“Gentlemen please get your rifles, some extra cartridges and let us go make certain your Ruger rifles are still properly sighted in. Your trip from Texas to Uganda was a long one and while I suspect they are still properly sighted in, we had better make certain. Be prepared to hunt afterwards. As you saw coming in there are many buffalo in this area. The herd we saw driving to camp holds about 1,600…” Suggested Christian Weth, our Professional Hunter and one of the primaries in Uganda Wildlife Safaris.

Upon arrival to camp, Tim Fallon and I had stowed our gear in comfortable tents. Then we headed to the thatched roof an open sided “mess tent”. There we met the two other Professional Hunters who would be with us during our safari across Uganda, Scotty Guthrie and the legendary Dougie Stephenson. Over a strong, delicious cup of coffee we talked about what we should expect hunting Nile buffalo in the region made famous by “Karamojo” Bell, the famous elephant hunter.

Tim and I grabbed our 375 Ruger rifles and headed to back to the mess hall. While pouring coffee, Dougie Stephenson spoke. “Nile buffalo aren’t that different from southern Cape buffalo, other than they tend to be a little smaller and their horns normally don’t droop down as far as do those of the Cape buffalo. Otherwise they are just as tenacious and potentially dangerous as any of the buffalo. We are in no hurry to shoot buffalo, however the sooner you take your bulls, the sooner we can move on to the next camp where we’ll hunt sitatunga. We should see numerous bulls each time we go out. We’ll hunt only older bulls. This area has received very little hunting pressure and there are many older “dugga bulls”. We’ll likely see small herds of them. I’d suggest we look for a bull with wide bosses and good spread. We should see bulls in the high 30s and we have seen several that approach 40 inches and beyond.”

“My widest buffalo is about 39 inches, a Cape buffalo I shot in the Caprivi Strip hunting with Omujeve Safaris a couple of years ago. I would really like to take one that is that wide or wider if possible.” I added.

“We will do our best!” said Christian. “As soon as you finish your coffee, we will go shoot your rifles.” I took my last swallow, grabbed my backpack which held my Zeiss binoculars, my camera, and an extra box of Hornady 300 grain mixed DGX and DGS. My intentions were to shoot my first shot using a soft then follow up with two solids. As soon as I crawled on the back of the Rover I loaded my cartridge belt with an equal number of solids and softs. I glanced over at Tim, who was smiling broadly.

A half mile from camp we saw our first buffalo, two cows and a calf, then more cows and some young soft-bossed bulls. Another mile and we saw our first mature bull. He was by himself about 200 yards off of the two track we were on. We stopped to get a better look. “He’s good, but not great” spoke Christian as he lowered his binoculars. “He’s got good mass, but he’s only about 32 or 33 inches wide. I know we can do better.” Then with a grin he said, “Besides you have not yet even made certain your rifle is properly sighted in.”

“I’m liking this! He does have massive, solid bosses.” Tim continued, “Christian I’m not looking for the biggest Nile buffalo in Uganda, I’m simply looking for a good representative mature bull. If you tell me to shoot, I’ll do so. I know Larry needs to look at several bulls to get the footage he needs for the show (referring to my “DSC’s Trailing the Hunter’s Moon” which appears year around on Sportsman Channel) and he’s going to be a bit pickier than me before pulling the trigger.”

Christian nodded approvingly.

We had driven about five miles when Christian told the driver to turn to the right, down a brushy narrow lane. We had gone 300 yards when off to the right we saw three buffalo. A quick tap on the Rover’s roof. We stopped, binoculars immediately trained on the bulls. All three were obviously old, evidenced by highly polished horns with solid bosses and big bodies. “Far right, best bull. Good bull!” said Dougie, “One of you should take him.”

“Tim he’s yours. We have got to get a lot of footage and this one is happening way too fast for what we’re needing.” My hunting partner started to argue, and I simply shook my head.

Tim finally grabbed his rifle, crawled down from the vehicle, and loaded a round. As he did Christian and his trackers grabbed our two shooting sticks and as soon as the bull turned, they followed. I lagged behind, but also made certain my rifle was loaded, just in case Tim might need help.

The trio followed the bull for about 50 yards. There he stopped and turned broadside about 40 yards away. Up went the shooting sticks, one set held the rifle, the second was arranged so it supported Tim’s right elbow for a truly rock solid rest.

At the shot the bull turned. As he did Tim hit him with another round. The bull did not show any reaction. Then as he stepped forward he stumbled and fell. Tim’s bull was down. We quickly moved forward and Tim put an insurance shot into the bull’s massive neck.

He was gorgeous if buffalo can indeed be so. I think they can! His horns were polished to an almost mirror finish and were about 36 inches wide with well-worn bosses.

After hearty congratulation, a few finishing touches for the show and numerous photos, we loaded Tim’s bull and continued on to the rifle range. Obviously Tim’s rifle was dead on, but he shot it again to be certain. I shot mine. It too, was dead on. Both were sighted in for 75 yards.

Later that afternoon we spotted three older bulls nearly a mile away across an open pan. One looked like he was easily 38 to 40 inches wide with broad, solid bosses. We started angling toward them in the vehicle to cut the distance to about a half mile. There we stopped and continued on foot, taking advantage of any and all cover, as well as a couple of rills which helped hide us. The buffalo fed away from us as we walked. After about 30 minutes of careful maneuvering we were within 200 yards of the bulls. “Larry, the one in the middle is the best, he’s right at 40 inches wide, and there’s no doubt he’s ancient. You can tell by the way the sun is glinting off of the top of his horns. They are truly finely polished. Let us see if we can cut the distance for a shot.” Suggested Christian.

I looked over my shoulder at the cameraman and questioned, “How’s the light? How much time do we have left?”

He replied we had 30 to 40 minutes before we would be out of camera light. We moved slowly and cautiously in single file towards the buffalo. Within 10 minutes we had cut the distance to about 100 yards.

Suddenly I felt a slight breeze on the back of my neck, blowing directly to the bulls. Immediately the bulls started trotting away. There was no way we were going to be able to catch up with them!

Back at camp Dougie showed us the os cordis bone which is found in a buffalo’s heart, unique to the Cape buffalo clan. Reportedly this bone within the heart muscles helps buffalo deal with stress and is likely one of the reasons it can sometimes be difficult to bring down an old bull.

That night I slept soundly but morning’s pre-dawn came way to soon. As I was dressing for the day I could smell the campfire’s smoke, and the alluring aroma of hot coffee. “Today we go to the edge of the mountains. Tomorrow or the next day we will go to another area a long way from camp, where there are numerous waterholes. It has been said there are numerous dugga boys watering at first light. Today we want to do a bit of exploring. We’ll leave right after breakfast.” 30 minutes later we were on our way.

The sun had just peaked over the distant hills when we spotted buffalo. We stopped the vehicle and headed in their direction. Soon we were within 100 yards carefully glassing each one. “Cow… young bull… outstanding young herd bull.” I heard Scotty say. “On the far right, he’ll easily go 41 or 42, but his bosses are not yet hardened. He will be quite a bull in another two or so years!” I nodded in agreement. Secretly I wish the bull’s bosses were solid. Had they been, I would have been wanting to shoot but I had no desire to shoot a young, soft-bossed bull, no matter how wide or big he was.

As the morning wore on we saw other buffalo and got close to them. Mid-morning we nearly walked into a herd of about 35 or 40, including good young herd bulls. Mid-afternoon we found two bulls, both ancient with massive bosses and relatively wide horns. We stalked to within about 35 yards. Problem was, they were behind a screening of dense brush and there simply was no chance for a killing shot. Finally the bull on the right moved to his right. When he did we belly crawled to get into position to shoot. Slowly we set up the shooting sticks for a shot. Just as I was about to get into position I felt the wind switch from in our face to from our back. Immediately the bulls stampeded away. Even though hunting pressure had been and was very light, the buffalo knew what the scent of man meant.

Late that afternoon after an unsuccessful stalk on a single buffalo bull which was ruined by us surprising a small herd of waterbuck, we were walking in a circuitous route back to where we had left our vehicle. We stopped to glass a distant hillside. It was covered with buffalo. Quickly we made our way towards the herd. The wind remained in our faces. A few minutes of fast walking and we were within less than 75 yards of the herd which was feeding in our direction. The tracker set up my shooting sticks, just in case. All 121 of them fed our way. In the herd were six extremely wide and massive bulls, each of those six was easily 40 to 43 inches wide, but not unlike many herd bulls these bulls did not have completely hardened or solid bosses. We watched and waited anxiously as they fed past us. The closest passed within less than ten yards of the tree we were secreted behind. Exciting!

That night around the campfire Dougie regaled us of stories of the days when 100-pound elephants were not that rare. I hated going to bed, but the day had been long, and during a quiet moment Christian announced we would be getting up well before daylight so we could get to the distant waterholes, before the buffalo headed back to the brush.

“Drink up and let us go find you a buffalo” said Christian from the other side of the pre-dawn campfire. We were on our way long before there was a hint of orange in the east. “We should be just shy of the waterholes by good light.” On route, I thought seriously of napping, but I was afraid I might miss something.

Grudgingly dark turned to light. We stopped the vehicle and took off on foot. A quarter mile into our walk, our tracker pointed toward the grassy area just ahead. I could see 13 big dark bodies. Christian turned and smiled, then started glassing as did I. Having hunted buffalo several times before it was easy to tell all were bulls and all were old. Two had broken horns. I quickly dismissed those and concentrated of the remaining 11. I watched as the various bulls raised their heads moving about to graze. Three bulls caught my attention, one with wide bosses and two with spreads that were approaching 40 inches wide. Of the two, one had more massive horns and was missing a small chip from his boss. “That’s the one.” I whispered, more to myself than those around me.

“Agreed…” I heard Christian say. The bulls were spread out over about 50 yards and 200 yards away. Slowly we made our approach using every bit of low cover possible, all the while paying attention to the wind which was quartering from the buffalo toward us. At 100 yards we ran out of any cover taller than waist high. There we dropped to our knees and started crawling.

My bull was in the back of the herd, shielded by several others. We crawled closer. At about 35 yards we set up the shooting sticks low, so I would just be shooting above the grass. But there was no shot. I waited and waited. There was no way to put a shot into the bull’s vitals. I looked slightly to my left at my second-choice bull. He was facing away from us. I caught movement to the right, my bull started feeding in our direction. Slowly he moved ahead of the bull which had shielded him, quartering toward us. “Soon as he gives me a clear shot, I’m going to take him” I whispered loud enough for both Christian and Tim who were immediately behind me to my left and right, to hear.

The bull turned and offered a shot. The Zeiss crosshairs were where the bullet should go, through his heart and lungs. I let out all my breath as I had learned at the FTW’s S.A.A.M. training, made certain the crosshairs were solidly on target and then gently pulled the trigger. At the shot the bull rocked backwards, then turned to run with the other 12. As soon as I pulled the trigger, I bolted in a fresh round. As the bull ran, I waited for him to be clear of the rest, then shot a second time hitting him in the hip. Before I could get a third round into him he and the others were gone, disappearing into dense low brush.

“You hit him hard both times. He should not go far.” Said Christian as I put two more rounds into my rifle. “We’ll look for blood, then follow the spoor. Be ready!”

Just past where he had stood when I shot we picked up the first blood. We moved cautiously forward. While the trackers watched the ground, we followed watching ahead and all around us for any movement or dark colored object. We followed the spoor until it went into a dense thicket. There Christian asked his trackers to crawl up a tree to see if he could see my buffalo.

No sooner had he gotten off the ground than he started pointing. The tracker said something I didn’t understand. “25 yards straight ahead and slightly right. He is lying down, facing away.” We slowly eased toward where the bull lay. I spotted him and took three steps to my right and shot him in the shoulder. Then as quickly as I could I put two more shots into him, and a fourth in his backside he ran. I reached down to my cartridge belt and reloaded my rifle.

I saw the bull go down but waited for Christian, Tim and Scotty who had joined us. The trackers lead the way.

We found the bull where he had gone down. We approached from the bull’s backside. I quickly put a solid into his neck.

Kneeling by my bull’s side I said a prayer of thanks, then slowly ran my hand over the bull’s horns. I could not have been more pleased, thrilled or proud, but also a bit sad. My buffalo hunt in Uganda was finished. I accepted extended hands of congratulations.

We completed all we needed for the show, then took numerous photos. Once finished we loaded my buffalo to take it to a local village where all of it would be used. Before leaving the grateful villagers, we took a portion of the loin and the heart, as well as the head and cape. Dougie had promised to prepare as special dish from my buffalo’s heat, after he removed the os cordis bone.

That night in camp we enjoyed a fabulous meal of buffalo fillet and heart. The morrow we headed to Uganda Wildlife Safari’s sitatunga camp on the Kafu River.

Photo credit: Larry Weishuhn Outdoors