The following is a report sent to me by a friend/student/colleague.
-Frank
“They look at you like you owe them money” – Robert Ruark, regarding cape buffalo
I wanted to relay my experience while hunting a Cape Buffalo in South Africa on June 3, 2024. Some of the “Team Tactics” we’ve trained for certainly came into play!
My buffalo encounter occurred near dusk. I was hunting with a locally borrowed 470 Nitro double rifle as attempting to transport any firearm through Heathrow airport (connecting flight to Africa) is about impossible.
The rifle was equipped with a very dirty Trijicon Gen1, which had a large red dot and no brightness adjustment. That, combined with shooting directly into the sunset at 100 yards, was not an ideal shooting situation, nor anything I’ve specifically trained for. Although, the low/no light shooting we’ve done helped me remain calm and not get disoriented. Due to the optic’s shortcomings, I saw no clear target definition, just a jumble of orange sunset glare and red starbursts over a sort-of-buffalo-shaped black oval in the shadows.
Even with those issues, and knowing my rifle was properly zeroed and that I run triggers correctly, I employed the DTI/Fortress doctrine of: if we’re 80% certain we’ll get a hit, take the shot. If we wait till we’re 100% certain, the window of opportunity will be closed. I was 80%, so I took the shot with both eyes open and co-witnessed the red dot onto the buffalo.
First shot, HIT. Second shot, HIT. The Buffalo, however, was unimpressed – just angry!
At this point a bachelor group of 5 bulls is starting to run to my right. My PH [Professional Hunter], Christian, was already to my right, armed with a CZ 550 375H&H – we took off running thru the thorns and scrub brush to catch up to the group. My wounded buffalo couldn’t keep up with the herd, but instead of leaving him behind, the whole group stopped to wait, and then “circled the wagons” around him.
Andy (right), Christian (left)
This is when communication between teammates REALLY started to matter. Christian was ahead of me about 20-yards and had a better angle on the wounded buffalo. He shouted at me to ask my permission to shoot. I gave it immediately. His 375 barked. HIT.
The group moved again to the right, which put me at a better angle, but I’d lost track of which buffalo was which, as the herd had sort of “spiraled” around each other. I shouted to Christian and asked which buffalo it was. (There were 2 large ones in the group, and I had one in my sights! But, I couldn’t see all 5 animals from my angle) “He’s the one looking straight onto you!” which instantly confirmed I had the correct animal in my sight. BANG miss. BANG hit. Christian also shot, missing twice. I instinctively shouted to Christian “RELOADING!” to which Christian reacted by running over to cover me.
I was back in the fight in a matter of seconds, then Christian topped off his magazine. The animals had moved back to our left again, so we moved too, parallelling the herd. We Communicated every step of the way. “They’re to our right, 60-yards!”, “I’m moving up in front of you”, “I’m circling to your left”, etc. which had the effect of a sort of “rolling cover” as we were both walking to our left at the same speed, in a parallel direction to the group of bulls, while taking shots at the animal as we could.
Eventually the wounded bull laid down – Christian and I regrouped about 50-yards away and discussed distance and an angle on the animals. I knew I had 1 barrel fired and 1 loaded but didn’t know the condition of Christian’s rifle. I asked about his ammo status; he told me he was topped off. I informed him I was unloading my hollow points and reloading with solids. [Solid bullets] He confirmed, and we waited.
It then got really spooky. (it’s important to remember this whole thing is happening in the last 10 minutes of daylight, so at this it’s very hard to see.) The other large bull in the group, sensing the Alpha Male was weakened, began fighting the wounded bull on the ground. Full speed rams, driving him into the ground, hooking him with his horns. It was savage!
The new bull, who just got chased thru the bush and shot at, and in a fight moments ago, turned to us and took 3 steps forward. I already had the thought in my head, “If he charges, I have to wait for him to get to 20-25 yards so I can hit shoulder or brain.” And while simultaneously thinking that, Christian said, “he may be charging”.
The day before I was told that a herd of cape buffalo is referred to as an obstinacy, which is derived from the word obstinate. I was quickly learning why!
We waited. The bull stood his ground and so did we. A South African version of the “Mexican standoff”.
Christian began shouting at the bull and fired a few rounds from his CZ P09 sidearm to scare him off, but to no avail. Meanwhile I kept scanning the group with my flashlight to count the pairs of eyes. While Christian was trying to coax the new Alpha to leave, I assigned myself the task of tracking the locations of the other 3 living animals.
Eventually we made a very slow retreat (about 100 yards) to get out of sight, then jogged back to the truck to call for reinforcements. When a bigger truck arrived we used it to bust through the brush to get to the bull, and then to push away the 4 remaining animals. Our truck was not going to get that job done as its weight-to-buffalo ratio was far to low. Employment of it would have ended up looking like a drunk driving scare tactic display at a high school – with the two of us a permanent part of the wreckage!
Communication was now between 3 people: Myself, Christian, and Tonie, the safari manager.
My buffalo required a coup-de-grace shot, but I received an instruction no one prepared me for: “Get up on his spine!”. Christian was going to poke the buffalo in the eye to confirm death, and my assignment was to shoot the buffalo in the spine from point-blank range should the buffalo move! Tonie did a great job of shouting clear instructions to the two of us as we were exhausted and now 20 to 30-minutes into an adrenaline rush.
All told, the buffalo was shot 7 times (not counting the finishing shot). I hit it 4/9 from my 470 Nitro. Christian hit it 3/6 from his 375H&H. I was quite happy with how my body and mind reacted to this. I never felt fear or panic; I never got the shakes – just a hyper-focus on the task at hand. I knew exactly where Christian was and exactly where the animals were at all times – and I always knew my ammo status! I also confirmed in real time that turning your head does indeed break “tunnel vision”. I attribute my overall performance to two things:
1) I’ve been hunting for decades.
2) Between you, John Farnam, and club-level activities, I’ve trained to shoot, move, think, and communicate under stress.
As I found, chasing a wounded buffalo into the bush at night is most certainly “stress”!
~Andy
My Comments
Bravo, my friend! The local village eats for a month!
Pre WW2, America was a nation of hunters and farmers. Most of the population lived in rural areas, with only 20%, living in cities. The citizenry had a personal relationship with nature and their food sources. Our men were skilled at shooting, stalking, and tracking, as well as woodsmanship and bushcraft. They were tough, experienced warriors.
This played into our fiercely independent nature during the nation’s founding, as well as our reputation as fighters during military conflicts. Daniel Boone, Simon Kenton, Teddy Roosevelt, and Carlos Hathcock, are prime examples.
That has all changed!
80% of Americans live in cities, with only a percent (or two) of suburbanites growing so much as a single tomato plant. We’ve disconnected from two natures, the Earth’s and our own.
Small, local gun and archery shops are few and far in between – replaced by corporate chains that make their money selling designer outerwear and ATV’s, not 475 H&H Magnums. Compared to what it was late 1800’s-1960’s, the market for big game rifles is small enough to be designated non-existent.
Shooting and archery teams were once common place in our schools, and most young men were Scouts (when “Boy” was still part of the name.)
Hunting, in general, is now frowned upon, and practitioners of it are often berated and “canceled” by leftist do-gooders whose closest encounter with nature’s dangers consist of carpal tunnel from texting DoorDash.
Even less popular with the general public is African big game hunts. However, what’s not widely understood is that the permits for big game (elephant, lion, cape buffalo, etc…) are what pays for the preserves that secure the continuation of the species. Animals that are tagged for hunts are often those that are already slated for culling due to age or health. Meaning: “they are going kill them anyway, so we might as well charge a hunter $20,000 to do it.”
To paraphrase the late author John Ross: say what you want about hunting, but no one is going to pay $20,000 to take a picture of an elephant. Hunters are the real conservationists!
That being the case, even the most aged of African big game is still incredibly dangerous. Exposing oneself to them, even when properly armed, carries with it great risk. In fact, it’s law in all African nations that cater to foreign tourists that a licensed Professional Hunter (PH) be assigned to each. Over the past 200-years, countless wawindaji [hunters] have been killed by African big game, and usually by animals they just wounded…or, missed. The PH is there to limit novice mistakes, and make sure those made don’t end in death.
Friends I know who have taken the adventure to face the cape buffalo have returned as changed men. Changed in a way far different than those who jumped from a plane for the first time or climbed a mountain. They squared off and won against an adversary which possessed the power to kill them, and tried! There is now very little in life they’re rattled by. There’s a strength present, and a clam in their eyes that comes with being alive due to success in stopping a 2000lb, charging, horned beast with a top speed of 35mph.
To our ancestors, adventure was part of life. So much so that “death by misadventure” was common. Now, it’s bike helmets, automatic parallel parking, and airport body scanners. What have we allowed ourselves to become?
As a proponent of hot running water and electricity, I’m certainly made of softer stuff. I have hunted locally and I have taken game. I don’t find it enjoyable; I do find it necessary. It’s a task all who are able should experience at least once – even if it’s as simple as cleaning and eating a fish they caught.
Humans are predators. We have our eyes in the front of our skulls and incisors and cuspids for tearing meat. It’s how we’ve survived as a species. …until now. As a nation, we need to stir our warrior DNA back to the top.
Soy milk, avocado toast, and they/them pronouns will not be what saves us. Hardened men (and women) who take risks, welcome adversity, and refuse to entertain self-imposed weakness, are what will.
Some argue that vegans, new age-ers, and hippy-types are the most “in tune” with nature. The opposite is actually true. It’s the hunters, farmers, and (many times) the soldiers – the people who sleep on, spill blood for, and work, the soil. They understand the fragility and sanctity of life, and the true cost of living it. And, they fight for it.
Those are Americans not only in name, but in spirit.
~Frank
“Nothing dies of old age in Africa.” – Common saying on the continent
