Day 8 was a repeat of the previous day. I went to sleep thinking, tomorrow will be the day.
Day 9. Up at 5:00am, no reason because we are not going down the river until about 0900 to hit the tides right, but this is my last day to hunt and I want to enjoy all of it. We all file into our elegant mokoro with an extra boat handler. This boat was made especially for this hunt, large enough to hold half a ton of reptile. The conditions look much the same – not overly low tides, very few mud banks and not a lot of available crocs, just several in the water. We came around a bend and all our eyes were drawn to an object 500 yds ahead in the middle of the river almost too large to be what we were looking for. No, I might be wrong, but not the PH and tracker. It is a “big bloody croc”. We quietly slip to the north bank and tie the mokoro to an overhanging tree and leave the boat handler to look after it. It is not easy to get in or out of the boat because of the slippery mud banks, but we managed it and go directly away from the river for about 500 yards and then parallel to the river through the dense undergrowth. We are lucky – the tides have been so high that the entire bank is wet and the normally dry leaves are saturated. We are able to traverse the 500 yds along the river virtually silently. Now where are we in relation to the croc? I have little idea, but the local tracker is exactly on target as we slowly move back toward the riverbank. As the layers of brush are moved aside I get a glimpse of the crocodile. No shrinkage here. He is huge, ugly and menacing. He is not safely on a mud bank, but rather he is precariously perched on brush in the middle of the river. Mara says, “It’s your last day. It’s up to you, but it has to be a perfect shot.” I got down in a sitting position and didn’t like the hold. Seventy-five yards and a walnut-sized brain to shoot at – the hold must be solid. I abandoned the sitting position and dug myself and face into the mud. There, solidly on the target. I had just purchased a Schmidt Bender 1 ½ - 6 flashdot scope and couldn’t believe how my concentration was focused on that illuminated red dot. I was confident. The squeeze, the roar, the recoil – and then the croc rolling in the water. The shot was perfect and I expected no movement at all and the rolling by crocodile on his precarious perch gave me an empty feeling in my stomach. Everyone was silent. The boat was summoned and it seemed to take forever for the mokoro to reach the bank. The croc was lying on the brush pile upside-down and not moving as we all carefully moved toward our trophy. Ever so gently our tracker slipped a noose around one of the crocs front legs and he again began to thrash. Mara said, “Shoot him again.” I held the rifle straight down toward the water and shot for the throat which was a foot underwater when I shot, and it showered us all with the brackish water, but ended the fight. Both shots had gone through the brain. I don’t understand the rolling and thrashing, but I don’t hunt too many reptiles either. The next feat was the five of us getting out of the boat into the mud to roll this 1000+ lbs beast into its cavity. We did it, but the boat, which rode elegantly before with 12” of freeboard with five aboard, floundered back to camp dangerously close to the waterline with our friend along.
Only when we got back to our camp and used the Argo to winch the croc from the makora, then did we fully realized the size of this dinosaur. 14’ and missing about a foot or so of tail, missing teeth and probably 70 or 80 years old. What a beast!
As we make our way back to base camp and prepare to return to civilization, I realize how fast my ten-day hunt has gone by. I always thought of myself as a hard-working hunter that did OK, but never a lucky hunter. After this Mozambique adventure and my two phenomenal trophies though, I will have to change my opinion.
I have hunted Coutada 10 in Mozambique at least 8 times since ’99. I have seen the facilities and the amount and number of species get better and better every year. Where else can you say that? The trophy quality is improving every year as well. This improvement is due partly to Africa’s amazing ability to heal its wounds – in Mozambique’s case, 20 years of war – and also due to the diligence of the outfitters to harvest modestly and share the bounty with the locals, as well as comprehensive anti-poaching measures. Life is so much better now for the staff, their families and the surrounding villages that they can see the benefit of having a well-run hunting outfit.
Bahati has been owned by Johan Strasheim since the 2006 season and I can’t believe the infrastructure improvements, equipment purchases and exceptional staff that make this outfit run like the proverbial “well-oiled machine”. This is no easy feat in this part of the world.
This hunt during September 2008 was to be quite specialized as I have taken most every animal that I wanted during my other seven hunts and some species a few times (just love buffalo hunting). Crocodile have intrigued me ever since observing one of my friend’s hunts in 1999. This is an animal that is so well adapted to its environment that it has remained virtually unchanged or evolved in 200 million years! The dinosaurs became extinct 65 million years ago!
We arrived in base camp after the 2.5 h flight from Pretoria in Johan’s Aerostar and a brief stop in Beira for customs. Johan had all the current licence and tags and I was thrilled to be back “home” and welcomed by many “friends”, staff and PHs. The camp is better equipped every time I return. My special friend, Marius Verster (Mara), was as happy to see me as I was to see him – and I hoped this would be as relaxing and fun for him as I was planning it to be for me. Relaxing not in a physical sense, but in a mental sense as there would be no pressure to “shoot lots of stuff” from me. After 50 years of hunting, the game taken is only a bonus to the hunting experience.
The only other animal that I wanted to hunt this time was the Livingston Eland. When I first hunted in 1999, this species was rarely seen and never hunted. Now, magnificent eland bulls and cows are annual visitors increasing in numbers as the season progresses, peaking in September and October. Mara had sent me a picture of a superb trophy bull a mutual friend had taken and I wanted to see if I could be as lucky. Mara had done some preliminary scouting before I arrived and consulted his “reliable sources” and determined that a great bull had been sited a week or two earlier, but as they move a lot this time of year, he had little idea where he might be now. We drove about 45 min from base camp the first morning of the hunt to a likely “eland-friendly” spot and began crisscrossing the terrain to locate spoor. Soon we located some old spoor, then yesterday’s, and then that morning’s. We went off on foot for a couple of hours and did locate a small heard of eland cows, calves and two young bulls. Mara said, “We will keep this herd in mind as those young bulls will not service those cows and the big ‘blue’ bulls will eventually be drawn to the herd”.
Day two of the hunt we decided to go for our “big lizard”. An hour to buffalo camp and then three hours by an amphibious vehicle called an Argo (it sure needed to be amphibious too), and we arrived at our spartan spike camp – pup tent, limited water and food, campfire to cook on and outdoor “anywhere” toilets. I was in heaven! 200 ft from the Mupa matem, a crocodile and hippo infested river and no hint of civilization for 75 miles. We had hippos come by the tent each night on their nightly forage. I should mention that getting to our spike camp required that we wade through literally herds of water buck, larger than anything I have seen – they took a 34” bull this year. Many reed buck as well. A great flood plain of game.
We had to time the tides and heat of the day right to maximize the exposed banks at the heat of the day so the crocs would be sunning themselves. The time of low tides and the time of day are important. We would walk the 200 yds to our mahogany “makoro” (dugout vessel) – can you imagine how much an entire mahogany tree would be worth in North America? We would all pile in – hunter, PH, tracker, skinner and local guide – and head down the river. I would call it a creek by my standards, as there was virtually no flow except tide, and it was less than a 100 ft across. The aim is to try to spot the croc before they see, smell, hear, or simply sense you – no easy task. 500 yds away they often slip into the water as you approach. As luck would have it there was a storm off the coast and a period of very high tides as well, having the additive effect of huge high tides and nearly no low tides (i.e., no exposed banks and salt water upriver beyond our camp). Three days we hunted like this not seeing many crocs and when we did they weren’t where they would normally be seen. Not a good situation.
On the fourth day, we decided to return to base camp, “recharge our batteries”, replenish our food and water and try again with a better tide situation.
Day 5, we are up at 4:30am to try for eland again. We are trying another area where Mara “feels” there should be eland. After several hours of searching, we again found eland spoor and began tracking. I should mention that the number of sable in this area is amazing with 37” to 43” being typical. If you want a sable, here is the place to come. Lichtenstein hartebeest are very abundant as well. It is difficult to track the eland amongst all the other game and way too easy to lose the track, which we did.
Day 6 began as before with a hearty breakfast and leaving before daybreak. We tracked in the vehicle back and forth across the “eland” portion of the concession until again locating the spoor – yesterday’s and then this morning’s. We are off on foot again almost bumping into a fantastic sable bull 42”-plus and after and hour or so spotted a cow eland. We crouched through the bush and got closer to the herd. Suddenly Mara and the trackers are beside themselves with excitement. This is the huge “blue bull” – “makulu maningi”. Mara and the crew are acting like the hunt is over, but I’m seeing a very weary “blue bull” at over 300 yds and far from being “in the salt”. Mara says, “Can you see him?” “Yes, but there is a lot of brush both in front of my .375 rifle and in front of the bull.” “He’s going to be gone,” Mara says. “I know, I know, but the brush.” “Shoot now,” Mara says. Boom! I hardly hear the noise and certainly don’t feel any recoil. My hold was off hand and certainly not “rock steady” and of course there is that damn bush. Enough excuses? I did hit him but not exactly where I wanted, but the bull immediately fell behind the rest of the herd. We slowly stalked following a little blood when suddenly to the left, there he stood. Massive horns and huge neck standing defiantly – no prouder animal have I seen. One well-placed shot to the neck and the great beast was down. Everyone became very silent. This was a very special animal. The trackers were jubilant, but very respectful and reverent of this great bull. Mara was a bit teary-eyed and I was stunned. The trackers and Mara hiked back to the truck and left me alone with my bull and my thoughts – a long way from the Yukon standing in the wilds of Mozambique with this great bull.
How could I hope for anything more? A record book 40”+ eland and a fantastic hunt. Mara says, “Well, we still have three days left. Let’s try for that monster croc you want.”
Day 7 begins at 3:00am and off to the fly camp and 3 hours in the Argo to the Mupa matem. We are trying to get across this plain before it gets too hot - low 40s˚C (pretty hot for a Yukoner). We push the waterbuck and reedbuck out of out way and get to camp about 9:00am. Catch a nap for a couple of hours to wait for the tide to be right. The tides are still very high and few banks are showing. We actually don’t see a lot of crocs because of the conditions. “Do you want to lower your sites a bit from the 14’ you said?” I said, “No, I have been fortunate to take a beautiful eland bull and if I don’t take a big croc I still will have had a wonderful hunt.” “OK, nothing under 14’.” We slowly paddle up and down the river until dark. We got a glimpse of some big crocs, but in the water and then they soon submerged. Off to sleep with the sound of hippos fighting close by.
JIM HANEY
What can I say – this is the real deal! This hunt was why we go to Africa. No fences, no roads, no towns, far away from cities with only natives sparsely spread across an incredible landscape. Too hot, too many bugs, great food, lots of sleep (after you get over your 2am jet lag), long hikes, fantastic comradeship with PH and staff, sharing the hunt’s excitement with fellow hunters – who could ask for more!
I was an outfitter in Northern B.C. for ten years in the 1970s and have been associated with the hunting industry ever since. I now reside in the Yukon Territory. I have a very good sense of what it means to outfit properly.
I have been hunting in southern Africa since 1999 when fellow outfitters and I exchanged a hunt with the great fellows we met at the SCI show in Reno. It was a blessing and a curse at the same time. The blessing: we chose absolutely great PHs in Africa – honest, fun loving, and hardworking. The curse: because the outfitters were so good, the experience the best and the PHs becoming lifelong friends –despite being beyond my means – I haven’t missed even one year since 1999, returning annually to hunt southern Africa.
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