Forest Dwellers - Part II
By Cam Greig
The Bayaka of Congo still live as true hunters and gatherers. Each man has his own hunting net, woven lovingly for him by his mother from the vines of the forest. Typically these nets are about a metre high and up to 50 metres long. They are used in family hunts where the nets are quietly hung from the bushes making a large U and the women and children chase the game into the nets. The men hide behind the net and kill the animals as they are scared into them. A traditional gift for a young man to give his prospective father in law has always been a large antelope, either a yellowback duiker or even a sitatunga. The bongo are said to cause a barren womb and are not hunted by many of the forest dwellers.
The Bayaka use a very long thrusting spear with a detachable head. The head is attached to the shaft with a vine cord. This acts effectively as an anchor when the barbed head is thrust into the game. One old hunter with us claimed to have killed a number of buffalo in this manner. I was inclined to believe him, as he stalked to within ten yards of several dwarf buffalo while we were with him. Although I believe he is capable of killing them this way, he simultaneously refused to chase down the newborn buffalo calf we found. He left that to the crazy white man; “Mondele”. All I wanted was my picture with it, but it ended up getting away.
Another traditional hunt utilized by the Bayaka is an all man's hunt. Even the style of shelter used on the hunt is different, as no privacy is needed and male bonding takes place. The shelters are still from the Pyrethrum leaves, but are built in an open lean-to fashion. When this kind of hunting is executed the red river hog is the animal being pursued. Numerous herds of these bright red bulldozers roam the jungles and they are tracked down to where they are bedded. Then the Bayaka surround them as quickly as possible and charge in from all sides. The confused pigs can then be speared. This style of hunting is a very risky business, involving much running around at full tilt in thick undergrowth. From my personal observations fully 50% of the men in the village have lost the use of at least one eye due to this dangerous means of putting dinner on the table.
africa's professional journal for serious hunters since 1994
africa's professional journal for serious hunters since 1994
As our computer generated technology propels itself at breakneck speed into the gloom of the future it is somehow comforting to realize there are still a people who live the same as they have since their time began. The Bayaka seem to be content and supremely happy; something western civilization still does not seem to have mastered.
Bayaka orchestra
I know that in theory this kind of hunting will work because of an incident that happened to me and my brother; on that occasion we had heard the pigs ahead of us eagerly working the forest floor for fruit or some such delicacy. Using hand signals we split into two groups, as my brother and I both had guns. I let my brother take the direct route, as he had never shot one of these strikingly red pigs before. I took a tracker and made a large loop, hoping to catch the fleeing pigs as they departed the scene.
Bayaka drummer and the forest spirit
Grandmother and child
As we eased into position I spied a very large boar trying to sneak out the back door. This was just like I have seen large boars do in the ‘States; this guy was quietly leaving the confrontation with humans to the ladies and young men. Seeing a chance to put some delicious meat on the table I aimed just behind his ear and let fly. The problem was I was really using just a back up gun, a light rifle that we used to shoot birds. On receiving the shot the pig took serious exception to it and turned toward us and charged. Glancing behind me all I saw were the soles of some feet heading up a tree so small I knew it would soon be bent over double, but there was my guide, perched straight up a sapling not two inches in diameter. I knew any thoughts of a second passenger were fruitless. The tree started to sway precariously, but I had to pull my attention back to the boar. He was a bit wobbly, but kept coming at me. I was able to fire a coupe of time, but the shells must have been powerless to penetrate adequately. With my last shot I actually held out the gun to the pig's head and pulled the trigger. He decided he had enough and vacated the property.
Meanwhile I heard a shotgun blast and once my tracker had come back to earth we went to see what my brother had found. When I got back to the main porter group there was my brother laying on the ground laughing. Tears streamed down his face as he tried to recount the last half hour.
On hearing my initial shot the sounder of pigs had all rushed for safety in the most direct manner possible. Fortunately, or unfortunately, that was right through the clearing where Brian and his guide were located. As the pigs burst from the bush Brian held on the first one and pulled the trigger. Rather than discouraging the rest of the sounder it only served to put them in high gear. They rushed forward in a seething mass, only breaking ranks enough to go around Brian and his guide who was immediately behind him. There were probably 30-40 pigs in the group, some well above the 200 pound mark. Unlike my tracker who had time to find a tree, Brian's guide was caught in the open behind Brian. As waves of terror at being gored to death washed over him the terrified and confined Bayaka simply jumped up and down. Brian said the pigs totally surrounded them on all sides. He had a tremendous urge to turn the gun around and start using it as a club, as the pigs were all within reach. As the last of them disappeared the guide continued to run in place and Brian realized the hilarity of the whole situation. He started to laugh, and could not stop, literally for days. From that point on he called his guide “Dances with Pigs” and everyone in the crowd would burst out laughing once they understood the translation.
What is important here is that the method of surrounding the pigs really does work. With the Bayaka able to move so quietly through the forest they are much more capable of this than we are, and yet we actually were able to do it as well. I just hope they have more success at it than we did on that occasion.
Voyaging with the Bayaka is a truly remarkable adventure. They are capable of such union with the forest and seem to just melt along the trail, while we stumble and trip along behind them. As one example they typically walk bare foot. This makes them very quiet, but also poses many risks. On one occasion a porter had a thorn thrust all the way through his big toe; it was showing both on entry and exit. For two days he said nothing, as he did not want to miss out on his share of meat, even though he had to have been in tremendous pain. He was still carrying a 40 pound load. When he finally presented the injury it was infected and yet the thorn was still embedded and had to be pulled out with a trusty Leatherman set of pliers.
The Bayaka can carry a 40 pound load, walk at a pace of four miles an hour while observing the ground for traps and tracks. At the same time they swing a two foot long machete to clear the vines and are constantly on the lookout for honey. They do not seem to sweat and if they are in a good rhythm of walking/running, will pass by a nice cool stream where they could stop to drink
In the Bayaka lifestyle there are no trips to the grocery store. The only sweets they have in their lives are fruit and honey. Because of this they have become very adept at gathering honey. In the deep forest where Bayaka tradition still prevails a hunter will “mark” a hive as his own and this will be respected by the other hunters. Only in one case have I seen them actually perform a sort of husbandry of the honey hive. In this case they left some of the hive they raided to allow the bees to rebuild it. The hole cut to extract the honey was minimal to keep other honey lovers, like the chimps, away. In most cases they simply destroy the hive, and in many cases actually will spend days cutting down a tree that is 150 feet tall to collect the honey. When the hive is dry there is a great wailing and gnashing of teeth. When the hive is full they all sit and eat into a stupor, achieved by the sugar rush. I can vouch for the fact they will eat 10 pounds of honey in one sitting. They also eat all of the pupae as well, as this provides very good protein.
A Bayaka family.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cam Greig was born in Cameroon, and grew up hunting with the locals and learned to speak both French and Bulu. His high school and collage years were spent in the United States, but he has returned to Cameroon two to three times a year since 1989 to go hunting, both there and in the surrounding (french speaking) countries. He keeps a standing “safari” complement of equipment including dug out canoes in Cameroon, the C.A.R. and Congo. His emphasis is on the adventure of the trip and less so on the actual hunt, and he has hunted many areas that have been abandoned or neglected since the end of Colonial rule forty years ago.
A Bayaka kitchen
A rich Bayaka
Bayaka hunter with gorilla skull
Teasing the forest spirit
The following story is an example of how tough the Bayaka are: My guide on one trip had a significant limp. I asked him why and he told me he had been out hunting with his dog and his brother. Suddenly the dog, which had been foraging ahead, started yelping and ran back toward him at high speed, followed closely by an old silverback gorilla. On seeing my guide the gorilla redirected his vengeance towards him, mauling him and in the process severing his Achilles tendon with a bite from his gaping jaws. His brother, hearing his pleas for help, finally summoned the courage to come back into render help and thrust a spear into the gorilla. For his bravery he also was mauled before the gorilla decided he had enough sport and left. Both men bore the scars permanently and my guide limped for the rest of his life. This gorilla mauled individual was the happiest person I have ever had the pleasure to know or share a camp with. His smile was infectious, even though we could share very few words; I cherished our time together as some of the most precious of all my adventure safaris.
As our computer generated technology propels itself at breakneck speed into the gloom of the future it is somehow comforting to realize there are still a people who live the same as they have for generations, and they seem to have mastered the concept of few material possessions. I can also state that they seem to be content and supremely happy; something western civilization does not seem to have conquered.
Once, not long ago, I was young, and keen, and full of the vinegar and juice of life. I was strong and the whole world was open before me. Now, suddenly, I am “middle aged”. I am the age of people who, not long ago, I branded contemptuously as “old farts”.
On July 22, 2008 my wife Karol and I flew from Las Vegas, Nevada, to Bulawayo, Zimbabwe for a second leopard hunting safari with my good friend, PH John Hunt of Georgia Safaris.
I had previously hunted leopard and plains game with John in October of 2007, successfully taking a young male leopard, a 59” kudu, a 5 ½” klipspringer, a huge Sharpe's grysbok, a respectable giraffe, a genet cat, and numerous baboon and bait impala.
John and I agreed that the October 2007 hunt had not produced the monster leopard I was looking for. John had told me about a number of “super cats” in the Gwanda and West Nicholson areas, including Jonsyl Farm, where we had hunted. John invited me back and I accepted.
After spending the night at John's Burnside home, John and I left early the next day for Jonsyl Farm. The drive south through Zimbabwe's lowveld was quite relaxing. We quickly passed through the towns of Gwanda, Colleen Bawn and West Nicholson, and were soon at the turn-off to our camp, which was located 10 miles west in the low granite hills.
After arriving at camp and settling in, we drove the short distance to the farm's reservoir and checked the zero on my rifle, a customized Winchester Model 70, .375 H&H, fitted with a Leupold 3.5 x 10 50mm illuminated scope.
By noon of the following day I had taken the four needed bait impala. We then drove to four separate locations on the 40,000 acre Jonsyl Farm, checking for fresh leopard spoor in areas where John and the trackers had recently seen cat sign, and hung the baits.
Up at the crack of dawn, and after a short breakfast, we left in the Land Rover to check the baits. At the last bait, we discovered fresh female leopard tracks close by. We also discovered that the bait had been hit the night before by a large hyena. This particular hyena appeared to be well-educated. It had taken a running start from a nearby embankment and jumped just high enough to grab one hind leg of the bait and pull it down to feed on. This surprised all of us, but since hyena was also on my want list, we decided to sit in the blind that evening for the thief.
The trackers and skinners set to clearing a shooting lane from the bait tree all the way back to the base of a small kopje 50 yards away. When they were finished, we checked the remaining baits and returned to camp for lunch.
Leaving camp late that afternoon we drove the short distance back to the hyena bait site and set up the portable blind. John and I then climbed in and sat down to wait.
At 5:20pm and with still 40 minutes of daylight remaining, we suddenly heard the unexpected.
Coming from behind and to the right side of the blind were the distinct sounds of a leopard sawing, coughing and grunting. “Vaughn, we have a leopard close by. It may be coming into the bait.” We watched and waited. The leopard never materialized. At 9:00pm that evening I shot the marauding hyena.
While loading up the hyena and preparing to return to camp, John decided that it would be easier for us to leave the portable blind behind and pick it up first thing the next morning during our early morning bait checking rounds.
At daybreak, we made our way back across the farm to first pick up the blind. As we neared the blind site, John suddenly stopped the truck. Spotting the spoor of a leopard on the road, we all jumped out to take a look. Inspecting the tracks, Ben, our head tracker, circled them with his finger.. “This leopard is huge,” John said.
From the direction of his tracks, the leopard had come from a very large granite kopje not far away, had crossed the lowveld and finally walked onto the road. The tracks also showed that the leopard had passed no more than 30 yards from our blind before walking into the bush behind the hyena bait and finally heading off in the direction of a range of low granite kopjes on the opposite side of the farm. Retrieving the blind, the trackers re-set the impala bait. We then started back towards the remaining baits.
A number of factors have to be considered when selecting any firearm that may be put to the test in defending one’s life. Firstly, are they “enough gun”? Dirty Harry not withstanding, the most powerful handgun in the world will still seem almost insignificant next to the ballistics of even a mediocre rifle calibre, especially if you are talking about one designed for use on dangerous game. What exactly can you realistically expect from that .480 Ruger revolver that your .416 Remington Magnum rifle failed to deliver? Secondly, are they reliable under rigorous field conditions? I used to love my FN-FAL rifle, but because of its system of gas operation, I used to strip it every evening in camp and run a pull-through through the gas tube and clean the piston whenever there was a chance of a punch-up during the night. The guys with the G3's didn’t have to do that. No one with any field experience at all would consider a Wildey semi-auto pistol as a wise bush choice, well-made though they may be. And, a big part of reliability is robustness - will your chosen handgun stand up to prolonged and hard use? And, the last point I want to consider here - how easy is it going to be for you to put in the range time with whatever handgun you choose to become and remain proficient? One of my first centre-fire handguns was an old Ruger flat-top .41 magnum. I wasn’t looking for a .41 at the time, but the price was so low I had to buy it - complete with a box containing 44 rounds of ammo. The previous owner had bought it, fired six rounds through it, and decided it was the Antichrist. He would never have been able to hit anything with it except by accident, and as has been pointed out by many more knowledgeable than I, in a tight corner shot placement is everything.
Revolver or self-loader? One of the most age-old questions among gun writers. I think in terms of a backup gun in the bush, the revolvers definitely have the edge. They are going to be more reliable under rugged field conditions, and a scenario where a backup handgun is brought into play shouldn’t devolve into a firefight, so ammo capacity is less of a major concern. A couple of canoe guides I know have opted for the Glock 10mm’s as backup firearms, as they feel the ballistics are adequate for their needs, and the simplistic design will afford reliability. In full power factory loadings they would give a croc pause for thought with the correct shot placement, and I can personally attest to the reliability of the Glock. And of course with 15-round detachable box magazines they combine good firepower with easy reloading. Maybe not a bad choice. Of course, when Don Heath won the title of All-Africa revolver division champion (which he still holds) at the Practical Pistol world championships in Pietersberg, South Africa in 2002, we was firing .40 S&W’s out of a Smith and Wesson 10mm revolver, which would probably be a better choice...
When selecting any firearm for any purpose, you will want to acquire something that is well-made and that has reliable factory support for spare parts and repairs. That prototype .479 Bloggs & Doe scandium 13-shot revolver that’s the only one of its kind on the face of the earth and came with the only box of ammo ever made might be a status symbol, but it belongs in the gun safe back home. My choices of calibres to consider below, therefore, is largely based on availability of firearms and ammunition. Not all shooters (sadly) are reloaders, and while I might think nothing of ordering 100 oddball cases from Bertram Brass, and then sourcing reloading dies and bullet moulds for my cannon of choice, this option is not open to everyone. Remember about range time and shot placement and proficiency.
africa's professional journal for serious hunters since 1994
By I J Larivers
Backup Handguns for Dangerous Game...
and a few Thoughts on Ballistics
The Leopard - Killing Leopard of Jonsyl Farm
By R. Vaughn Gourley
Suddenly Ben jumped back and froze, startling everyone. “Ingwe!” he whispered. He was pointing directly at a clump of brush and small trees uphill and directly at the base of the dark granite cliff. Quickly regrouping, we all stared intently at the spot. It was then that I made out the familiar shape and colours of a leopard lying in the bush.
Handgun hunting itself is an extremely fast-growing sport, albeit with very specialised firearms such as the Thompson-Center range of very fine single shot pistols. But what I want to look at here are the merits of various handgun calibres as backup guns on dangerous game - or possibly as the primary defensive firearm for canoe guides, when rifles are just too unwieldy and would probably be cased anyway.
The formidable .480 Ruger seen from the business end
Left to right - 10mm auto, .357 Magnum, .44 Rem Magnum, .480 Ruger, .50 AE, .454 Casull, and the .375 H&H Magnum for comparison
The .357 Magnum.
Introduced in 1935, this venerable workhorse is probably still the most popular magnum cartridge in the world. It is “enough gun” for most situations, and is relatively easy to learn to shoot well even for non-gun nuts. It is produced in single and double action revolvers, and some self-loading pistols, but because of its rimmed case it is less than totally reliable in the latter. Having evolved from the .38 Special, the .357 produces roughly three times the energy of its predecessor, but its penetration might be borderline for defensive work on something with a lot of teeth and claws - shot placement is crucial.
The .41 Remington Magnum.
This calibre saw the light of day in 1964, and was probably pioneered more by Elmer Keith than anyone else. There wasn’t much of a niche in those days for anything bigger than the .357 in law enforcement circles, but the .41 found its calling among the hunting fraternity. More efficacious on bigger game than the .357, it was slightly more user-friendly to master than the .44 Magnum. In intervening years it has been eclipsed by a number of new calibres, but it still retains a dedicated following of afficionados.
The .44 Remington Magnum.
Even without Dirty Harry, this remains the classic definitive magnum cartridge. Introduced in 1955 by Smith and Wesson so Elmer Keith wouldn’t have to keep blowing up perfectly good .45 revolvers, the venerable .44 Magnum has found a dedicated following as a universal handgun hunting cartridge. It does take a competent pistolero to master the .44 in full magnum loads however, and a lot of continued practice. This is probably the most oft-carried backup handgun calibre in Africa.
The 10mm Auto.
The 10mm was introduced in 1983 for the Bren Ten self-loading pistol which was the brainchild of the legendary Jeff Cooper. Cooper was on a quest for the better mousetrap, looking for a handgun that was just a little bigger and better than the iconic Colt 1911-style .45 Automatic. His thinking, as always, was pretty much spot-on, but the Bren Ten came into existence at a time when other innovations such as high-capacity pistol frames were being introduced. The 10mm was a brilliant concept, but almost immediately became overtaken by events. With ballistics far superior to the .357 Magnum, it was ideal for law enforcement and hunting, provided it was in the hands of someone who could master it. The FBI adopted it, but found that it was too hot for its agents to handle. They commissioned the “FBI load” which was a downloaded version, and Smith & Wesson took this to its logical conclusion with the new .40 S&W round that is now one of the most popular handgun calibres of all time among competitive shooters and law enforcement agencies. The 10mm, of course, isn’t too hot for anyone to handle - it just requires proper instruction and a little dedication to master.
The .454 Casull.
No newcomer, the .454 has been around for over half a century, and was introduced mainly as a hunting cartridge. Most revolvers in this calibre are 5-shot single actions, which boast the frame strength to handle this powerful cartridge. It remains popular as both a primary handgun hunting calibre for dangerous game and a backup cartridge. A number of canoe guides in Zimbabwe carry the Taurus double action version, but most probably do not practice with them enough.
The .480 Ruger.
Ruger firearms are known as some of the sturdiest and well-made on the market. The .480 Ruger was designed to fit in the .44 Magnum - .454 Casull niche, and fills that role admirably. As a handgun, being chambered in Ruger’s massive Super Redhawk double action revolver, it is more likely to be used as a primary handgun hunting calibre than lugged around the bush as a backup, but the ballistics are impressive.
The .475 Linebaugh.
This cartridge, announced in 1988, is only available in single-action revolvers, and is one of the world’s most powerful revolver calibres. Either as a primary hunting calibre or a backup, it is going to be almost as good as it gets, provided you contribute the time and dedication to make it anything more than an ornament.
The .500 Linebaugh.
This was John Linebaugh’s first ultra-magnum revolver offering, but when the ready supply of .348 Winchester cases on which it was based began to dry up, he brought out the .475 Linebaugh, crafted instead around cut-down .45-70 government cases. .348 brass has since re-emerged, and both Linebaugh calibres are still in existence, occupying more or less the same niche
The .500 Smith & Wesson.
Around for less than a decade, this calibre from Smith and Wesson is the most powerful factory production cartridge in the world. Judging by the number of ammo manufacturers who cater for it, it is garnering a substantial following.
The .50 Action Express.
This was one of the first popular .50 calibre rounds of the latter part of the 20th Century, and while it is capable of producing some truly impressive ballistics, its Achilles heel was being initially produced for the Israeli Military Industries Desert Eagle gas operated self-loading pistol. A gas-operated self-loader anywhere but on a shooting range is a complicated solution to a nonexistent problem, and the reliability question gives pause for thought. Plus, the Desert Eagle in .50AE was too big to be practical and only held a 6-round magazine.
How do they stack up against one another? Geez, I’m already starting to yawn! There seem to be a gazillion different ways of comparing various calibres to one another - on paper. Sadly, we all have this fascination for statistics, but often that’s all they are - numbers on a piece of paper. What is it that makes a particular calibre more lethal than another? (Well, we all know this - it’s where the round is placed, and a bigger, badder round may not be any more effective than a lesser one (on paper) which is delivered by a competent marksman, but let’s play the game of stopping or killing power for a little while.) I’m not sure I believe in stopping power very much, because I’ve come across far too many instances of projectiles that should have stopped something and didn’t. Hit a vital organ and the requisite results will be produced, in what time depending on how vital the organ was, with the central nervous system in the form of the brain or the spine being first prize.
Clockwise from top left - Israeli Desert Eagle in .50 Action Express; Ruger .480; Smith & Wesson 10mm; Colt Python .357 Magnum; Taurus Raging Bull .454 Casull; Desert Eagle .44 Magnum
Basically, some shooters believe that the velocity of a particular round is the be-all and end-all, and others support the weight of the bullet as being the major determining factor. Now, I have never believed in lightweight ultra-fast bullets, or heavy, ponderous and slow-moving projectiles. Common sense dictates that a bullet of moderate weight at a moderate velocity should produce more consistent results than any of these “magic bullets” at either end of the spectrum. But most aficionados will be either drawn to the belief that a bullet’s effectiveness depends on its momentum (they prefer heavier, slower bullets) or on its energy (lighter, faster projectiles).
From Pondoro Taylor’s Knock-Out values to Hatcher’s relative stopping power index to IPSC (International Practical Shooting Confederation) power factors, there are a number of ways to determine the relative effectiveness of a round - on paper. Perhaps Taylor’s thinking, which multiples the bullet weight by its velocity by its diameter is the most accurate for determining what a particular bullet will do - his Knock-Out Values reflect a faith in momentum over energy, and certainly favour a moderately heavy solid bullet, much the same as you would be expected to fire from a backup handgun.
If we take a look at the calibres above, based solely on bullet weight and velocity, and we use the calculation for kinetic energy, where V represents the bullet’s velocity in feet per second, W is its weight in grains, and E is its resultant energy in foot pounds:
V2 x W
______ = E
450,240
then for each these calibres it would seem that the lighter, faster bullets will out-perform heavier, slower projectiles. To use the .357 Magnum as an example, a 158gr bullet travelling at 1,200fps would deliver 505 foot pounds of energy, whereas a 110gr bullet travelling at 1,500fps would generate 550 foot pounds.
But if we take the same bullets and apply Taylor’s Knock-Out Values, we see that the opposite appears true. On paper. The 158gr bullet at 1,200fps will achieve a Taylor Knock-Out Value of 9.7 as opposed to the 110gr bullet at 1,500 which only rates at 8.4. In actual fact, working out comparisons between different calibres are simply physics equations of weights and velocities. They may be interesting, but a wounded leopard or buffalo may not share your fascination with mathematics. They do not take into account the myriad different bullet types and construction, and that is as important as anything in assessing the effectiveness of a particular round.
I once had to shoot a bushbuck ram who had a gangrenous leg wound from a snare. Ludicrous as it sounds, a wounded bushbuck is not something to be taken lightly. My main focus in those days was law enforcement, and all I had with me was my venerable Colt .45 Combat Commander, so I had to get as close as I could. I managed to corner him along a fence line, and dispatched him easily with one round of 230gr lead cast round nose ammo. I was loading those up for practice at around 850fps. That round had an energy value of 369 foot pounds, and a Taylor KO Value of 12.6. In the energy stakes a faster, lighter bullet, say a 185gr projectile at 1,000fps would have yielded more energy - 411 foot pounds, but would have given a lower Taylor KO Value of 11.9.
So does something sound a little odd here? What if, in either the .357 Magnum or .45ACP scenarios above, the lighter bullet had been a frangible hollow point and the heavier bullet had been a jacketed solid? Which would have performed better on the bushbuck - or something with a much thicker hide and a lot more bone and tissue to get through before a vital area was hit? The table below would summarize my recommendations for such moderation, and still result in rounds that were manageable on the range - unfortunately you more or less have to be a reloader to put some of them together.
I have opted for jacketed flat point bullets as the ideal. Projectiles like Cor-Bon’s Penetrator range would be very good, and the experienced reloader could also experiment with gas-checked hard lead bullets. My recommendation? Moderation in both weight and velocity, and the choice of a suitable bullet that will penetrate well.
Before we had driven another 200 yards, the trackers suddenly began tapping on the roof of the truck cab, signalling John to stop. The trackers were urgently speaking to John in Sindebele. Bailing out of the Land Rover, John and the trackers quickly walked ahead of the truck. There, at the side of the road, they began to intently examine something. John motioned me to exit the truck and join them.
“Prosper has spotted the big leopard's tracks again right here at the side of the road. These tracks are very fresh. He must have circled back this way during the night. It also looks like he has killed something early this morning and very close by, because there is also a drag mark here on the road. Both the tracks and the drag are headed towards that kopje over there,” he said, pointing west in the direction of a very large granite hillock over 600 yards away.
“Vaughn, you are the luckiest man in the world today,” John said. “Go and get your rifle out of the Land Rover. We are going to track this leopard and find out where he has stashed this fresh kill. We think he's probably killed an impala. There's a chance that you might get a shot at this cat in broad daylight. Let's get moving.”
I quickly returned to the truck and slid the .375 H&H out of its soft case. With the four trackers out front, I fell in behind John as we started tracking the leopard across the veld, eventually reaching the base of the large kopje. There the trackers spread out and thoroughly searched the area for the kill. Unable to find anything, they located the leopard's spoor and the drag again. We zigzagged our way up the steep hillside, knowing that things could suddenly and quickly get a lot more interesting at any moment. Halfway up, the leopard's tracks passed through a rock-strewn area interspersed with a few small trees and some thick patches of bush. There we discovered the remains of a male impala.
“This is an old kill of his,” John said. “It's not the one that we are after.”
The author, John and the two leopard back at camp
A very happy client. The author with his trophy leopard
africa's professional journal for serious hunters since 1994
Continuing on, we finally reached the top. There we followed the leopard's tracks as they continued along a narrow ridge line and then down into a brushy, deep saddle. Starting uphill again, the tracks lead in the direction of huge granite outcropping which was covered with bush and small trees along its base. The area ahead was still under the early morning spell of darkness cast by the deep shadows from the massive outcropping.
Pushing on we slowly followed the spoor, making our way cautiously through the sometimes nearly impenetrable jesse in the direction of the outcrop's base. As before, the four trackers stayed in front, while I remained slightly behind John and to his right.
Suddenly Ben jumped back and froze, startling everyone. “Ingwe!” he whispered. He was pointing directly at a clump of brush and small trees uphill and directly at the base of the dark granite cliff. Quickly regrouping, we all stared intently at the spot. It was then that I made out the familiar shape and colours of a leopard lying in the bush.
Urgently whispering to the trackers, John instructed them to slowly and carefully pick up some stones. Gently grabbing my arm to get my attention, John whispered, “At my signal, the trackers are going to throw rocks into the brush to try to get the leopard to come out and jump up on one of the nearby granite boulders. When it does, be ready to shoot if I tell you to.”
At John's signal, the trackers lobbed the rocks up into the brush. We all waited for the reaction. Nothing happened.
Believing that the leopard was still closely watching us, but just holding tight while waiting for the right opportunity to make a dash, we continued forward one deliberate step at a time, closing the distance. Our eyes and ears strained with each passing moment as we tried to either catch sight of a sudden movement, or hear the slightest sound that would instantly alert us to the cat's intentions.
Next came an exclamation from Ben. Turning to me, John quietly said: “Ben is saying that the leopard is dead!”
There, lying among the brush and small trees at the base of the cliff was the partially eaten carcass of a young female leopard, tucked tightly up against the base of the outcropping as if placed there by human hands. A large portion of her underside and chest had been devoured. Looking up at us, John remarked: “This is simply unbelievable. The big male leopard has for some unknown reason killed this female, probably no more than two hours ago, and has then dragged her all the way up here to feed on her. This kopje must be his lair.”
A serious discussion then ensued between John and the trackers as they considered the next plan of action regarding our unusual discovery.
“The trackers all believe that the big tom is close by and is watching us,” John said. “Ben is also saying, do not move the bait,” John remarked, referring to the female's carcass. John continued: “The trackers are further warning me not to put up fresh impala bait. Ben is convinced that the big cat is not through with her and will be back again tonight to feed. They are certain that if we don't leave her remains here, that the big male will not come back.”
The trackers then cleared a portion of the brush in the immediate area around the carcass. Securing the female's remains to a few small trees close by with poachers’ wire picked up earlier that morning. They then set to cutting a shooting lane back down and along the narrow ridge line to a place for the blind 80 yards away. After finishing, the trackers returned to the truck to retrieve the blind, the chairs and the gun rest. Setting up the blind, they covered it with the surrounding grass and brush, making sure that we had an unobstructed view. We repaired back to camp.
Slipping into the blind late that afternoon, I set the rifle in the rest, settling the cross hairs of the scope on the female's carcass. We then made ourselves comfortable as the trackers handed us our coats, water bottles and fanny packs and got ready to cover the door of the blind with branches and grass.
“U Vaughn Kakhuthi,” John said, smiling at the trackers.
“What did you tell them?” I asked.
“I told them Vaughn doesn't miss,” John grinned.
We listened to the sound of the Land Rover's engine fading into the distance as the trackers drove off to make camp for the evening to await the hopeful sound of a gunshot.
Shortly we began to approach the hour. The late afternoon shadows suddenly gave way to the pitch black African night. Time began to then tick on ever so slowly in the dark of the blind, until 8:45pm when John immediately became aware of crunching sounds coming from the carcass.
“He's come to feed on her,” John whispered. Shortly after the crunching sounds started, they suddenly stopped. He was gone.
“Something's not feeling right to him,” John whispered. “He's a cunning old cat, and he didn't get that way by being stupid”.
But within a few minutes the big cat was back again feeding. “I think he's very nervous about the female being tied down.” Finally at around 9:15pm John grabbed my right shoulder, signalling that the leopard was staying put and feeding comfortably.
Within a few seconds he gently pushed me forward in the darkness, into the rifle. I listened as John quietly readied his large Sure Fire lamp. Staring intently ahead into the blackness of the scope, I waited for John's last signal. John gave me three deliberate taps on the right shoulder, the final sign that the big flashlight would be coming on at any time now.
Suddenly with an exploding flash of bright light, the Sure Fire was on, instantly illuminating the female's carcass 80 yards away, and showing the distinct outline of an enormous male leopard standing directly over her remains. The leopard quickly raised his head, looking directly into the brilliant light emanating from the blind. The intense beam of the Sure Fire made his eyes glow a deep crimson red. I quickly adjusted the cross hairs of the scope on a specific rosette behind the leopard's left shoulder, as John urgently whispered, “Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!”
The .375 H&H roared, catching me by surprise and slamming me back into the chair. The muzzle flash, combined with the brilliant light of the flashlight, instantly illuminated a huge cloud of dust created by the muzzle blast directly in front of the blind making it impossible to see ahead.
At the shot, I was sure that I had heard the distinct “whack” of the bullet, followed by what sounded like rocks rolling down the kopje.
“Did the shot feel right?” John asked.
“It felt good to me. I'm sure that it was a solid hit.”
“Good. Did you hear the grunt come from the cat right after the shot?” he queried.
“No, I didn't,” I replied. I was sure that the leopard had dropped stone dead, and had rolled part way down the kopje.
Within 20 minutes the four trackers were back at the blind.
“Vaughn felt good about the shot, however, I heard a low grunt come from the cat right after the shot. We could have a big problem on our hands.”
“Vaughn, you remain here at the blind with Prosper and Freedom. I am going to take Ben and Ndlovu and look for the leopard. We may run into trouble with this leopard, so if you hear any screams, wait until the attack is completely over and then fire a shot into the air. That will scare the leopard off. It then should be safe for you and the others to come looking for us.”
I stood outside the blind with Prosper and Freedom, while the trio began to scour the area looking for the cat. Eventually, the three of them climbed to the very top of the large granite cliff where John shined his flashlight down into the thick brush and shadows looking for any signs of the leopard. They continued throwing rocks into likely areas, but there was no response. After an hour, the three of them finally returned to the blind, empty handed. I was just sick. I was sure that the shot had been fatal. But it was too dangerous to continue the search until morning light.
My mind began to race. I thought of hyenas and other creatures of the African night that would certainly be prowling the area looking for a meal. A dead leopard would certainly fit the bill, and not much would be left by morning if something found him.
During the two-mile drive back to camp, we were all uncharacteristically quiet. I sat in the cab of the truck with John, replaying the shot over and over again in my mind until it seemed like I had done it a thousand times.
Back at camp, I undressed and climbed into bed next to my wife, bone tired from the day's events. For the next few hours I tried to get some sleep, but my mind wouldn't let go of the excitement, nor of the growing fear and doubt.
The leopard kopje
The track of the big leopard. Spotting the spoor of a leopard on the road, we all jumped out to take a look. Inspecting the tracks, Ben, our head tracker, circled them with his finger.. “This leopard is huge,” John said
The female's remains still at the outcropping the next morning after finding the big male dead
Wayne Grant, author of "Into The Thorns" and PH John Hunt's chance meeting in Victoria Falls at the old Victoria Falls Hotel after the leopard hunt
Joy. Finding the big leopard the next morning
After what seemed like an eternity, I finally dozed off, but was startled awake by John's voice. “Vaughn, please hurry and get dressed. We must be up on top of the kopje by daybreak”.
Gathering our gear and rifles we quickly walked to the Land Rover in the darkness where the trackers and skinners were already assembled and waiting. The mood among everyone was upbeat, but tempered with soberness, due to the potentially dangerous task that lay ahead.
Driving back to the area we parked near a game trail leading to the base of the kopje and made our way quickly back up the kopje to the blind. Once there John organized the seven trackers and skinners for the search. John asked me to again stay at the blind and wait.
For the next 40 minutes I stood all alone at the blind while John and the men methodically searched for the leopard; everyone anticipating an imminent charge. John carried his Winchester Model 70, .375 H&H, while the trackers and skinners were armed with nothing more than a couple of traditional hand axes, their belt knives and the few rocks and stones that they had managed to pick up along the way.
Suddenly Ndlovu jumped back and shouted: “Hokoyo Ingwe iyaphila!” He had stumbled right on top of the leopard lying crouched next to a granite boulder - stone dead. Reaching Ndlovu, John shouted back up to the blind. “Vaughn, we've found him!” Upon reaching the leopard, I could see that he was even bigger than I had imagined.
After receiving congratulatory handshakes and high fives from everyone, I gently ran my hands over the enormous cat's beautiful rosettes, marvelling at just how soft his hide really was. He had been a cunning and crafty old tom, and a worthy adversary. Further examination revealed that the 300 grain Nosler Partition bullet had entered behind his left shoulder, exiting near his right mid-section. The bullet destroyed both lungs.
After taking some photos, we prepared to tie him to a freshly cut carry pole with bark rope fashioned by the trackers.
As they finished tying him to the pole, Prosper and Ben both turned to John and me and spoke in Sindebele. “Vaughn, they are saying that he is both big and old!” John grinned. “What a magnificent cat! Congratulations and well done! And, what a most unusual story!”
Back in camp, John and the trackers then measured the leopard. The big cat measured an honest eight feet in length, and had a 23 inch neck. The base of his tail measured nearly 12 inches in circumference. John then asked Jonsyl Farm owner, Ivan DuPlessis, who had also joined us in the celebration, to retrieve his farm scales so we could weigh him. The leopard weighed 170 pounds. His boiled skull later measured in over 17 inches.
We also retrieved the remains of the female before leaving the kopje. Prior to the shot, the huge male leopard had managed to eat another portion of her carcass before finally settling down and giving me my one lucky opportunity. John and the trackers estimated the young female leopard to be a year-and-a-half old.
To this day, no one has ventured a solid explanation as to why the enormous male leopard chose to kill the female and eat her. Ivan DuPlessis was convinced, however, that this was a rogue leopard that had killed other leopard on his farm before.
As far as we know, this story is unique in the annals of African leopard hunting. But whether or not it is doesn't really matter to me. Because one thing is certain; this leopard hunt turned out to be the greatest and most incredible hunt of my lifetime.
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