GAHUNTERS's Safari with Jumbo Moore In The Save Conservancy, September 2006

I've been back from this hunt for three years, but I never posted any pictures on AR, because I was too dumb (or too lazy to learn how to do it), until now. Now that I have figured out how it's done, a monster has been created, and I will post pictures of everything in sight. Get ready.

This hunt took place on the ARDA government concession in the Save Conservancy in the Southeast Lowveldt in May of '04. The hunt was with Jumbo Moore Safaris, however I only saw Jumbo a couple of days out of the 15 I was there. My PH was a freelancer hired for this hunt named Henry Princloo.

Henry was a fairly new in the hunting business, having spent most of his adult life as an auto mechanic. Things being what they currently are in Zimbabwe, however, he was forced to find alternative employment, and having been a sport hunter and PAC elephant hunter for many years, becoming a professional hunter was a natural step. He became fully licensed at the ripe old age of 42.

I found Henry to be quite a competent PH. He knew the game very well, and was always cognizent of safety concerns. I also found him respectful of my abilities and was never made to feel like a liability when things got a little "sticky" (like when we tracked a woumded buffalo for three days). His only drawback is he is painfully shy and quiet, which sometimes made for an awkward campfire.

Anyway, I was on a 15-day buffalo/leopard hunt. Accomodations were typical safari tent camp style:

 

My Tent

Inside tent

Dining area

The Kitchen

When on safari, it never ceases to amaze me how operators can produce such good food under such primitive conditions. The food in Jumbo's camp could not have been better:
 

My security system

One drawback to the accomodations was that my tent could not be closed up (broken zippers) at night. Now, we had this old lioness that was hanging around camp, not to mention the other critters that passed through every evening, and I found the open invitation for an American-style meal (me) to be a little disconcerting. So I came up with my own security system, by piling up all my luggage and every chair I could find in camp across the open end of the tent. I didn't really think this would stop anything from getting in, but my hope was that any would-be dining patrons seeking a free meal (again, me) would make enough noise negotiating the obstacle course that I could get the light on in time to sling some lead their way (I kept a loaded .404 Jeffery and shotgun beside my bunk). You should have heard the house boy when he came to wake me that first morning and found the homemade barricade. He could hardly get the words "time to get up" out he was laughing so hard.
 

In all, I shot nine impala for bait, and four more for game scout rations. This does not count the three "trophy" impala I shot. I was an impala killing machine. However, after losing several feeding leopards off the baits for unknown reasons, it was decided that I needed to shoot a zebra, as zebra doesn't rot as fast. BTW there is no "bait" price for zebra, only full retail.
 

My $700 leopard bait

24 Inch impala

Before it was all over, I shot a second zebra (ca-ching!), as the first one started to turn on us. Anybody who ever says leopard hunting is a bargin is full of caa-caa.

While the baits were doing their thing, we went after buffalo. On the first day of buff hunting, we tracked a heard of about 80 all day, spooking them several times, before getting up on them for a shot just before dark. Henry picked out a good bull and told me to take him. He was standing in very deep grass, broadside at 20 yards, and I aimed slightly behind his shoulder, center of mass. BIG MISTAKE!

At the shot, he took off with the heard. In just a few minutes, we heard the "death bellow" and high fives were exchanged among the trackers and myself. Only Henry remained skeptical, as several minutes later, there was another gurgleing bellow, only this time several hundred yards away. Then a third, even further away. When we went to check blood, there was a piece of lung laying on the ground where he was standing when I shot. We didn't have long before dark and we tracked blood spoor a couple of hundred yards before calling it a day.

After an uneasy night, we picked up the spoor the following morning. During the night, I thought about my shot and came to the realization that when I shot at the center of mass, I was really only shooting at the center of mass that I could SEE. Most of the buffalo was hidden by the long grass, so my shot was actually very high, just cutting across the top of the lungs.

To make a long (and sad) story short, we tracked blood for three days before losing the spoor down in the Mkwazine River bottom. In the mean time, Jumbo Moore and his camp manager Bill had joined us to help protect the trackers. This was definitely the low point of my safari.
 

Guarding the trackers at work on blood

The long march back out after loosing the spoor

Well, losing the buffalo was pretty devestating, but I know the rules well. That WAS my buffalo and would be payed for, and no other one shot. Jumbo did offer to try and buy one off quota from one of the other Save operations, but said the price would be around five grand. I figured I had my chance, and besides, it just gives me some unfinished business to take care of in Africa on my return trip. So I said no thanks.

Done with buffalo, we turned our attention to leopard and whatever plains game suited my fancy. On that subject, we happened to drive up on a pair of huge kudu one day. I don't really need or want to shoot another kudu, as I have two very nice ones in my trophy room. But one of these was beyond big -- it was gigantic! Henry said it was 56 inches. Tracker said "no, it's 60." Henry said shoot. However at that moment I happened to be sitting in the front seat of the safari car and had a fit of conscience. You see, I had my crosshairs right on its shoulder, but could not pull the trigger simply because I felt an animal like that did not deserve to be shot from a vehicle. (results would have probably been different if I had really wanted a kudu)

Much to the disbelief of the trackers and PH, I let him walk off into the long grass. Then I said, "let's go get him," and off we go on foot. I'll bet we kept that kudu's horns in sight for half a mile, but, unfortunately, big ole spiral horns were all that were visible, as this grass was really, really long. Oh well, that's why it's called hunting instead of killing. (Later, when Henry told Jumbo the story and told him I wouldn't shoot from the car, Jumbo called me, half jokingly, a "cheap bastard.")

One of the animals I wanted to shoot really bad (besides buffalo and leopard) was bushbuck. We had an opportunity on the first day as we drove up on two males, one average, and one exceptional, and were able to put a stalk on them. Suddenly one of them stepped into the open and presented a shot, however I was not sure which one it was and didn't shoot. As it turned out, it was the bigger of the two, but it made it to the grass, and safety, before I could take him. This was the last bushbuck we saw -- until the very last hunting day, that is.

On that day we were hunting bushbuck, and only bushbuck. We were driving along the Mkwazine right at first light when the trackers tapped Henry on the head. They said they spotted two bushbuck in the grass well to our right. We drove on, out of sight and stopped. I grabbed my rifle and headed back down the track, and, sure'nuff, there they were, two of them standing in a clearing about a hundred yards to my right. Only one presented a shot, however, and I could not tell how big it was. Never mind, it was a male and I had learned my lesson on hesitation. The trackers were well behind with the shooting sticks so I did the only thing I could do. I took aim off-hand and let her fly. After the recoil, I looked and saw a bushbuck running through the grass. I turned to Henry and said "damn, I missed." Before Henry could say anything, however, one of the trackers said something to Henry in Shona. Henry smiled and said "He says the bushbuck dropped in his tracks."

Well, I had my bushbuck, and it turned out to be a darn nice one. We simpy thew it in the Land Rover and drove back to camp for pictures
 

Limpopo bushbuck

Full body mount to come

Well that's about it. In all it was a pretty good hunt, with....... wait a minute! What's that you say? Leopard? You mean you want to hear about the leopard hunt? OK, I guess it won't bore you too much.

As I said, we hung bait after bait at every known leopard tree in ARDA. We had had a nice male feeding on one before I shot the buffalo, but the three days of tracking buff without servicing the baits caused us to lose it. It wasn't until the eighth day that we were checking the baits and had sent the trackers up the donga to look while Henry and I stayed in the Rover. Suddenly we heard yelling in Shona, and Henry looked at me and simply smiled and said "eaten."

We walked up the donga and sure'nuff, the leopard had had a virtual feast. Or should I say leopards, as there were two different sets of tracks. One set was only slightly smaller than the other, but Henry said it had to be a breeding pair, as leopard never, never, never feed together unless they are breeding.

Well, this was where we would make our stand (pun intended) and Henry set about directing the construction of the blind.
 

The classic leopard hunting hide begins

Checking the shooting rest height

Putting on the cover vegetation

The finished product

Henry said we needed to sit the blind that night, as these were really hot leopards. For shooting light, Henry set up a rheostat light, which consisted of a set of wires hooked to a car battery, then to a rheostat, and strung all the way to the bait tree. The terminal end of the wire has an automobile tail light that is controlled by the rheostat. This little bulb is hung above the bait. When you hear the leopard in the tree, you can slowly turn up the rheostat to illuminate the scene with virtually no chance of spooking the cat, unlike spotlights. It was a neat contraption that I seldom hear of anyone else using.

That first night we thought we were going to have an early evening, as before sundown, there came a commotion from the donga unlike any I have ever heard. There was growling, grunting, roaring, more growling, then....nothing! I sat petrified, trying to swallow my heart back down into my chest, all the while keeping my scope trained on the bait. We waited all the way up until ten o'clock with no takers.

Henry said they were more interested in making whoopee than eating, but that that should change soon. Unfortunately, not too terribly soon, as seventh night turned into eighth, then ninth, tenth, eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth etc.

I was beginning to lose hope when we made our way to the blind on the fourteenth night. The leopards were still actively feeding, but feeding was taking place after we vacated the blind ever night. Around nine o'clock this evening, Henry decided to try an old trick: he called in the safari car for pickup. When they arrived, he started talking loud, banging stuff around in the back, slamming doors, and generally raising a commotion. Then we slipped back into the blind and had the safari car drive off with the trackers singing and chanting.

I thought Henry was crazy, as surely every leopard (lion, elephant, rhino and buff, for that matter) within a mile had run for deep cover. Then it happened. The dry mopane leaves covering the zebra bait rattled, shimmied and shook! "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, there's a leopard in the tree in front of us," I thought. "Oh God, now what do I do?"

As I sat there in the pitch dark, listening to the dry leaves rattle, I couldn't help but wonder why in hell Henry hadn't done something? Surely he heard what was going on! Suddenly I felt a hand on the back of my head push me forward and downward. I assumed this meant to get ready, and I mounted my rifle.

When the faint light came on, at first, all I could see was a moving blur. Soon, however, the blur started taking shape as my eyes adjusted to the scene. The leopard was standing dead broadside to me on a limb, reaching out with its right paw to tear off chunks of zebra. My crosshairs settled on a spot right behind the shoulder and I whispered to Henry, "should I shoot?"

Henry said "I can't see it's rear end to tell if it's the male or female. It's a pretty good leopard but there is no way I can tell. You will have to decide."

Crap! Yeah, leave it up to me, who is looking at his first ever wild leopard. I'm sure the expert here! Oh well... hell.... BANG.

At the shot, the leopard simply disappeared from my view. Henry quickly called in the safari car and started the third degree. "How do you feel about the shot?"

"Good," I said. "I had a very good, steady bead."

"I feel good about it, too," he said. "I think we are going to find him dead under the tree." Still, he proceeded to load his shotgun with buckshot.

When the trackers arrived, Henry went over the routine. "Everyone will have a light. If we get over there and he is not there, we will follow. If he comes for me, don't try and shoot him off me. I will get him with my .357. If he comes for you, I will tackle him off you, then shoot him with the .357. Never try to shoot a leopard off another person."

For a quiet, shy guy, Henry was sure doing a lot of talking, and I'm not too sure I liked the things he was saying! Whatever happened to "I think we are going to find him dead under the tree?"

Well, off we go -- three trackers, Henry and Me. Each tracker carried a machete (panga?), and I noticed that the closer to the tree we got, the closer they podded up. When we got to the tree, the three of them were virtually one person, looking three different directions.

But also when we got to the tree, no leopard!

There was blood, lots of blood, but no leopard. Henry asked in Shona which way he went. No answer, mainly because none of the trackers would look down -- they were too busy looking out 360 degrees! Again, he asked, firmly this time. One of the trackers glanced down at the blood and motioned down the donga, before resuming his watch. We eased down into the dry creek and found blood immediately, we slowly started down the dry creek, and whamo, there the leopard was -- stone-cold dead!

We all breathed a sigh of relief. The 180-grain, hand-loaded Nosler Partition had done its job well. We eased up and, after making sure it was done, checked the carcass. Sure enough, it was a damn female -- a dang big female (100 pounds)-- but a female none the less. I was disappointed, but not too terribly so, as this was day 14 of a 15-day hunt, and I had a leopard in the salt.

On the ride back, one of the trackers started singing in Shona. Then the others joined in. The closer we got to camp, the louder the chanting got. As we approached camp, staff members started coming out of their huts and joined in on the singing. As the leopard was unloaded, the singers broke into a dance, and someone produced a drum. I sat down and watched in awe as the an all out African party commenced right in front of my eyes.

I can truly say it was one of the most awesome moments of my life!
 

Henry and Me With Hard-Earned Leopard
 

An African party commences

The leopard at home in Atlanta

Well, that's it. It wasn't the world's greatest hunt of all time, but it sure as hell wasn't a bad one! It was Africa, and things happen in Africa, good and bad, that you can't predict. Frankly, that's what I love about it. That's why I can't wait to get back, that and a chance to finally get to pose with a buffalo, MY buffalo.

Below are a few more interesting pictures from the hunt.

The fellow holding the snare wire is an ARDA game scout assigned to observe our hunt, and is rumored to be one of the biggest poachers in the whole Save Conservancy. Such is the way these days in Zimbabwe.
 

Now here's a sight you don't see every day, unless, or course, you happen to live near water in Africa.

 

Nothing but the most modern conviences in our camp, including hot water from one of those new-fanganled, energy efficient water heaters you hear so much about.