HUNTING THE SWAMPS OF MOZAMBIQUE

Bob Shelton, M.D.

After the civil strife ended in Mozambique several years ago, the safari industry was slowly reopened by a handful of operators. At first, most hunters were skeptical that game in suitable numbers existed, but the favorable reports by these pioneers and their clients soon showed differently.

Every hunter who experiences an African safari vows to return and this emotional addiction has been expertly expressed by veterans of multiple safaris as well as first-timers. I am no exception. I plan and dream for months, even years, for each new safari. I prepare a wish-list of species to pursue, the best location and PH to help me be successful and, when possible, a new country and habitant to enhance my experiences and to add new adventure to the hunt.

I was intrigued with the prospect of a safari in Mozambique, than hooked. I booked a 10 day hunt with Graham Jones of the safari company of the same name. We are good friends and I had had a most successful Tanzanian safari with him in the past.  In addition, after Mozambique, we would pursue plains game and small cats with him at his game ranch in South Africa, but that is another story. In addition, my companion and new hunting partner, Julie Meagher would be on her first African safari, and her unbridled enthusiasm and excitement added to the thrill of the hunt. I was adamant that her first big game be taken wild and free. I had only a very short wish list of game, while her list was limited only by time and trophy fees.

Mozambique is a huge, sparsely populated country where remnants of old, unspoiled Africa still exist. The game is all unfenced-wild and free, and in many areas not pressured by recent hunting. Likewise, the road infrastructure is poor, making travel a tiring ordeal, but at the same time discouraging all but the most adventuresome. As stated in African Hunter II “Mozambique is for the serious

hunter…not for the fainthearted….where trophies are genuinely earned”. The hunting concessions [coutadas] are vast and lie in three distinctly different ecological regions—the northern savannah, the central woodlands along the Zambezi River and the coastal flats. We would be hunting in Coutada 10, bordering the Marromeu Swamps, the wettest coutada and the only one bordering the Indian Ocean.

Graham’s hunts are partnered by Bahati Safaris. The main camp, accessible only by charter aircraft, piloted by owner Johan Strasheim, is located in miombo woodland an hour drive from the flood plains and swamps. Individual wooden cabins are very comfortable with showers and toilets. The central boma with fire ring offers a relaxing setting for libations and recounting of the days events.

After the obligatory checking of the rifles, PH Marius Verster, apprentice Coert [Coera] Jansen van Rensburg and tracker Shorty took us on our first perusal of the area. Although we were only out for several hours it was evident that game was plentiful. We saw red duiker, bushbuck, sable, baboons and wart hogs too numerous to count, and we had not even gone near the flood plains.

The small and the big were my goal. The next morning we again spotted a mixture of game but had no shooters. I wanted a red duiker, having unsuccessfully hunted them in Natal years ago, but all we spotted did not wait around. After lunch, I got a Livingston Suni with a shotgun. That was the first of the small. Now we would go for the big.

Early the next morning we departed for the swamps along the Mupa-Metemb River. An hour drive in the Land Cruiser brought us to a fly-camp, where we transferred our gear to two ARGO ATVs. We then drove in them two hours across the flood plains. Many times the trackers had to get out and lift the front of the Argos over the vegetation when they got hung up. No other vehicle could have gotten us to the river. Now game was everywhere. We saw herds of waterbuck, Lichtenstein hartebeest, sable [many males in the 40” class but none larger], oribi, bushbuck, occasional bush pig, baboons and even two eland. Again, wart hogs were everywhere. Cape buffalo are abundant in this coutada but we did not go into their area. The dry grasses had been burned, while the lush vegetation in the low wet areas was tall, green and served as cover for the game and got us stuck. Finally, we arrived at a 5 hut fishing village where we set up fly camp on a dry hillock beneath cashew trees.  Despite the daytime temperatures, we had to wear long pants and long-sleeved shirts to discourage the mosquitoes and tsetse flies.

The Mupa-Metemb River winds through a mangrove swamp. Chocolate-colored from silt, the banks are mud splattered, slippery and ugly. There are no sand beaches or islands in this area for the crocs and hippos to sun themselves, but as the 6 foot tide drops they come out on the mud. Everything is fifthly and slick. The local fisherman provided mokoros [canoe-shaped, hollowed-out tree trunks] to paddle us along the river. I was amazed at the effortless skill with which these men navigated the river. 25 foot-long, mokoros easily carried 4-8 people and, as would be evident later that day, a big load. We sat on the floor on piles of palm leaves. Unfortunately, the mokoro leaked and soon our bottoms were saturated with the muddy water. The temperature was warm so we were not uncomfortable but despite multiple washing since then our clothes are still stained with the ooze.

We glassed the river banks spotting the occasional crocodile. A beautiful fish eagle hop-scotched along the tree tops in front of us for several hours. At low tide we stopped for lunch across the river from where we had spooked a large croc, but he never returned. Paddling up-river we always stayed on the shaded side. Marius glassed a HUGE croc sunning himself about a half mile up-stream. The mokoros were beached on the opposite side of the river. Marius, Shorty and I slipped and slide UP the bank into the mangrove forest. Here the stalking was easy.

Crocodiles have excellent sight, hearing and sense of smell. These remnants of the dinosaur age quickly slip into the water when sensing game, not in fear, but in hoping prey will enter the water and become a quick meal. One must be extremely careful stalking. We were careful. Shorty spotted the croc and we edged toward the riverbank. I had the perfect setup. The croc was broadside, 100 yards across the river in the sun, while shaded, I used a tree for a bench rest.

Perhaps, more than for any other animal, the first shot must be perfect. A wounded crocodile will immediately lunge into the water and upon dying will sink and be lost forever. The two anchoring shots, as expertly outlined in Kevin “Doctari” Robertson’s The Perfect Shot, are the brain and the spine. If you want a mount with an intact head, than the latter spine shot is preferred. I had studied his book carefully. My .416 Weatherby is zeroed at 100 yards to ½ MOA using 400 grain Barnes Triple-Shock handloads.

I placed the cross-hairs at the intersection of the line extending rearward from his smile and the lowest scale of the first line of neck scales. I squeezed and he was anchored—he never twitched. Nonetheless I added an insurance shot. As we paddled across the river to him there was no ground shrinkage—he got bigger and bigger. Several feet of his tail had been buried in the mud.

What a job to get him into the mokoro. Six men wallowed in the knee-deep mud, pushing and pulling and finally succeeded. The full moon added to the festive mood as we paddled to camp. Fourteen men dragged the croc from the mokoro onto land for photos, measurements and skinning. Croczilla, as he was quickly christened, taped 15’ 4” and is the largest croc ever taken at Bahati. Quoting Robertson, “for trophy size-12 feet is good, 13 feet very good, 14 feet exceptional, and any over 15 feet is phenomenal.” His stomach contained a partially digested porcupine but no stones.

Now it was Julie’s turn. For plains game on this trip we would share a Kimber 7400 chambered in .300 WSM using 180 grain Nosler Partition handloads. The rifle had been generously donated by Kimber Manufacturing to SCI-Maine for a fundraiser raffle when we were successfully fighting an anti-hunting referendum to ban bear baiting. I was the lucky winner, as one of our blind guests at our annual Sensory Safari drew my ticket.

Julie is an excellent shot and has practiced shooting “off the sticks”. We returned to the flood plains in the ARGO in search of a waterbuck. Many were spotted as well as the other aforementioned species.  A heavy beamed solitary male was feeding along a wet depression. Marius and Julie approached him using the scant available cover. Marius placed the sticks and Julie had her first big game animal—a 30” beauty. Marius then ritualistically dabbed a spot of the animal’s blood on her forehead commemorating her first hunting success. Back at the main camp, we continued to celebrate the hunt around a blazing fire.

A red duiker continued to elude me. We spotted many but always on the run. After a session of calling, we were moving to a new location when a troop of baboons scurried across the trail. Non-spooked they were feeding along a dry sand-river, the Mupa, and were led by a huge male. Julie, Marius, Coera and Shorty stalked after them. The baboons kept a safe distance not offering a shot. Suddenly, Marius spotted a Chobe bushbuck feeding across the sand-river. They crept forward trying to get an open shot. The bushbuck dropped down into the river bed and then climbed up the bank on their side. Julie had her rifle on the sticks but was waiting for the buck to lift his head and expose his shoulder. She then heard a drip, drip, drip. Glancing out of the corner of her eye she saw the sweat dripping off Marius’s chin. She stifled a chuckle, concentrated on the buck, squeezed and had a perfect one-shot kill.

Turning to Marius, she said “Never let them see you sweat”. He replied, “Great shot just shoot a little quicker, please”. They both shared a laugh.  Stalking and taking the bushbuck are the highlight of Julie’s fledgling hunting career.  It was at this moment that she heard Robert Ruark’s “horn of the hunter” and her life has been transformed forever.      

I continued after the small. Again, we were unsuccessful calling but while moving to another location we spotted a red duiker standing behind the land cruiser in thick cover. He did not move. I finally succeeded.

Mozambique provided Julie and me a great adventure in unspoiled Africa, the taking of trophy game in a unique swamp and flood-plain setting, and the camaraderie of good friends. We will always cherish it as Julie’s first safari.