This year I hunted more than my fair share of dagga boys from Mozambique to Zimbabwe. The one thing you quickly come to appreciate, is that seldom are your buffalo hunts run of the mill or ordinary. Far from it in fact. Below are a few recollections from some notable hunts this year.
Speared buffalo
The above pictures are from a dagga boy I hunted with a client in September up in L7 of the Niassa Reserve. This area consistently produces old and good trophy quality bulls. This particular bull was in a group of 7 dagga boys and after we had hunted him we noticed a homemade rebar steel spear tip protruding from high up on its flank. It was buried about 8 inches in and was stuck fast. A hard yank eventually dislodged the spear and with it a smelly stream of pus and discoloured blood spewed forth. The smell was quite something! This injury must have been incredibly painful and it was a wonder this bull hadn't run any one over and gored them. I don't condone the poachers actions, but it must've taken a dude with a set of brass ones to stalk up to a buffalo and try and spear it.
buffalo with an injured eye
On the same hunt where we shot the speared buffalo mentioned above, we happened across one of our game scouts who flagged down the hunting truck in some state of excitement. We were on the edge of one of our communities, traversing a series of fields when he came running out of the bush, bleeding superficially from his knee. In quite the agitated state, he recounted how he had been out collecting firewood for his home which was nearby, when he surprised a dagga boy sleeping in a patch of bush. The bull leapt to its feet and with out warning charged the unfortunate scout who just managed to scrambled up a tree as the angry buffalo passed a hairs breadth underneath him. He scratched himself up but was otherwise unharmed. He claimed it was the third such encounter with this bull and in the same area too. Later on in the season, I managed to track this bull down, crawl up to him on hands and knees and get my last client of the season to execute a well placed shot and bring the bull down. On close inspection, we discovered the cause of his grumpy nature. His left eye had been damaged, and a white scar like tissue, called a 'corneal odema' had developed, preventing him from seeing out that eye. With its senses compromised it was aggressive and more inclined to chase potential threats. The scout could count himself lucky he escaped unscathed
buff charge
The drought in Zimbabwe this year has been a bad one. The worst in 40 years. The conditions have taken their toll on the animals and in the areas that I hunt, certain animals were showing the effect of starvation. We were trundling back to camp for lunch the one day and we came across a very sickly and thin dagga boy standing about a hundred meters from a small water hole. Often sick and injured animals will stay close to water and this was certainly the case with this dagga boy. It was a pitiful sight to see such a wonderful animal, normally so strong and with an indomitable attitude reduced to a shadow of its normal self. It was skin and bone, and close to a miserable death. We pushed on to camp and immediately contacted the conservancy manager who asked us to return to the waterhole and put the animal down. By the time we returned to the bull, he had moved about 50 yards from where we had first seen him 2 hours previously. He had his head low and wasn't moving; you got the impression that he was not far from the end. I organized my 2 clients into a 'gun line' and placed my apprentice hunter in the center. He was to shoot the bull to accrue experience for his log book (qualifying for a full Zimbabwean hunters license is a long and thorough process - a conversation for another time). The wind was blowing steadily into our faces and I marched the gang up to the unsuspecting bull. At about 10 meters the animal must have heard a twig snap or leaves rustle as he turned to face us. I was expecting the poor fellow to turn and look at us tiredly, computing what we were and what threat we posed. Instead the animal grunted and immediately charged us, nose up and intent on mischief. Due to its condition, its final rush was not as quick as they can be - it just didn't have the energy - but he was game to the end, and he had my respect. We ended it at 7 paces, exhilarated by the proximity of the event, but sad knowing the circumstances that necessitated us intervening.
As we speak the rains are falling and its comforting to know that starvation is behind the animal populations in this part of Zimbabwe.
a sleeping buffalo at 5 meters
July saw me on the conservancy in the South West Lowveld on a double buff hunt with old clients. Day two saw us connect with a lovely bull with enormous bosses. The safari was going swimmingly until a weather system blew in and we had unseasonal rain and bad weather that precluded us doing any meaningful hunting. As a result the days slipped by and it was towards the tail end of the safari before we managed to find the dagga boys moving again after the wet weather. On the second last day we cut tracks of a single dagga boy at a quiet waterhole and eagerly followed the spoor. Maybe too eagerly, because less than a kilometer later we all had our heads down intent on the track and did not see the sleeping bull behind a scrubby mopane bush, right under our noses. Thomas my number two tracker hissed a warning to my number one tracker, Charity, who was a mere three and half meters from the bull before he looked up. Some hurried back peddling by the group saw the bull lumber to its feet and glare balefully at us all. I remember distinctly thinking in the moment that we were far too close and that someone was going to get run over as this bull was literally 5 meters away from us. Luckily the client with me proved to be a cool customer and she hammered the bull free hand in the center of the chest with her .375. It was a close run thing and I felt uneasy after the fact knowing that the whole show could have gone sideways in a flash.
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