a bit stronger. Fluted steam ware in the hands of these experienced rugged outdoorsmen added a touch of civilized charm to what was already staking up to be a truly wild African adventure.
Day One

After introductions and pleasantries our sleeping hut assignments were made. With gear stowed, it was time to change into something a bit more designed for hunting as opposed to travel. Since luggage handlers are not known for their delicateness the first order of business is rifle site in. This brief range session actually serves two distinct purposes. One benefits the hunter, the other the PH or Professional Hunter for short. The client gets to see how far out of whack their rifles are shooting and the PH get’s to see how far out of whack the client is when it comes to shooting. Oh I know we all feel we are good shots, but the number 1 issue that ALL of my guides have had with their clients over the years has been with marksmanship. Surprisingly even at rather close range. A pie plate at 50 yards doesn’t seem like much of a target for an experienced hunter. But, the last Safari client exhibited what amounted to be shotgun type patterns with his 375 H&H at just such a distance. Therefore, the best way to impress your guide is to shoot well during your site it. He will determine (based on your display of shooting skill, or lack there-of), how close he will need to get you to your quarry. With site in complete and assessments made, it was off into the bush to get a feel for the environment.

In my opinion shooting your primary animal the first day of your hunting trip can really shorten the overall experience. With this in mind you also have to weigh the possibility that any animal passed may not likely be seen again. Animals migrate in these areas over reasonably long distances including over country borders and between license units. Therefore, you must trust your guide when he tells you, “Let’s hold out for a really good one”. It takes a bit of faith to comply when it’s the biggest and best of the species you’ve ever personally seen.

Stopping the safari vehicle just before a well worn game trail we watched as one by one a large group of Sable antelope crossed in front of us. Darren my PH assessed each animal as it appeared. Wait for the last one, that will be our Bull. As the jet black bull finally appeared his extremely impressive horns created the rush of adrenalin that each hunter feels when faced with the opportunity to take an exceptional animal. “Let him go Dave”, Darren said, “he’s a good one, but we have plenty of time and I think we can find an even better one”. To the point of amazement I was stunned at Darren’s comment. “But, Darren you can be serious, this is the kind of Sable most hunter dream of taking”, I said. He replied “you have to remember where you are, this is one of the best units in Africa for Sable, good isn’t good enough for this area and remember I have a reputation to uphold you know!” At that point I needed to either call him out or trust him. Since Darren has eleven years of experience guiding in unit 2, I though it wise to go along with the program. As you will see later, I’m glad I did.

Day one ended just in time to clean up before dinner. The dust and dirt from the day’s adventures covered most all of us. With darkness approaching we settled in for a well prepared meal. The next day was going to be more work than hunting so with dinners conclusion and a bit of chit chat around the fire pit, it was off to bed for some we’ll deserved rest.

Day Two begins with breakfast, yawns and bit of planning. Darren explains “Today we collect some old Leopard baits, the prior client used”., “we’ll find a good spot to hang them and possibly we can attract and hold some Hyena’s past sun up”. “That may be the only way to give you a shot at filling your two tags”. “Sounds like a plan”, I said and off we went. Finding these baits required extensive knowledge of the area. The trees in this region all seem to look alike. Getting lost on these grasslands which extend over 5 feet or so above the vehicle seemed like a real possibility, since it offered us near zero visibility. True to his training Darren pulled up in a small clearing and the team piled out. Our tracker removed his shoes and climbed the tree in front of us, straight up twenty feet or better only to shimmy out on a branch holding the hind quarter of some type of antelope, possibly zebra. Meat exposed for several days to the African sun, and no skin, its origin are all but unrecognizable. I won’t dwell on the smell but let’s say I wouldn’t recommend using this meat for anything other than bait. I had clearly exceeded its freshness date, but according to the team, that’s when bait is most effective.

With the 4 baits collected and consolidated into back of our now reeking, stinking four wheel drive, we located a place to consolidate and hang. Once complete, I was really glad to put some distance between me and the meat.. If Hyenas are attracted by scent, I would presume that our bait would collect Hyena from at least a few thousand miles in each direction, wind or not. Ok I’m exaggerating a bit, but I think you get the picture.
The strategy for the Hyena hunt is to get up the next several mornings well before sun up and park the vehicle a mile before the bait. On foot, follow a trail in the dark that will lead to our blind 60 yards or so from the meat. Peer over the branches of our makeshift blind and if possible take a shot at a big hyena just as the sun provides enough light to see. Sounds plausible, so my feeling is.. I’m excited, let’s do it!

The balance of the day is composed of photo ops with Cape buffalo, Giraffe, Elephant, Eland and more. Every turn in the bush held one surprise after another. Some more exciting than others. Coming face to face with a 7 foot Mozambique Spitting Cobra wasn’t one of my calmest moments. Rising out of the trail in front of us, daring us to pass, resulted in a hail of lead that put a quick end to our road block. Unwilling to get close to this large snake even in death, the team took a short detour and linked up with our trail a ways down. The bush was so thick, keeping to the trails was really the only option. Also with the Puff Adders and Cobra lurking around, staying on the trails was also necessity to survival. We ended the day with meals and stories. Which is exactly the way every day ends on an African Safari, providing all goes well, and this day it did.

The morning of day three started at 4:45am, a bit of breakfast and a small fire offered the greatest creature comforts to the team. Everyone seemed unusually quiet this morning as we focused on the challenges ahead. With frosty windows due to the near freezing temperatures the ride down the dark trail returned me to my Texas deer hunting days. Bone chilling bumpy drives in the hill county, stopping only to park the pickup and walk the last mile by moon and star light to the elevated box blind. Returning to the present, the safari vehicle came to a slow rolling stop, a few quiet words from Darren out the window to our over dressed team riding in the open back signaled our arrival. The brisk air on our faces erased any sleepiness remaining, but the sounds of the African night heightened everyone’s senses. As in Texas we would be walking the last mile by moon light, but this time while hearing lion’s calling out to each other in the dark. Imagine being in a zoo without fences, except this time the lion’s and other animals may be watching us. I am reminded that they can see much better in the dark than we can. Darren instructs our passengers to come down and follow us. The cautious and nearly apprehensive look on our game scouts face in the glow of the trucks soft lights said volumes. This young 19 year old grew up in a small bush village not far from hunting unit 2. I’m certain that he was taught from childhood about the dangers that abound away from the safety of the village at night. Only now he was grown and supplied with a well worn Chinese AK47 assault rifle, with 18 rounds in its magazine. Feeling the cold steel in his hands only made him feel a bit more protected. Upon hearing the bolt close on the AK47, Darren our PH sternly instructed the young Scout to open the bolt. Darren’s concern was for the three of us. If we did get charged on the trail, the scout’s singular thought to save himself could cost us all our lives, as a flood of AK rounds would cut down everything in front of him, including us.

With the bolt open on the AK and everyone pointed in the right direction, we got moving up the trail. Our eyes slowly begin to adjust to the darkness of the African night. Various outlines of trees against the bright stars gave a sense of direction but not much more. Even with the light of the moon and stars, ten feet away within the blanket of darkness and shadows, the mind congers up the animals of nightmares. Fangs and claws just waiting for the right time to pounce. The only way to keep one’s composure is to push these thoughts away and remained focused on one footing, the trail ahead and the possibility of real action to come once the shooting starts. After what seems like hours following the well worn animal trail, we arrive at the bits of toilet paper left behind to mark our entry into the narrow lane cut to guild us to our blind. The tracker and games scout are now instructed to stay behind and only Darren and I will be permitted forward. Making any sound or misstep on this final approach could mean either an empty bait or an unintended meeting with some of African’s top predators. Each step has 100% of my focus.

Our blind was nothing more than a few branches cut and skillfully interwoven and propped up against a small living tree. It was simply created to shield our movements from the watchfully eyes of our intended quarry. If there were Lions at the bait as opposed to Hyena, and they heard anything unusual, they would come to satisfy their curiosity. This reinforces our desire to make each step forward and silent as humanly possible. Our approach was perfect, too dark to see as yet as waited for the sun to peak up just enough as to get a glimpse. With Binoculars up and focused at our bait, Darren struggled against the darkness to see if we had any visitors. Standing back to back, I would watch our back trail to ensure that we we’re not being followed and surprised from behind. Finally with enough light to see, our first stalk only served as a practice run. With no shots fired and full visibility, the truck approached our stand and we walked forward to inspect the bait. Lion hair appeared caught in the comb like bark of our bait tree. They had found the meat and had moved off to rest as the hot African sun started to warm the ground. Looks like another stalk or two before this hunt is over. As we drove away, each of us was now able to relax and take pride in our own personal fortitude.

With a early start and the sun just coming up, we took advantage of being close to a huge expanse of grasslands know to be frequented by Sable. Following a trail away from our Hyena bait a hundred or so yards we cut the track of a mature male Sable. Quietly following, we entered an area of mixed elephant grass and trees. Not far head we could make out the round black shape of a Sable rump. Unfortunately his horns were obstructed by the tree and brush. Since we are so close it didn’t take long for him to become aware of our presence and with that he took a few steps into the eleven foot tall grass and disappeared. Darren get’s rather excited at the brief glimpse of this old bulls horns and instructs us all to continue down the trail at a trot. His plan was to have our tracker climb a tree and spot the old bull in the grass. Then, by dead reckoning find our way through the grass to intercept. Meeting up a few hundred yards down the trail our native tracker climbed down from a tall tree and pointed the way through the grass. Twenty minutes later we found the old bulls tracks and follow him for several hours. Many miles later, we gave up. The old boy had headed over a rocky area with numerous other animal signs and gave us the slip.

At this point, we now find ourselves well off the main trail and deep into uncharted territory. All around us Kudu, Impala and warthog pop up and run off as we make our way back to the trailhead. With Impala on my tag list, it was time to take advantage of an opportunity. The herd ahead of us became aware of our approach and stood up from their remote bedding area. From the back of the group a male appeared and stood broadside watching us while others were contemplating their escape. Darren put up the shooting sticks and braced for the blast from my rifle. The 338 I was carrying was not the intended rifle for the impala before me, but for the much larger Sable we had been pursuing. It would do the job, but being “over-gunned” would be an understatement. Returning my thoughts to the task at hand, the Impala went to turn and leave, I needed to act and act promptly. The shot bucked the rifle against my shoulder and the herd of impala dispersed like a flock of startled pigeons. As we trotted up to the site where the buck last stood, we were surprised to find no Impala and no trace. Could I have missed this easy shot? It wasn’t’ more than 100 yards. You really start to doubt your abilities as the team continued to look for tracks or sign with nothing indicating a hit. Just then my confidence was restored when Darren turned to me with a smile and extended hand. He found the buck not 40 yards from the place we saw him last. The tall grass was preventing us from seeing him and the small hole on either side reminded me how important bullet selection is. The Barnes TSX acted just like a solid, never getting the chance to expand, leaving a very minimal blood trail, which is so critical for tracking in this country. To get a closer look, I knelt down next to the Impala buck, lifted his head to admire his heavy figured horns. It had been many months since my last hunt in Wyoming, where I took an awesome whitetail buck. I had the same sense of satisfaction then as now, admiring his beautiful coloring. He will make a splendid trophy I thought as I thanked the team. This first success made me feel good and even more connected to the African landscape. Confidence restored and the day young, we took our photos, loaded the fine antelope into the truck and headed for the skinning shed.

One down, five to go…. Stay Tuned for PART TWO --

Heart Pounding Black Bear Search - Alaska

 Why I Carry a Pistol While Bear Hunting!

Landing in Yakatut is like flying into any of the Alaskan costal village towns. Half the plane is freight and the other half is an odd mix of hunters, business people and a local or two. After exiting the plane and entering the small room size terminal I get a sense that the cargo is more anticipated than the new comers. All sorts of crates, boxes and products are unloaded prior to our gear. So we sit and wait. They must see a fair number of short timers here. Well, I’m only here for 6 days so I grab my gear off the rack and meet up with my outfitter after a good 30 minute wait.

Once the introductions are complete, we all head down to the docks with our gear. Rifle’s uncased and put into soft cases, anything that can be left behind is stored at the dock. We load 4 of us and provisions into the 18 foot v-hull aluminum boat and head up the Inland Passage to our tent camp.

Motoring back and forth from island to camp provides ample opportunity to site see and take photos. No bear for the first few days. Weather is nice but its early spring and things can change quickly up here. The 3rd day my guide SAM spots a big black bear across the inlet walking along the shore on the mainland. We scramble to the boat and fire up the pull start motor and start heading for a small island about the size of a tennis court. There is no sand up here just cinder block size pieces of broken granite. Walking on this stuff is comparable to walking the Olympic balance beam without the benefit of the stability. Each block you step on can be either locked in place or ready to shift at the slightest touch. Anyway, here we are pulling up on the south side of this small pile of rocks they call an island. One lonely tree has found a home here and it’s surrounded by tangles and junk. Mostly washed up stuff from storms and high tides. I can’t imagine being on this rock in bad weather. Back to the bear, he is still walking the beach headed our way. As I position myself for the shot, I hear a distant rumble of another outboard motor behind me to the right. I can’t believe this. A local has decided to go for a joy ride and is cruising the shoreline. Returning my focus on the bear, it appears that he’s also heard the sound and has turned around and is headed the opposite way away from the pesky human. This forces us to scramble back in our boat and move to north side of the island to try and head him off before he gets away. Getting in position again, you can’t believe my temper as I hear the sound of the boat again which has followed us to get a closer look at what we are doing. It did cross my mind to change from bear hunting to something more sinister as the bear does another about face and returns to his original course and direction. So just like the keystone cops, we again pile back to the board and return to our original south side shooting position. At this point I think our local has finally figured out what was going on and had the decency to stay away and allow us to get on without another interruption.

Back on arrival day, my guide Sam instructed me to take careful aim and make the first shot count. But, he said with a smile, “Not to worry, you shoot him the first time and I’ll shoot him next with my trusty 375H&H and we will leave him right on the beach with no need to track him up into this thick coastal brush.” Fine with me I say, if I can eliminate the need to face an upset 7 foot tall 500 pound black bear in bush so thick I can’t see more than 2 feet ahead of me, you won’t get any argument here.

As I track the bear ambling down the rocky shore, I pick the spot for the shot. Sam has positioned his 375 just off to my left. I increase the zoom on my 16 power Burris Black Diamond scope and fill the image with bear. A careful breath and boom goes my 338 Remington. The bear reacts immediately by rolling down the rocks headed for the water. To my surprise, he stops himself just before falling in. Boom, the 375 goes off. To my astonishment, I see the bullet hit the rocks just about a foot behind the bear. The sound of this bullet smashing into the rocks scares this monster bear straight up the rocks and into the thick tangle of bush, brush and evergreen trees. I can’t believe my eyes. I look at Sam, who with a concerned look on his face asks me “how comfortable were you with your shot?” After the shock wore off and my mind was able to process his question. I replied, “A heck of a lot more comfortable than I was with your damn shot!!” A sheepish look came over Sam’s face only to admit that he still gets a bit flustered bear hunting.

Now we’re in for a real treat I thought to myself as we packed ourselves into the boat and headed for the last spot we saw the bear. Upon arrival, we listened to hear if we had anyone awaiting our arrival. All quiet, so we land on shore with the same uneasiness that our WWII fathers must have felt when they landed unopposed on a foreign beach.
As we exit the boat I noted that with bush this thick, there would be no way I could swing a rifle. So I unloaded it and put it back into its waterproof soft-case. Reach down, I un-holstered, opened the cylinder and added the 5th 500 grain cartridge to my Smith and Wesson Model 500. It seemed to calm my nerves and little. I started to feel a bit more prepared for what was ahead.

After collecting ourselves on the shore, we began to look for blood sign to begin tracking. Again to my surprise, NOT ONE DROP of blood was found anywhere. How can this be, I rolled this guy on my first shot? How much more exciting can this hunt get, I thought! Now I have to go into this thick stuff and find this guy. I’m sure he’s not happy with the fact that I shot him and almost dropped him into freezing cold salt water. I didn’t want to think about what he would do to return the favor. Sam’s hand on my shoulder brought me out of these thoughts and back to the present. He recommended we wait, but since Sam had planned on leaving the bear on the beach with his shot, I suggest he earned the right to go first. Being a great guide, Sam agrees and headed in; I followed and branched off to the left as Sam went right.

Let me tell you, with the hammer cocked and my heart pounding in my ears, anything that moved in front of me was going to get at least two 500 grain bullets before I will even realize what it is. With one hand moving brush away from me and the other holding the Smith, it seemed like hours to go only 15 yards. Every leaf and every twig that moved got my fullest attention. Just then, to my total relief, I hear Sam yell out “Yahoo, dead bear”. I turned and made my way towards Sam’s voice. There he was, standing over a beautiful black bear, laying belly down just like a rug, on a worn path just inside the tree line. The 338 Win Mag. was a perfect hit, catching him quartering away and traversing the vitals. As I knelt alongside admiring the thick black perfect pelt, I remember saying to myself, even though I didn’t fire this pistol in self defense I’m sure glad I had it with me. Whenever I’m hunting dangerous game and I’m permitted by local regulations to carry it… you will find it in my holster.. until it’s again time to load that 5th round and face the next challenge in the thick stuff.

Buffalo and Whitetail Deer Hunt 2008

David Johnson's Wyoming Nov 2008 IPY Ranch
More wild game than I’ve ever seen in a few short days!

Visualize 47000 acres of rolling wild hills, vast fields and rocky bluffs that provide perfect habitat for all sorts of western game. That’s a reasonable description of this better than most, hunting destination. Privately tucked behind the Devils Tower National Monument State Park, the ranch offers a hunter unparalleled opportunity to get close to north Americas largest big game trophy. Larger than Africa’s Cape buffalo, the North American Bison. This once numerous now recovering big game animal is not really a buffalo at all but a separate species altogether. This monster of the prairie towers over 5+ feet at his hump and a mature bull can weigh over 2500 pounds. Moving in groups with cows and calves or going it alone, the big bulls are a true North American trophy.

The Participants

Joel Miller, friend and hunting companion (see Alaskan Arctic Caribou Hunt), accompanied me on this years Wyoming adventure. Joel, a long time member of Arizona’s highway department, is also an accomplished guide in the wilds of Alaska. On several occasions Joel has had to shoot in self defense within feet as opposed to yards hungry pursuing Grizzlies. Our agreement to hunt the IPY ranch together started many miles further north.

Late September 2007, 10pm in a small tent 100 miles north of the Arctic Circle in Alaska, 2 hunters sat almost totally wore out from the days activities. Outside the tent, the meat from 2 big Caribou Bulls hung from the camps make shift meat rack. Inside the tent, Caribou back-straps nicely cooked shared the tin plates with instant potato’s and a cup of hot soup. Not many meals will ever taste as good or be more appreciated. After dinner with a few minutes to relax, conversation focused on aspirations of hunts yet to come. Joel had mentioned that he had always wanted to hunt the American Bison. Since I was already scheduled to go to the IPY ranch in Nov 08, Joel seemed an obvious choice. I was not surprised when Joel jumped at the chance to go along.

Planning for the big day.

Preparation for a buffalo hunt begins with firearm selection and days/hours of practice. Bison are large, durable and potentially dangerous game, therefore increased need for proper caliber and bullet selection is appropriate. Joel and I had both chosen the classic 375 H&H with low power scopes. Designed as a minimum caliber for Africa’s most Dangerous Game, this rifle and load combination should be perfect for north Americas largest game animal. Shot placement regardless of caliber is still critical. Following up on a wounded bull is not something to be taken lightly. Also, with large caliber rifles and low power optics, close in shots are usually the standard. Unless you’re hunting with me. Have you ever heard of “Murphys Law”? If not let me define. "If there's more than one possible outcome of a job or task, and one of those outcomes will result in disaster or an undesirable consequence, then somebody will do it that way"; "Anything that can go wrong, will," Ok, sound familiar. This is what I plan for every time I go hunting. Me and Murphy are well acquainted. Let me explain through a few examples. A few years ago, I flew from Chicago to Buenos Aires Argentina with plans to hunt Red Stag in their winter time. Not only did the plane from Buenos Aires to Santa Rosa choose to not complete the last leg of my journey resulting in an 11 hour bus ride from hell, but the weather was a balmy 100 degrees on noon the next day. My outfitter recommended that I bring wool clothes and long johns due to the expected cold winter weather. Ok, on the flip side of the planet, I was in the northern Arctic in October and instead of the normal COLD weather again, 72 degrees. Shorts and tee’s were the clothing of choice. You get where I’m going with this? Now I pack for anything.

Anyway, so Joel and I planned to meet up at the entrance to Devils Tower State Park. There is a nice gift shop called the trading post at the entrance which offers easy parking and a place to stop and buy a pop or use the pay phone. Cell coverage in this area can be spotty. Being prompt people, Joel and I hooked up and made our way through the park an onto the IPY ranch. Things look the same from 2 years ago when I hunted here last.

With deer hunting starting statewide on November 1st, our plan was to arrive on the 30th and hunt the buffalo on the first then move on to fill my deer tag over the following days. While driving to Wyoming, I was able to reach Joel in his truck and the C&A meat company team in Sundance. I usually try to keep C&A in the loop as to when we will be coming in. Buffalo are a lot of work and requires more time for processing. Sandy, one of C&A’s owners asked if we could PLEASE, PLEASE bring the buffalo in on the 30th as opposed to Nov first. She expected that nearly 100 deer would be arriving on the 1st and she would not have the room. With this new info, calls between Joel, I and the IPY ranch resulted in a quick change in plans. Joel and I would hunt buffalo the afternoon of our arrival in order to give C&A the ability to work through the night and get the two bulls processed before the flood of deer arrive. Hunting requires flexibility!


Upon arrival to the ranch’s bunk house, Joel and I unloaded our gear and changed into our hunting clothes. Rifles unpacked and ready to go, we split up and went looking for buffalo. On forty seven thousand acres even buffalo aren’t the easiest thing to find. George White (the ranch manager) and I set off in one direction and Joel driven by Jim Larson (guide extraordinaire) in another. After checking a number of normal hangouts and no buffalo in site we started across their vast tracks of prairie. Due to the high volume of spring rain, the prairie grass was tall, thick and healthy. It almost looked like a huge wheat field. In the distance we could make out the large black dot’s that often turn out to be grazing buffalo. Soon we were glassing a herd of 25 or so. Within the herd we were able to distinguish two good shooter bulls. George identified the larger bull as my shooter. I told George that since this was a meat bull for me, I would pass and reserve this bull for Joel, since he was going to mount his. My only challenge was that the aforementioned Murphey was alive and well and still with me. In my prior buffalo hunts the shots were well under 100 yards due to the forested areas where the bulls stayed out of site. With these bulls in the wide open, a long shot was the only shot. Using a 375H&H with 300 grain round nose bullets at 310 yards seemed less logical than say a 338 Lapua Magnum. Short of finding a gun store, I was going to need to make this work. Across the hood of the truck wasn’t going to work with the unpredictable nature of the wind and it’s impact on my site picture. Off hand was obviously not going to work, my high power rifle trained sitting position wasn’t stable enough, so prone was my only alternative. Finding a flat spot high enough to see over the prairie grass was the trick. After getting down and stable, using my sling I was able to settle the 4x power crosshair just behind the shoulder of my distant bull. Projecting the drop at 18 inches from zero was not much of a challenge due to the enormity of the bull. Waiting for a good broadside profile to ensure the first shot had the greatest affect is something I always strive for but sometimes don’t get. This time I got it, and the puff of dust off the rib cage just behind the front shoulder signaled a good hit. What surprised me was the way the bull bucked and started to trot off, similar to the way a whitetail reacts to an arrow shot. Reload immediately upon firing as taught by my African Guide Andres Fox, I was able to place a second and third shot on the bull now 350 yards and still going. The 4th shot missed and the 5th finally put the bull down for good. Was I glad to see him finally fall. I had only two rounds left. I surely didn’t expect to use more than two.. but 5 was a learning experience for me. Next time I’ll take no less than 10 rounds with me in the field, no matter what I’m hunting.

Joel and Jim soon pulled up alongside. George and Joel discussed the goal of shooting the bigger bull which was milling around my downed buff. Joel was up to the challenge and eased up to a bit of downed timber to use as a shooting rest. Using a Pre 64 Win 70 also in 375 H&H, and a 3-9 power scope, Joel began dropping rounds in on the bull. After a few high shots and emptying his gun, then using up my remaining ammo we were left with a mortally wounded bull that wouldn’t go down. George came to the rescue and provided his 338 for the final volley. With that we now had two bulls with over 5000 pounds of buffalo down. Time to get the sharp tools out and get working.

A nice surprise!

Buffalo hunting does not require a license or tag. These animals do not fall under the jurisdiction of the Wyoming DNR, but the deer on the property do. Therefore, in discussions with George White (the highly competent IPY Ranch Manager and an experienced hunter himself), he notified me that the ranch held a healthy whitetail deer population. He commented further that this area of the state even though it was a “Lottery Draw Only Area” I had a good chance of getting a tag. Heeding George’s recommendation, I submitted my name and application. As luck with have it, a few months later I received a letter from the Wyoming DNR office with a tag and license enclosed.

When the tag arrived I contacted George to let him know that I would be adding a whitetail deer to my bag. On my last visit I saw a very unique whitetail/mule deer mix. He had a wide whitetail rack but all the marking associated with a mule deer. For months I thought how great it would be to have such a mount. Only what I didn’t know was that last year a California deer hunter had the same idea and took him in the late season.

The Deer Hunt

After finding out that my cross breed was no longer on the menu, I set my goal at seeing as many deer on the ranch has possible and taking the best of what I saw. After talking with a number of the ranch hands, who typically spend every day addressing all aspects of ranch maintenance, I was able to determine relatively speaking where some of the best known big bucks were located. Since I had the only deer tag in our group, we set out with two of the ranches hunting trucks to see what we could scare up. I would expect that we saw over 150 deer during our visit. In retrospect, three of the deer we saw would qualify to me as shooters. There was one that I only saw for about 20 seconds while our vehicle climbed a rather steep hill. He was behind us a bit but nearly 600 yards away. He looked like a 12 point, big in body and tall in tines. Unfortunately he never gave me enough time to see him clearly. Looks like I may need to look for him two years from now when I go back. Anyway as we were motoring along this dirt road, Joel in the second vehicle spotted the deer in the photos rack standing above the prairie grass. His toot on the horn and signal for us to stop and check him out resulted in halting our caravan and scanning the tall prairie grass. As if busted, the entire group of about 8 deer stood up and casually started to feed and walk around. Not one of these deer seemed threatened by our arrival. We were about 180 yards away, with a creek and low cow fence line between us. Even after we exited the vehicles and started glassing the area, they stayed and didn’t move off. I had taken my Remington 700 Sendero with its 28 inch stainless fluted barrel and pulled down the legs on the Harris Bi-Pod attached to the forward sling stud. Plopping it on the vehicles hood and focusing in the New Bushnell Elite 6500 4-30 power scope, I was able to carefully inspect the rack on this impressive deer. The group now forming behind me had determined that I wasn’t going to shoot this deer and were now discussing where to go next. It was quite the surprise when the rifle suddenly went off and the buck spun around, went 20 feet and fell over. The Hornady 178 grain A-Max hand load in 300 Remington Short Action Ultra Magnum had not only done its job, but there was no need for the follow up shot I was about ready to deliver. I continue to be impressed by this bullets accuracy and terminal performance.

The balance of the trip was more labor than hunting. You’ve probably heard that the phrase that the “REAL work starts after you pull the trigger”. Boy is that right!

Well all, that’s the exciting part of the trip.. The rest was a lot of packing, carrying and driving. 18 hours straight through from Sundance WY to Grayslake IL. I had a load of frozen meet and hides in a UHaul Trailer that needed to see their way into my freezer and that of my taxidermist. So no time to stop and snooze… If you’re still reading, thanks and you have my appreciation. More trips to come, next year the excitement of Africa returns with a night hunt for 2 wild and crazy Hyena.. stay tuned..