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Table of Contents Part I The Theory and the Preparation Chapter 1 – The Dream Becomes the Reality Chapter 2 – The Florida Experience Chapter 3 – Psychology of One-Shot Hunting Chapter 5 – Evaluating the Proper Rifles Chapter 6 – Ethics, Sights, and Other Hunters Chapter 7 – The Right Bullet Chapter 8 – Rifle Selection versus Performance Chapter 9 – Books, Clothing, Finances, and Legalities Photos – Part I Part II The Hunt and the Reality Chapter 10 – Early Success and Adventure Chapter 11 – Kudu and an Afternoon’s Rest Chapter 12 – The Vanishing Blue Chapter 13 – Track of the Gemsbok Chapter 14 – Just a Simple Thing Chapter 15 – A Quick Trip to Etebenne and the Steenbok Chapter 16 – Doc’s Turn Photos- Part II Part III Reflections Chapter 17 – If I Were a Rich Man Give me the life of the pori (East Africa wilderness). I think it would be difficult to find another so full of wild, exhilarating excitement, hair-breath escapes, and devil-may-care risks, and the end is usually swift, perhaps that is better than flickering out slowly on a bed of sickness. If anyone has a desire to live, where living is really full-blooded living, let him go and spend some of his time among wild animal life—far away from the insidious comforts and the petty restraints of life in a civilized community.” Those are the words of Captain James H. Sutherland in his 1912 book, The Adventures of an Elephant Hunter. From 1896 until his death in 1932 Sutherland became, what many believe to be, the greatest professional African ivory hunter who ever lived. Nearly a hundred years after Sutherland wrote those romantic words, I went to the Dark Continent—for the excitement and the passion that he described so well. Modern South Africa has changed much over the last century and the early White hunters of Sutherland’s era would have trouble recognizing much of it today. But, on the open plains and bush of the backcountry—the old Africa can still be found—exhilarating, wild, dangerous, and beautiful. It is a place where modern man can still escape the petty restraints of life in a civilized community and engage in the hunt—the age-old pursuit of the dream—the chance to experience Sutherland’s “full-blooded living”—so far away from home—yet so very near the birthplace of mankind. And, I did it with black powder, muzzleloading rifles. The idea of hunting in Africa for most of us is little more than a dream. We read the books of Capstick, Ruark, Lyell, Roosevelt, “Pondoro” Taylor, Hunter, even more modern writers such as Boddington, and imagine what it would be like to stalk the Dark Continent for wild and dangerous game. Many have a collection of videos including The Ghost and the Darkness, Mountains of the Moon, I Dreamed of Africa, and the wonderful Out of Africa. We enjoy the stories and wish we were tramping through the forest and plains on a romantic safari adventure, but, in the real work-a-day world of the vast majority, such hunts are simply out of the question. Limited funds, job responsibilities, time constraints, and family commitments make such a notion of adventure on the far side of the globe impractical at best. Africa seems nothing more than a fantasy; a great unattainable dream within the grasp of only the wealthy or extremely fortunate. For the past seventeen years I have been actively involved in professional writing concentrating my efforts on education, Old West history, fiction, and hunting. Most of my outdoor writing has been centered on hunting with a muzzleloader. Although most of my income has been in the field of grant writing and administration my outdoor activities have been an excellent source of extra income and a wonderful outlet for someone who farmed and ranched for several years and thoroughly enjoys the outdoors. When I turned fifty I made a list of hunting trips I wanted to accomplish before I was too old to meet the physical challenges. That list includes an Alaskan brown bear and caribou hunt, a Rocky Mountain record book elk hunt, a New Mexico American pronghorn hunt, and a plains game safari in Africa. All of these goals are expensive and require planning to organize around job and family responsibilities. New Mexico, Wyoming, and Colorado are literally at my back door so I knew I could easily meet those goals. It is currently less expensive to go to Africa on the plains game hunt than to Alaska so I chose that as my first major goal. I had a two-year plan in place to go to Africa and was into serious investigation of locations, guns, loads, and game opportunities. Magazine writing has provided me with several opportunities to have experiences that might otherwise have not been possible. I have managed to form professional and personal attachments with people in the black powder industry. I stay in contact through the Internet and very rarely see them but I often ask for their advice and I enjoy hearing from them. One of those industry friends is Dr. Gary White of White Rifles, Lindon, Utah. Doc is a medical doctor who is also an avid hunter and muzzleloader enthusiast. He is the designer of the White rifle and supporting White Shooting System. I met Doc in the mid-nineties when the in-line muzzleloader rifle was becoming popular. I was assigned to a new and dynamic company, White Shooting Systems, by the editor of Blackpowder Hunting magazine. I have been a field editor for the magazine since its earliest years. Doc was the host on a company sponsored Florida turkey hunt to promote the introduction of White’s Tominator in-line muzzleloading shotgun. I liked him and enjoyed that trip. We hunted again in Texas a few weeks later for Rio Grande turkeys and feral hogs. I was introduced to the White system of muzzle loading and from my association with Doc and experience with other products, became convinced that it was one of the best in-lines on the market. I grew to view Doc as something of a mentor and have always valued his opinions. The company went through some rough times before Doc and I began hunting together again after a few years. We went to Florida where I functioned as his backup shooter to take a world record Indian River buffalo. We then went to Texas to hunt feral hogs, turkey, and javelina. I had just completed a manuscript on dangerous game hunting with a muzzleloader that featured some of the experiences I had with Doc on the Florida river buffalo hunt. I sent him a draft for review via the Internet to make certain I hadn’t misrepresented anything. Doc’s reply said simply “Good stuff, let’s go to Africa.” He went on to explain the circumstances and general expenses. There was nothing standing in my way except putting together several thousand dollars for trophy fees and some travel expenses. For the first time in my life, putting together that sum was not impossible. Experiencing the mystery and adventure of Africa was there for the taking and I was in a position to do it. Life is short and there were simply no excuses for not doing it. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, especially for someone who “has only failed in life” as the character Remington states in The Ghost and the Darkness. I was going to South Africa with powder and ball. I enjoy the history and the experience of hunting with old-time weapons. That is what attracted me to black powder hunting in the first place. Different models of muzzleloaders and historical replicas come and go at regular intervals as I am constantly testing and evaluating them. During my time writing about muzzleloaders for Rifle & Shotgun Sportshooting, I was able to test every muzzleloading in-line hunting rifle on the market. Other than a few elk, feral hog and black bear hunts in neighboring states of Colorado and Texas I have been primarily an upland game, turkey, varmint, and deer hunter. Although I have over twenty-five years of black powder experience and am a field editor for Blackpowder Hunting my hunting scope of reference is not as broad as many in the field. Still, I believe that I’m an expert in muzzleloaders—certainly proficient enough to separate legitimate advances in the sport from industry sales gimmicks. I often found myself hunting with a different gun just about every weekend during hunting season to meet magazine commitments but the game was generally the same and the experiences are similar. The few elk and black bear I’ve shot reacted pretty much the same way as deer. Only while hunting feral hogs did I run into situations that even approximated dangerous game conditions. But, generally, I was not in a financial position to take serious dangerous game hunts. The Florida hunt completely changed my perspective and convinced me of some reservations that I was having about recent directions being taken by the muzzleloading industry. It is important to include those thoughts in this text to give you an idea of my opinions of big game muzzleloader hunting at the time of my invitation. Even in early April the swampy atmosphere of thick tangles bordering Lake Okeechobee made it difficult to keep my shooting glasses from fogging over with even the slightest exercise. Perspiration dripped from my cap band and my shirt was wet under the small backpack I was wearing. Three of us were working our way along a shallow hyacinth choked canal stepping through scattered clusters of myrtle bushes overlooking a low, open marsh carpeted with colorful stands of flags, maiden cane, and switch grass. I was last in line behind our guide, Joe O’Bannon of J & R Outfitters, and Doc White. We were eager to test a new muzzleloader projectile developed by White Rifles on a trophy Asian water buffalo. As is customary when hunting dangerous game with a muzzleloading rifle, I was present as Doc’s backup shooter. I consider it a station of some honor. Chances were that I would never have to pull the trigger and Doc would do all the shooting but one can never be sure with a single shot muzzleloader. If you don’t have the privilege or the resources to be the primary shooter on such a hunt, being the backup shooter is the next best thing. There are simply too many variables when hunting with percussion cap, powder, and ball for anyone to be entirely comfortable with a muzzleloader in a dangerous game situation. The life of a friend could be in my hands if events turned sour and I took the task very seriously. I would have been even more concerned if I had had any idea of how tough and potentially dangerous these beasts turned out to be. The black form of a large bull loomed amidst thick clumps of myrtle forty yards before us. Joe and Doc hesitated and waited for the bull to step into the open so they could decide whether he was large enough for an attempt. Joe carried a vintage Rigby double rifle in .470 Nitro Express and Doc was holding his .50 caliber White Elite loaded with 140 grains of Pyrodex P and an experimental 600-grain conical variation of the new SCB (self-cleaning bullet) Power Punch projectile. The SCB was a copper-based bullet that not only loaded easily, protected the sides from gas cutting, evened pressure curves and enhanced accuracy, but also helped clean the barrel with the shot. I waited a few steps back with my Model 91 White Super Safari loaded with the same projectile and a powder charge of 120 grains of Pyrodex Select. I was reluctant to crowd them and be under foot as they made their determination. I heard a sound to my right and looked toward another bull materializing from the brush at forty yards. As I slowly turned and released the secondary safety of my rifle, I sensed a presence behind me. Still another large bull stepped over a canal ridge behind us at fifty yards. He was a four or five year old, watching us closely, nodding and rocking his horns menacingly. O’Bannon had warned us to be careful with this age beast as they were more aggressive and confrontational than older, wiser bulls. I slipped the primary safety off and raised my gun, my back turned toward the other hunters. Chances were that he would not charge—that he would suddenly, impulsively, turn tail and retreat into the thick cover—but you can never be entirely sure. For a few minutes it was an exciting potential confrontation and one of my finest hunting experiences to date. The herd we were pursuing consisted of a couple of hundred bachelor bulls including the Asian swamp, Indian River, and Trinidad island or buffalipso sub-species maintained on the 4,000 acre J & R Outfitter lease near Indiantown, Florida. These bulls are not like some cud chewing, car watching, African buffalos often photographed on Kruger National Park in South Africa or the semi-domestic American bison that wonder off the protected acres of Yellowstone and are easily approached in a pickup truck. These were hunt-wise creatures that react exactly like descriptions I’ve read in journal entries by Capstick, Baker and Taylor describing African buffalo. They were wary and suspicious, even when in a large herd. They consistently maintained a 120-yard or greater gap between us when they knew we were present and like the journals describe, the older more mature bulls gather in the middle allowing younger less experienced bulls to stand exposed at the outside edge. The only times we could get nearer was when we approached from downwind using thick cover to mask our presence. Getting close to any bull was difficult and it was tougher still to stalk within muzzleloader range of a mature trophy bull of six to eight years of age. For animals weighing between 2,000 and 2,600 pounds, I felt we had to be within sixty yards to make a clean kill. Doc, a much more experienced big game black powder hunter, felt that a hundred yards was not unreasonable. He has taken Cape buffalo in Africa weighing in the neighborhood of 1,600 pounds using his rifles. I kept thinking of John “Pondoro” Taylor’s statement concerning taking large, dangerous game in Big Game and Big Game Rifles: “Get as close as possible, then ten yards closer.” And even Doc was surprised at how large and imposing these Florida buffalo were. J & R Outfitters is run by Joe and Liz O’Bannon. Joe is an experienced African guide and usually spends a few months each year on the Dark Continent outfitting safaris. All game on the ranch is hunted on foot in a fair chase setting. The place is large enough that game must be located after some effort. The entire setting makes for a challenging and exciting hunt in a natural setting of expansive and unpredictable locales varying from thick swampy forests to open savannah. Our first day of hunting was spent unsuccessfully trying to stalk the wary herd and checking out some individual bulls in the swampy low lands. Doc and Joe passed on the buffalo hidden in the myrtles and after a few moments, his curiosity satisfied, my buffalo slipped back into the canal and out of sight. We worked the rest of the morning trying to spot some trophy bulls. We spotted a couple of exceptional Indian River buffalo bulls in the herd when watching them on open savannah of Argentine Bahia grass cleared from swamp brush. A cold front was moving in and the wind was rising as we returned to the hunt that afternoon. By mid-afternoon the wind was averaging gusts of over twenty miles per hour in an uneven pattern—not the best circumstances for any long-range shot, especially at such large and potentially dangerous game. We found our trophy bulls grazing near a canal and took up a position in a palmetto grove on the far bank, hoping the bulls would drift close enough for a reasonable shot. As time passed they slowly edged within range. Doc finally made the decision to advance twenty yards to a few small saplings lined against the canal and try for a shot if the bulls came closer. There was barely room for Joe and Doc to risk exposure so I held back in the palmettos. As Doc braced his scope-mounted muzzleloader against the small tree and waited, I used my Bushnell range finder to measure a distance of 120 yards to the bulls with Doc twenty yards closer than I. A pair of five-year-old bulls to the east approached the hunters as they stepped from a ditch near the canal. The lead bull, no more than fifty yards away, took a confrontational pose as he stepped slowly forward toward Joe and Doc. I set down my range finder, lifted my rifle, set off the safeties, and placed the front blade sight through my rear peep on his shoulder. Again, I figured he would back off as had the bull earlier but the uncertainty of the situation kept me vigilant. As the trophy bulls slowly closed the distance, the wind gusts increased and intensified. Low rolling clouds darkened and brightened the surrounding landscape as they quickly passed overhead. The bulls held up at 88 yards and seemed to be preparing to drift away. I could tell that Doc was seriously considering taking a shot… a shot that I, frankly, might have passed on. We had no idea of what the soft lead SCB projectile would do on such a large beast at that range and I was uncomfortable with the gusty conditions. It was one thing to try a shot at an elk under those conditions but these buffalo bulls would easily make up three large trophy bull elk, had significantly heavier muscle and bone structure, and were historically much more aggressive. I found myself vicariously tensing to help steady Doc’s shot. The impact of the projectile was unlike anything I had ever heard before—not the familiar thud or whomp—but a sharp cracking sound as of something snapping a pine two-by-four board. The big bull jolted and the entire group broke away at a dead run toward a cluster of myrtles a couple of hundred yards to the south. Joe seemed pleased with Doc’s shot and reported that the bullet had hit about four inches to the right of the area considered optimal for a clean kill. He saw significant quantities of blood spurt from the wound as the bull angled away. I felt that it was an excellent shot considering the conditions. When Doc expressed concern that the bull did not go down, Joe stated that he had never seen a big bull go down with one shot from any rifle. They were just too tough for that. Still, he figured that we would find Doc’s bull within a reasonable distance. As he went for the truck Doc and I waited, discussed the shooting conditions and the reaction of the bull. Being totally inexperienced with shooting anything of this bull’s size with a muzzleloading rifle, I had soaked up the animal’s reaction and I visually replayed the experience several times over the following days. Both of us have shot clear through elk lengthwise with this size round and had them collapse where they stood… but this bull reacted to the shot more like a large whitetail or mule deer would to a light round ball load at similar distance. It was disconcerting that such raw power from a well-placed round had such little initial visual effect. This hunt was far from over and until we examined the carcass we had no way of knowing how much tissue damage had actually taken place. For all we knew the massive bone structure of the bull may have totally circumvented the effects of the projectile. We may have accomplished little more than angering him. I found myself second guessing Joe as he started trailing the buffalo. After years of hunting I have habitually gone to the point of impact, located the blood sign, and followed from there in similar situations. I have developed the opinion, rightly or wrongly, that there is a certain way of doing some things and have especially strong beliefs about the best method of trailing wounded game. Joe bypassed that site and went to edge of the myrtles to begin his search. I told myself that he had much more experience hunting these bulls in this area. It was one of those times when I had to keep telling myself to keep my mouth shut and follow directions in spite of some misgivings. It was clear that Joe was uncomfortable with following sign into the thick stands of myrtles. There was virtually no blood trail and he wasn’t surprised by it. The big bulls seem to soak up such chest hits and the wound quickly seals off unlike lighter boned elk or deer. Joe carefully stuck two extra Nitro Express cartridges between the second and third fingers of his forearm hand in case he needed to quickly recharge his rifle. He led the way and somewhat forcefully directed us to follow at a specific distance. I could tell that he was in that uniquely dangerous situation that I had read about other big game guides—a wounded dangerous quarry in unknown condition waiting before him and unfamiliar hunters with loaded guns following closely behind. No matter how much experience Doc and I said we had, he couldn’t be certain, and as with any truly dangerous situation with unfamiliar hunting partners, he had no way of knowing whether he might be charged from any direction by the bull or accidentally shot from behind by his clients. For the next hour, as we worked south following sign, I figured I was in as dangerous a hunting situation as I had ever been. The potential for disaster loomed at every twist and turn of the trail. One could hardly fault Joe for being short spoken and apprehensive. As sunset loomed we reached an especially thick stand of palmettos and brush. Joe instructed us to wait behind stating that it was just too close for three to negotiate together through the brambles. I didn’t want him to go in there alone but by the same token it was no time to argue or balk. It is the custom for the professional to take such risks. The best thing I could do was to follow his instructions to the letter. Any other course would be foolish. Night fell with no results and Joe returned stating that we would resume the search in the morning. Early the following day, we set out with an extra man and four cur dogs to sort out the thick stuff. The dogs flushed four bulls from the myrtle swamps and on each occasion the fight was on. None of them was our bull. During one altercation a young bull tested the reverse speed of the tiny Toyota open-topped truck that we were using. After a hundred yards or so he broke off his charge and plunged into a canal with the dogs in hot pursuit. It was great fun but accomplished little other than allowing us to rule out certain thickets where the bull might be located. We even found a large herd of bulls and checked them out in case our bull might have rejoined them, but with no luck. Joe ordered up a swamp crusher, a large, flat decked, four-wheel tractor nearly nine feet in height, to wade into especially thick brush to continue our search. I was reminded of nineteenth century Indian tiger hunts from elephants as we crashed and rambled over woods that were almost impenetrable for a man on foot. We located our buffalo standing alone belly deep in the river around two that afternoon. He had traveled nearly two miles from the original shot. At sixty yards Doc scored a perfect hit just behind the shoulder, noticeably staggering the brute. I did not shoot, feeling that Doc’s round had put the final end to this magnificent beast. We watched him settle into the water. Joe placed a couple of .470s in him for extra insurance before we approached any closer. We drove the swamp buggy forward to retrieve the carcass. We tied him behind the crusher and dragged him to dry land where his carcass could be loaded on a trailer. He weighed over 2,300 pounds and his horns measured 101 inches, easily having the potential of being a world’s record Indian River buffalo taken with a muzzleloader by nearly twenty inches. He should score as the number one buffalo by quite a margin in the Safari Club International record book. Doc’s first bullet had passed through both lungs and lodged against the rig cage on the far side. The big soft lead projectile had mushroomed nicely and held together in good form. The copper base was still firmly in place. Joe’s .470 solid had passed along the shoulder bone and was lodged in the brisket, badly distorted. His other bullet had deflected off the horn. It was obvious to me that he was going for a neck shot and missed his target. We did not recover the other. Doc determined from the experience that even though the Power Punch bullet had performed very well, he needed to begin development of a solid of at least 500 grains housed in a sabot that could be fired from a muzzleloader for similar dangerous game hunts. This is the kind of research that is necessary to produce as good a muzzleloading projectile as is possible. From what I could see in this one instance, Doc’s shot placement being far superior to Joe’s, the .504 muzzleloader was more effective than the .470 Nitro Express. This is not a unique experience. I can say the same of close range elk, bears, and feral hogs. Big bore lead conicals are highly effective on game inside of one hundred yards. I’ve witnessed many guides and experienced hunters familiar with large caliber smokeless powder rounds shake their heads and comment on the awesome performance of black powder rounds at close range on large game. As for me, even though it was not my buffalo, I was thrilled by the adventure and felt that I had earned my share of the trophy. It was one of the finest hunting experiences I have ever encountered and only whetted my appetite for more.
Part I
The Theory and the Preparation
Chapter 1 – The Dream Becomes the Reality
Chapter 2 – The Florida Experience