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THE SAVANNAS OF ZIMBABWE

Night and the high African grass were concealing our bending silhouettes. The quick walking pace was not giving us away thanks to the sandy sois muffling our steps. We’d been following one and the same itinerary for the second time around. Earlier that day, before sunset, the scout from the hunting camp had broken the news we’d been waiting for in the course of five days. Every evening upon sunset, the big male hippopotamus would sneak out of his den among the impenetrable reeds.

APRIL 15

We’d been tracing him again with my friend Emo. He was already prone to fire at any male specimen, even a smaller trophy one, but I and Stephen, the other professional hunter, had been trying to convince him that he could get an undistinguished trophy at any time in case he failed. That was making the new opportunity to trace down the two-ton animal on land still more important. Emo had already shot a hippopotamus in water. The experience had been, naturally enough, worthwhile but it could by no means be compared to hunting a hippo on land.
Somewhere in front of us, the hiding huge mouth could be heard shaving the meadow methodically as if it were a mowing machine. We slowed down our walk and started prowling towards the male animal still more noiselessly. We’d made a plan beforehand that in case of a fight Stephen would use his searchlight and Emo would aim and fire his 9.3 mm rifle. If necessary, I would interfere with my intro express, two-barrel, .470 NE caliber rifle.
When we were no more than 15 meters from the hippopotamus, he sensed us and gave a warning wheeze. Stephen’s searchlight lit him and Emo fired, taking a swift aim. I wonder where he has learned to fire so quickly at night time!
I was the last in the column and missed the exact hit of the projectile. However, judging by the reaction of the animal, it was clear that the bullet had hit the right place, the heart. It is by no means an easy task to knock down a two-ton beast, even if you shoot it at the heart.
Caught unawares, the animal quickly changed his reaction and turned to us, irritated and bewildered. I produced a quick fire with the right barrel, loaded with a 500 grain (32 gram) soft point lead bullet. My shot changed the hippopotamus’s intention to go towards us and he ran away. I fired the full-jacket bullet through the left barrel using the reverse trigger, aiming at the flank in my desire to stop the animal. My plan worked and I heard a heavy thump followed by rattling in the hippo’s throat and then wallowing, as a result of which most of the brush around got smashed. For a split second we lost him out of sight. It appeared the animal had fallen behind a high bush. Emo ran up and fired a finishing shot at the neck. Meanwhile, I reloaded the express with two more bullets. It is a basic rule to keep your weapon ready at hand even in cases when you are certain you are not going to use it.
We went round the bush where the hippo had fallen, approximately two meters from it. The safety bolt of my “Krieghoff” had been engaged. Right then, the huge heap in front of us rose... Sensing what might happen I yelled at Emo, who was standing on my right:
“Shoot him at the head! Just shoot him at the head!”
The butt-stock of my heavy intro express had already found its right place on my shoulder and the safety bolt, as if by its own self, had taken position ready to fire. Yet, I was refraining from firing, waiting for Emo to produce his final shot and kill the hippopotamus. The animal rose slightly, surprisingly for a wounded one, and his huge mouth gaped wide, abyss-like in front of us. There was no more time to loose so I pulled the trigger. The full-jacket bullet hit centrally, somewhere under the eye-line, pierced the brain, turning it into soft mash, finally breaking the spine at the base of the skull. Later it was going to become clear that Emo had fired simultaneously and his projectile had hit the hippopotamus also under the left eye. The animal, which looked as if it had been crashed against a concrete wall, collapsed on the spot without any further signs of life. Later on, after the post mortem, it became clear that the first slug, fired by Emil, had been sufficient enough to fulfill the aim for it had pierced both lungs, tearing apart the upper section of the heart, embedding on the opposite side of the hide. We failed to discover the soft point bullet fired by the “express” but the one which had stopped the animal, hitting the flank, had broken the joint on its way to the stomach. The other Woodley full jacket 500 grain bullet, aimed frontally between the eyes, had penetrated some 55 cm before stopping and breaking the spine at the base of the neck. Anyway, we were very happy because of the emotion which that night pursuit had gifted us with. Having got previous experience with hippopotamus hunting, I must say that the right way for doing it is to stalk at night on land and not to fire from a safe distance while the animal is resting peacefully inside the water basin.
……………………………
Now, when I go back to the memory of that hunt, I actually remember the period preceding it, while we were organizing that safari and when Emil managed to shoot down 14 big animals in the course of twelve days only: an African buffalo, two hippopotamuses, two crocodiles, a leopard, a gigantic eland, a waterbuck, three zebras, a baboon, an impala and a blue gnu among them.
When some months ago Emil suggested that I should organize a safari for him and his friends I enjoyed the idea because I knew what a good hunter and an accurate shooter he was. For sure, when you have a well trained hunter beside you, the chances of success are greater. As bad luck would have it, after some long months of preparation, after we had already got our visas and export permits, as well as airplane tickets, two of the hunters suddenly refused to accompany us because of some business matters. Emil had firmly made up his mind to visit one of Africa’s wildest parts, the Zimbabwean savannas and rocky mountains.

APRIL 6

We arrived after a long journey, changing three air lines. The professional hunters met us at the airport and we made towards the southern parts of Zimbabwe, the Triangle region and Eagle Mount, an extremely scenic area covered with hills and high mountains of bare rocks, full of animals and great expectations.
We arrived at the farm late at night and, understandably enough, didn’t have the chance of hunting but we had a talk with our professional hunting guide Stephen who was one of the landowner’s sons. We made a plan, which like those of other safaris, included shooting of herbivorous animals first, which would serve as baits for leopards. Emo’s desire to shoot a leopard was great but I was frank enough to tell him that this special cat was one of the hardest to get at, very unpredictable and sly as it was, deserving its ranking among the Big Five. I also mentioned to Emo that he shouldn’t get disappointed in case he failed to shoot it because luck was very important in hunting.
Tired as we were, we had a quick supper. We had to get up at 4.30-5.00 am so that we could be in the Jeep by 6 o’clock, having had breakfast already. It would be dawning by then and we would be able to see most of the animals we’d been after. Before starting tackling the main task, that is to start killing the buffalo, the leopard, the hippopotamus and the crocodile, we had to prepare bait stations for the leopard and the crocodile, because they are bait animals. In order to test the accuracy and skill of the hunter, it is a must to shoot first animals which do not bite, as our professional hunter used to say. This is disputable though, because a gnu, for example, can be an extremely dangerous enemy considering its weight of over 300 kilograms.

APRIL 7

The first animal we came across and we decided to shoot at was a young impala, which didn’t have big horns but, anyway, we needed some bait. Emo fired from his tripod, which is used by most hunters. The shot hit the animal somewhat sidelong as it was standing in front of us. Basically, such shots are very hard to do, because the risk of making mistakes is great and the chance of producing the right shot is minimal. In that particular case there was no other way. After the shot, the animal sprang up, obviously wounded. I was watching through my binoculars how the bullet hit a bit to the right side coming out, most probably, from that same side. The impala was quite unlikely to remain on the spot so we rushed in pursuit. Thanks to our experienced trackers we spotted the animal very soon. It had fallen down to the ground. The bullet had gone through the stomach, destroying the hind leg. That had hampered the impala from running further away.
We started a pursuit of zebras and gnus. If we managed to kill one we would provide baiting material for several bait traps. In no more than two hours we came across a solitary gnu, which was very old but in good health. It had not spotted us and we managed to find the right moment for shooting. This time, I made pictures with my video camera, which had played me a dirty trick the previous time. I saw the animal jump and dart away. Our leader Stephen was just changing position taking a better stand so he missed the hit. When we approached the spot there was not any blood around. That fact discouraged our group a bit. After we went on following the tracks left by the animal, we noticed how deep its hooves had dug into the ground, a sure sign it had been wounded and in a state of stress. Shortly after, we discovered the first small drops of blood. I immediately recognized a lung wound for the color of the blood was light and full of tiny bubbles. We found the dead gnu some 70-80 meters further away.
We continued our trek and came across a few herds of zebras which seemed sort of restless. Shortly after, we understood the reason for their behavior. There were lion tracks all about the place and parts of a zebra carcass. The lion attack had happened two or three days ago probably, because the zebra had been completely eaten and it was only the skin which had remained hanging on the bare skeleton. Obviously, the lion was hiding near-by, because some zebras and a herd of gnus kept running to and fro, changing direction. Success seemed unlikely with those frightened animals. We went back to the camp where a very delicious lunch, reminding me of tasty Greek moussaka and gorgeous Zimbabwean beer were awaiting us.
We had about an hour and a half break for a rest at the camp. At 3 pm we went out hunting again, hopeful to see an eland which had been traced by our trackers. They said the animal was a high quality trophy one so our common efforts were concentrated on finding it out. We followed the tracks but failed to go near the animal. It had not been the only eland around and what we were after was a maximum good trophy.
That is why we gave up shortly after that and started looking for a big herd of buffalos. That didn’t need a lot of efforts. Buffalos are more settled animals inhabiting the same habitats. The problem was to come nearer the herd without being noticed and to select the right animal for shooting that is an elderly specimen with large horns. It is a common mistake for hunters to shoot down younger animals with large horns because it often comes out that the boss, the knoblike swelling on the horns, is soft and the animal itself is not interesting as a trophy.
We’d been prowling noiselessly up a hill in our desire to take a better view of the herd. The dense vegetation was hampering us from a clear view but soon we were all gazing at a magnificent buffalo, an extremely beautiful one, quite old, whose horn spread was very good, about 39 inches, and the boss was hard. We started waiting for a convenient position to shoot. We’d been quietly discussing whether we’d made the right choice but finally came to the unanimous conclusion that it was the best specimen in the herd. It was very near sunset, there was no much time for fussing around so, after some 30 minutes of watching, the hunter prepared himself, resting the rifle on the tripod while he was sitting. Then he fired following my instructions, hitting the center of the chest somewhere beneath the chin. The slug hit a bit lower piercing the lung. Without showing any signs of being hit, no staggering or roaring, the animal rushed forward finding refuge among the herd. In a minute, we heard the rattle in its throat characteristic for the dying buffalo. A few females accompanied by their calves had gathered around the dying male buffalo to express their sympathy. Buffalos are very social animals. We started clapping hands and shouting in order to drive them away. However, they kept imitating false attacks in their desire to make us run away so that to defend the male beast. Some of the attacks looked so real that our professional hunter Stephen and I lifted our heavy rifles on several occasions ready to shoot and defend ourselves. In the end, when we came nearer in open chain formation, making noise, the herd dispersed. Our buffalo was left on his own. It was obvious he was dying, shot in the chest, but to end his suffering we had to fire a second time. Emil fired his 9.3x62“Blazer”, using a full-jacket, 18.5 gram bullet. Afterwards, while skinning the animal, we found out that the slug had penetrated as far as the stomach, piercing 120 cm deep in his hard body. The 9.3x62 caliber is known as the minimal caliber for shooting animals from The Big Five group. I’d instructed the hunter to use it because he was feeling safe and the recoil of the rifle didn’t bother him and I personally consider it very important that the first shot should hit the right spot. In addition to this, there were two of us standing by, ready to use our intro express weapons in case the animal had to be killed. The first shot left it no further than 30 meters from the place it had been shot down. We went home. There was a humble feast celebrating the successful hunt.

APRIL 8, EASTER

We’d all failed to sense that the holiday had begun. It was after we’d finished eating that we noticed those small baked rolls, with crosses and raisins, placed on the table, looking so much like our “kozunak” Easter bread. Morning came with dark cloudy skies and torrential rain. The clothes were drying on our very bodies in the short breaks when it was not raining for we didn’t have the chance to change because the camp was too far away. We had been riding on the open Jeep most of the time, covering huge distances of dirty roads and rugged terrain.
As soon as we entered a village of thatched-roofed huts made of mud and branches, people complained to us that a huge hippopotamus had been scaring the women each time they went to do their washing in the river. The villagers had been expecting us hopeful that we would drive the monster away. Actually, there was fresh dung on the river bank. However, we considered our chances to encounter the hippopotamus were very small because it had disappeared somewhere among the reed. Then we reached another lake. There were some dry trees in it as if left on purpose. A small crocodile jumped into the water from an island sticking out in the center of the pond. Unfortunately, we had no time to react. There were about twenty hippopotamuses inside and we had to select the trophy animal among them. The animals were staying in the water because it had constant temperature and the weather outside was bad. One couldn’t guess which of them was big or small, male or female. For a moment we thought we had recognized a few bigger male specimens which had longer snouts. Only their ears and nostrils were emerging above the water. Occasionally, one of them would snort out. Frankly speaking, the last thing I wanted was to disturb them, so cozily clustered inside the water.
The little hippopotamuses looked like sweet piglets, defenseless and naïve, standing close to their mothers. It would have been far better if we had come across a solitary male animal driven away from the herd or which was about to drive away another one. Usually, there is strong hierarchy among hippopotamuses. The strongest male is the leader of the herd, with a harem of his own consisting of all the females there, which are at his disposal and are not allowed to go anywhere or have contacts with newcomers. The fight for supremacy between the old and the new leader has rarely a lethal outcome but it leaves deep scars on the bodies of the rivals. The scars are the result of serious wounds, deep cuts on the hind, some of them still bleeding. The hippopotamus’s tusks are similar to the ones of a wild hog but many times bigger. The two front teeth among the tusks are thick, round and considerably lighter in color than those of the wild hog.
We kept circling round the lake in our desire to get a better view of the hippopotamuses. We even had to cross a shallower spot reaching something of a tiny island. The lake was infested with crocodiles which were all around us, most of them big ones. We were wading bare-foot and I was holding my nitro ”express” in case some of the lizards would be willing to play games with us. However, the beasts were clever enough to retreat further inside.
We approached the hippopotamuses at some 60-70 meters, which was the perfect distance for a “brain shot”. The idea is to hit the hippo with a brain shot so that it can die instantaneously and then sink down. Shortly after it sinks down, the hippopotamus emerges on the surface of the water pushed up by the gases inside its abdominal cavity and the hypodermic fat. If it is shot early in the morning, the hippo emerges very quickly on the surface, within 3-4 to 6 hours. That is due to the fact that the fermenting food in its stomach is in huge quantities at that time of the day for the animal goes out grazing in the evening. In the afternoon, the hippo has emptied its stomach more or less, so the swelling is considerably less.
We were soaking wet by torrential rains.
The local villagers told us that a leopard had eaten several goats in a region which was extremely favorable for the predator for it was abundant in rocks and caves. The people there had killed almost all the antelopes using traps. The only game left included some hippos, crocodiles, a few zebras and the leopard, naturally, because they didn’t fit into the traps.
When there is no game leopards feed on domestic cats and rats. The leopard is capable of inhabiting a small space thus remaining unnoticed. Stephen told me he had recently come across a story in the press about a leopard which had managed to hide for some years in the attic of a house in downtown Johannesburg (South Africa). It used to go out hunting at night feeding on cats, rats and dogs. After the disappearing of a great number of pets it became clear that the fierce beast had been raging around the city center. The leopard was shot dead after a successful action. Nobody had noticed the presence of that dangerous neighbor in the course of two years.
However, the one here had given away its presence.
We bought a goat which we used as bait. We hoped that the next day we would see a hippo, a crocodile and a leopard, most certainly.
We’ve been on the camp for three days together with a Dutch hunter who we don’t see during the day because we’re all busy on the terrain. Tonight our Dutch colleague is very happy for he has hit an elephant with 60 pounds heavy tusks. That means 27-28 kg on each side which is equal to some 60 kilos altogether, and that is a real hit! Today, a 40 pound elephant tusk trophy is considered a good one. The elephant shot by the Dutchman had been ambushed on a cornfield where it had been raging for some time at night. That very night had proved to be the last one for the beast. Night hunting in Zimbabwe is permitted only when it concerns dangerous animals like that elephant.

IN PURSUIT OF THE LEOPARD

AFTER EASTER, APRIL 9

The tracks of an eland can be seen clearly on the ground even if it’s not wet for it is a very heavy animal weighing about 800-900 kg. We noticed a sole male animal which is a good sign for those specimens are real huge and heavy and their horns are quite big. The eland was intelligent enough and managed to escape. We saw it two more times hanging around with a herd of zebras and gnus. The animal didn’t give us a chance to approach it nearer than 200 meters which was rendering shooting impossible on a terrain like that one. The forest was very dense with intertwining branches and any bullet would be lost in the jungle. There was no other choice for us than to go back and have lunch.
While we were having lunch some good news came that the baiting station near the camp had been visited by a big leopard. We started preparing for the hunt right away. We expected the leopard to be a clever one knowing how to outwit people because it was living near a farm. That was making us think that it would probably come out around 9 pm. At that time of the year it gets dark about 6 pm usually. We were ready to keep waiting up to 11 pm at least. We were sure the leopard was going to come up to the bait again.
We built up a blind, a tent made of khaki material with windows. We put some branches over it. Inside the tent was black in color which was making it still more secure as a hiding place. The slits, through which we were to fire, were 20-25 cm big, so small as to let only the rifle through. The very weapon had been fixed on a stand which gave it a good support and the hunter could use it without having to move. The first shot at a leopard is very important because there is rarely a chance for a second one.
We were at the baiting station at 4 pm. I saw that some of the bait had been eaten. The bait had been that same gnu Emo had shot down on the first hunting day. We were three of us inside the tent, Emo, me and Stephen. I was somewhat in the back holding my camera but it soon became clear that I wouldn’t be able to use it for it was dark already and it had stopped functioning. Just then, in the twilight we saw the leopard. Stephen and I noticed it almost simultaneously. We showed it to Emo immediately who got ready for shooting taking a precise aim. The leopard was standing on the ground it had not climbed up the tree. We could see it clearly. The beast was looking up at the carcass taking an occasional look at us in the direction of the blind. It was very cautious obviously sensing some danger in the air.
Right then the shot resounded. The leopard sprang up as if stung, and stung it was, and disappeared in the dense of the wood. We took a five minute break, then fixed two lanterns on our rifles and walked ahead. Stephen was leading us directly towards the spot where we’d last seen the leopard before it had disappeared, but it was no longer there. I made a suggestion that we should follow the blood leading to the bait. There was blood at the spot showing that the animal had been hit in the lungs, it was light in color, full of bubbles and pieces of flesh. I was sure the beast had been fatally wounded. We were following the blood trail very carefully because if the hit had not been central but peripheral, we were risking an attack. I had already been in a similar situation when we managed to stop the attack in the last minute, when three hunters fired their weapons simultaneously.
Naturally, the leopard had gone towards the densest part of the wood, so we had to creep among the bushes. I was the first one in the group to see its beautiful motley coat not further than a meter and a half from me. I aimed my rifle but it was needless, the leopard had been dead. Later we saw that Emil’s bullet had pierced the front left shoulder-blade, passing through the left lung, tearing the heart apart, going out from the right lung. We used a 9.3 mm TUG slug, weighing 19 grams which had done a perfect job. It is not necessary to use such heavy bullets for leopards. A friend of mine, who is a professional hunter, told me that he has killed over 50 leopards with .243 caliber and I completely agree that it is good enough in most cases but only if you can see the animal clearly. If, however, some obstacle, like a branch, for example, happens to be in your way it can divert the bullet and you’ll be in real trouble. That is why I like to have a guarantee and I use heavier bullets. I think the .338”Winchester” is an optimal choice because it easily makes its way through light bushes and grass and proves lethal with a comparatively high speed. Emo’s trophy was a magnificent male specimen which I estimated to be about 70 kg. Later the scales stopped at 69 kilos. A leopard’s age is determined by touching the front tooth in the back cutting section. If the tooth is furrowed, that means the animal is young. The more furrowed it is, the younger the animal. That particular one was no less than 6-7 years old. Stephen said later that it was probably 7-8 years old. We took pictures and went home to the camp. We had an exciting welcome celebration which showed that the leopard is considered a serious enemy. Both black and white men were rejoicing equally with the hunter. That animal had been living for years near the farm managing to escape the slug. Now it had been outwitted. Emo had fired a perfect shot and was celebrating his victory. Naturally, we treated ourselves to some vodka which had been left. Then we went to sleep dog tired.

PART TWO-sequel

APRIL 10

The next day we were planning to go hippo and crocodile hunting. We went by the lake where we’d noticed on several occasions animals of both kinds but we didn’t manage to select a big male hippopotamus. Luckily, though, we came across a huge nice crocodile. We stationed ourselves some hundred meters from the beast discussing whether it was possible to shoot or not. Stephen agreed upon shooting. Emo produced a good shot for a hundred meter distance but what he needed was just one centimeter lower hit in order to kill the reptile on the spot. The crocodile dived into the water with the slug in its body which had crushed part of the skull to pieces. Yet, the beast was able to move. It entered the water and got lost. We went to check on the rocks which were forming something of a small island where we’d first seen the crocodile. There was blood and parts of its skull scattered all around. But
there was no sign of the crocodile. It had been a deadly situation for the animal and it had certainly died but the trophy had disappeared, gone as a gift for the “river God”.
We went on reaching the opposite side of the lake where some fishermen with small boats helped us cross an impassable from the land section and then the fleet left us on the shore where we ambushed a group of four hippos and a single animal which was standing aside.
After lengthy discussions and observation we decided that the single animal was a huge male specimen. It is very hard to distinguish between male and female hippos. It is only when the male one opens his mouth that you can recognize his tusks. Other signs are the scars over the body but if the animal is beneath the water the hunters can’t see them. The female hippos have also a big head and body. When after a four hour debates the hippo opened its abyss-like mouth and yawned Emo got permission to fire. The hippopotamus sank immediately.
That same day Emo was lucky to shoot a baboon from 250 meters. The first shot hit the animal’s leg and the second one that followed made it fall down dramatically like a flying bird from a 40 meter high tree. What a perfect shot it was!

APRIL 11

We made up our minds to change the hunting territory. Emo was willing to shoot yet another hippopotamus and a crocodile. Hunting those animals proved to be far more difficult and time consuming than hunting other beasts because finding the right specimen required crossing lots of roads and checking various water basins.

APRIL 12

The last day before we’d moved to the Gona-Re-Zhou, which was some 120 km from our camp, we visited a water basin because we’d noticed on the opposite bank lots of crocodiles and some huge hippos. Unfortunately, that territory belonged
to another hunting ground and we were not allowed to hunt there. Those rules are strictly observed in Africa.

APRIL 13, GONA-RE-ZHOU

The first day we were very busy inspecting the territory. The animals from Plains Game were not to be seen there. There were crocodiles, hippopotamuses, elephants and hyenas, though.
We were ambushing an elderly hippopotamus near a water basin, from a hill, comfortably positioned on the rocks. We believed the animal was a huge one. However, it appeared they were two hippos, comparatively younger and smaller in size, which were not worth hunting. After that we went elephant hunting. We positioned a few spies on the fields where we were expecting the elephant to appear. We had been right for we received a radio-call from one of our positions. We arrived there driving our Jeep, leaving the vehicle very far from the spot and continued walking in the dead of night in complete silence. Our guide would stop time and again looking through his binoculars for the animal. It was pitch-dark, however. We were making a quick progress but had to slow down the pace. I could hear the huge animal uprooting the corn stems, chewing noisily. When we were some 40 meters from the elephant, the wind which had been blowing sideways, suddenly changed direction and started blowing in our back, right towards the elephant. Elephants are very sensitive to human presence their sense of smell is the strongest. Having sensed us, the big animal turned round and moved right in our direction, most obviously attacking. We turned on our powerful search lights and got ready for shooting. Fortunately for us and for it, the elephant raised its trunk and started running, its ears spread fan-like. It had long but thin tusks so Stephen quickly decided that it was a young male animal, with 35 pounds teeth. Our target had been a bigger one. There was in that region a male elephant whose teeth we were expecting to be about 60 kg. Even if it had been him the chance of shooting was meager for the beast disappeared unexpectedly fast. Making just a few paces, about three meters each, the animal disappeared quickly inside the high corn.
We went on night hunting. We moved to a field where people had spotted hyenas. Imitating their sounds we started teasing them in order to challenge them come nearer. Hyenas are very social and territorial. They’ve got their own territory and hierarchy when hunting and distributing the game. That is why, when there is any intruder around, the local pack rush to drive it away.
That quality of theirs was used by me and Stephen, to lure them making a feeding hyena sounds, trespassing their territory. I had never expected the hyena would be so quick to come. It was only after five minutes that we heard the typical laughing and howling which ceased in a moment and the pack crossed our way no further than 30-40 meters from us. Because it was pitch-dark we couldn’t manage to throw light on them and shoot, so we waited and went on calling them. Something had stirred their suspicion so that they disappeared quickly not giving us any chance for shooting.
The night was over and we went home in the small hours. Emo and me were riding on top of the open Jeep, seated on the movable seat. Emo confided afterwards that he had been on the verge of falling off for he’d been constantly falling asleep out of exhaustion.
We used to get up early in the morning each single day, about 4.30-5.00, and we went to bed at about 1 pm. Every day was a very busy one, including pursuit, walking, hanging around in our vehicles or standing under the burning sun.

APRIL 14

The next morning we slept till late and woke up at 7:30. We had breakfast at 8 o’clock and set out on a journey. We spent the day hanging around waiting for the evening when we were going to ambush the crocodile.
We went back home to the open air living room and while we were drinking some Coke we heard the crocodiles attacking the goat we’d tied up as a bait some 50 meters away. Generally, the camp ground was infested with animals which were coming straight into our hands so we didn’t have to make an effort and go very far like we used to do the previous days.
We had reached the spot already. The crocodiles had begun eating the goat but they proved to be very small ones, about 2-2.5 meters each, with the exception of one only which, however, ran away very quickly. Its silhouette was enormous. We positioned ourselves ready for shooting. When the crocodile passed by a second time, moving slowly, Emo fired the perfect brain shot. The crocodile slowed down. I told him to fire once again because I know that crocodiles even when shot dead manage to react and hide in a secret place which makes looking for them very hard. Emo fired again, hitting once more, frontally this time, right in the brain. Stephen rushed into the water for he himself had experienced situations when the crocodile had managed to escape. He grasped the reptile and started pulling it out on the shore. However, the next moment the crocodile seemed to come back to life, its four paws started paddling, dragging Stephen into the deep water. He yelled:
“Shoot! Shoot again! Aim at the spine!”
This time Emo most intuitively, without even taking a proper aim, fired, hitting exactly the joint connecting the skull with the spine, while Stephen was holding the beast by the tail, knee deep in the water. The crocodile was already finished. We managed to pull it out of the water, joining efforts. It was 3.30 meters long.
We were extremely happy because those trophies we’d been after for five days, had already been a fact, hit in the course of 40 minutes, not further than 100 meters from the camp. I asked Stephen how big a crocodile needed to be in order to wound a grown up person. He answered he could hardly give me a precise answer but a friend of his, a normal 1.92 m tall man, had been attacked by a 2.5 m long crocodile while diving and harpooning fish. The crocodile had broken
the harpooner’s arm with a single blow. Making an extreme effort, the diver managed to reach the trunk of a tree and tried to climb it up but the beast bit his leg, tearing it apart and pulled the man back into the water. With the speed of a lightning, it attacked again, breaking the man’s right arm.
“At that moment it became clear to me that it was all over, so I just relaxed.” confided Stephen’s buddy. Luckily, there happened to be a boatman near by rowing his boat. He came to the rescue firing at the crocodile from 20 cm distance. Then he loaded the victim and the crocodile on his boat. That’s how the size of the reptile became clear later on.

EPILOGUE

During the two days that had been left our schedule was very busy in spite of the fact that the greater part of the hunt had been over and successful. Emo’s desire to kill a waterbuck and an eland was strong dating back from the time we had been in Namibia. The price of both animals was higher there than in Zimbabwe but that had not been the reason why the hunter hadn’t got those antelopes. Hunt means a great deal of luck and in that particular case we hadn’t come across any appropriate game.
This time around we had a lot more chance. There remained two more days left out of the eleven we had initially planned. It was almost at the end of the day, near sunset, that we spotted a zebra herd. They were also on our desire agenda so we got off the Jeep very cautiously and started ambushing. I have mentioned time and again that black and white zebras are extremely wary, suspicious and gifted with excellent eye sight. Soon, our noiseless sneaking gave fruit and we positioned ourselves comfortably, ready to shoot. While we’d been watching the zebras, a waterbuck popped out suddenly in front of us. The specimen was with a good trophy and Stephen gave permission for shooting after we had waited for the zebras behind him to go away for fear some could get incidentally wounded. The 19 gram bullet flew out with 740 mp sec. I heard it splash into the waterbuck. The animal staggered forward trying to run but stuck its head into the ground instead. Then it suddenly sprang up and got lost from sight. I was sure the hit had been good but quickly followed the antelope because it was getting dark already. When we got to the spot we found lung blood and followed the trail. Then I spotted still another trail this time from a muscle wound. I drew Stephen’s attention. A minute later I glimpsed a young zebra among the bushes, which was limping, left behind the herd.
The other zebras could be heard neighing, urging their mate to hurry up. It was obvious the animal had been hit by accident. We had to shoot it so that to save it from dying slow and becoming the prey of predators. The shot had not resounded yet when one of our black trackers shouted out that he had discovered the waterbuck.
Up till then, Emo had not missed a shot but now he had already started to hit two animals at a time.
Early the next morning we were again after the zebra herds. Hunting those animals proved to be a real challenge. I’ve always considered that zebra skins are not only lovely but very practical as well. That trophy doesn’t occupy a lot of space like other ones and one can use it as a rug on the floor or as decoration on the wall. Clearly, Emo was sharing my opinion because his desire was to shoot still one more zebra. He had an excellent opportunity to fire a 120 m shot early the next morning which he performed perfectly well. The next zebra in a row had to say good-bye to its stripes.
We went on hunting, following a herd of elands. Stopping at every open clearing ,hidden among the wood trees, we watched carefully through our binoculars the spot. That’s how we came across a herd of elands. A big male eland, which was almost double the size of the female ones, was conspicuous. The distance was 190-200 meters. The huge antelope, weighing nearly a ton, was an easy target at that distance. The short 50 cm barrel of the rifle sent its deadly load towards the magnificent creature. The male eland jumped up, bending his spine. That was a clear indication that the bullet had hit the heart. Though wounded and near death, the animal started running followed by the herd. The antelope passed no more than 35 meters and collapsed heavily on the ground.
We spent our last safari day in Harare, the capital of Zimbabwe. The five star hotel, the French restaurant, the prawns, the salmon fillet and the chilled white wine returned us to civilization.
The next day we were flying back to Bulgaria which we’d been missing already. It’s good to visit exotic spots on earth but it is best to be back home.

ROBERT ATANASSOF