Seasoned hunter and author Dr. Mike Arnold shares his tale of shooting a crocodile on Lake Massingir…from a boat… Let's see how it went!

“Stop laughing,” I muttered at Frances while laying down in the mud next to the 14-foot crocodile. My wife’s mirth at my expense resulted from my Professional Hunter, Dylan Holmes’ suggestion that the best way of demonstrating the size of the crocodile I just shot on Lake Massingir would come by my reclining next to him. According to his plan, my six-foot frame would have giant lizard poking out for a long way beyond my head and feet, thus indicating that the animal was frickin’ huge. When Dylan made his suggestion, I asked if he meant in the lake’s crocodile and hippo infested waters. His hesitation, and contemplation, of my quip was hurtful, as was Frances’ enjoyment of my ‘glamour shot’.

A previous article for The Hole Story described my preparation for this watershed moment in my hunting career. As usual, Seth Swerczek, made great suggestions and sent two appropriate loads for me to try out for the hunt. These included Hornady’s .300 Winchester Magnum Precision Hunter — 200gr ELDx and Outfitter — 180gr CX cartridges. This ammunition was for a Blaser R8 Ultimate with muzzle brake and recoil reduction pad topped with a Blaser B2 3–18x50 iC QDC+ riflescope with QD Saddle Mount. I decided on the ELDx-topped loads, but both ammunitions gave great results.

I practiced for weeks at the range, shooting mostly from my standing, 4StableSticks rest. I fired round-after-round at distances up to 200-yards, convinced there was no way I would attempt a shot at the orange-sized (maybe lemon-sized!!) target that is a crocodile’s spine, past 50-yards. As explained in the previous article, I wanted the skull as a trophy and thus wanted to avoid blowing it apart with a brain shot — that still begged the question of whether I could hit either the spine or brain of these giant reptiles.

In late May 2025 we arrived at the Massingir Safaris camp located a five-hour drive from Maputo, Mozambique, and rock-throwing distance from South Africa’s Kruger National Park, and Limpopo National Park in Mozambique. Heading immediately to their ‘range’, a.k.a. grass runway for helicopters and light, fixed-wing aircraft, we checked the sights on the Blaser R8. It still grouped the 200-grain ELDx bullets 1.5 inches high at 100-yards, with the two holes from the rounds fired nearly touching. Though encouraged by the accuracy of the ammunition + rifle combination, it also meant there would be no excuse if I messed up on a target at the expected 25–50-yard distance.

Though owned by Massingir Safaris, Zambeze Delta Safaris directs the hunting on the property on which we stayed, and on nearby Lake Massingir. The property and lake each featured in our hunting. The former was the site for collecting one of my long-held hunting goals, a Spotted hyena, with the lake harboring the other, a Nile crocodile. Just before our flight to Johannesburg Mark Haldane sent a drone video from Lake Massingir’s shoreline. As the drone zipped over the land, a myriad of startled crocodiles scrambled from their sunning spots and into the water. The video made me both excited and very nervous. I whined internally “Why, oh why, on a 1000–1500-pound animal was the ‘vital area’ the size of the brain on a poodle?!”

The first three days of our four-day hunt for the crocodile involved scouting for a bait and blind site (day 1) and then sitting in the blind, waiting for crocodiles and praying for a shot at one 12–15-feet in length (days 2 and 3). Though suitable crocodiles came in on our first day in the blind, animals that made the entire shoreline explode as they tore the bait (my hyena carcass taken the first night in camp and the head from a Blue wildebeest) into chunks that they swallowed, we never had a shot presentation in which the crocodiles were at least partially on shore. Taking a shot on a floating animal guarantees loss of the crocodile when they sink. As we watched the feeding frenzy Dylan and our Tracker Albiñio explained in no uncertain terms that “We have no intention of diving for a sunken crocodile in that water!” I couldn’t blame them. No tip is worth turning into the next crocodile bait.

Our second day in the blind, we sat for seven hours with no visits by the reptile version of piranhas. This left Dylan and Albiñio with a decision on how we would hunt for a crocodile on the final day. A major factor limiting opportunities at the giant lizards at this time, on Lake Massingir, was an unusually high-water level. With the water covering many small islands normally present in the lake, and also creeping up the lake’s shoreline, there were very few areas on which the crocodiles could sun themselves. This meant our bait + blind site used the first two days was the sole area for such a setup. With that in mind, we abandoned blind sitting and headed out mid-morning of our last hunting day in a 12-foot aluminum boat powered by an outboard motor. As we churned away from the boat launch at one end of Lake Massingir, I wondered if this last-ditch effort had any likelihood of success.

Lake Massingir fits the description of ‘infested’ when discussing crocodiles. As we motored slowly, studying each of the few, open shorelines with our optics, we were never out of sight of either swimming, or occasionally, sunning animals. The problem of course was finding a large crocodile situated in a position where we could land the boat out of sight and spot-and-stalk into a firing position. We located such an animal once, but when nearly in position for a shot, an unseen, smaller crocodile blew through the reeds taking the large crocodile with it.

Stopping for lunch, Dylan and Albiñio left Frances and me chewing on our sandwiches and fruit while they scouted the headland on which we rested. Returning without a crocodile sighting, we all loaded back into the boat for the final few miles of motoring back to the launch site. There were a series of bays into which we slowly drifted while we all used binoculars, scanning intently for signs of a sunbathing reptile large enough for an attempt. Unfortunately, no such trophy presented itself. That is until we motored into the last alcove before reaching the landing for our boat.

Frances and I were both looking down, organizing our equipment for alighting from the boat when Dylan, binocular-rangefinder stuck to his eyes, whispered, “There’s a crocodile on that shore.” I glanced toward the spot indicated and my breath caught in my chest. Jack O’Connor said it well, “The big ones look big.” The animal situated some 200-yards across the bay looked like something out of Jurassic Park. I knew I’d not seen an animal this large on our hunt. My experience, of course, was very limited, but he looked huge without me looking through my Vortex binocular-rangefinder, and I stated as much to my PH. “Yes, he is very big” was his reply. He followed with, “Unfortunately, there is no way to stalk him.” My heart sank, but then I suggested, “How about you guys paddle toward him, and let’s see how close we can get before he slides into the water.”

Neither Dylan nor I expected (or wanted!) me taking a shot from a non-stable platform, like a boat. However, just in case, as they paddled toward shore, Dylan had me set up a rest across the bow consisting of a lifejacket and Frances’ pack, with other lifejackets protecting my knees from the boat’s metal bottom. As I crouched, I kept ranging the crocodile, watching the red, digital numbers decrease from 175-, to 155-, to 135-, and finally come to rest on 101-yards. Dylan and Albiñio shipped their paddles, and my PH leaned forward and asked the question I dreaded: “Can you make this shot?” I probably looked like I’d swallowed something bitter when I tried to grin, answering, “If no one breathes, I think it’ll be stable enough.”

Settling into the rest, slowing my breath, remembering Dylan’s instruction on the aiming point for the spine shot — two inches behind the end of the smile, and in the center (top-down) of the body — I focused on the crosshairs. I didn’t hear or feel the shot, but with the muzzle brake, I watched the crocodile’s head lift up and slap back down onto the ground and saw its tail lashing the water at lake’s edge. “Shoot him in the shoulder!” Dylan nearly shouted. Taking aim again, I watched as the bullet indented the muscular shoulder area. The echo from the second shot still bounced over the water when I felt the boat surge forward, with the motor’s not inconsequential noise finally making its way into my consciousness.

Upon beaching the boat, Dylan and Albiñio quickly jumped onto shore, thick ropes in hand. Just as quickly they worked as a team, lashing the animal to nearby trees. Though no movement resulted when Dylan touched the lidded eyes, the animal’s lungs continued drawing in air, and the back legs contracted. Dylan looked at me, removed his hat, grinned broadly and extended his hand. “Congratulations, you made a tough shot!” I grinned back, and then looked back at the enormous lizard with its lungs still pumping and asked, “Is he dead?” “Yes,” was the immediate reply. “No eye movement means the animal is dead, but their nervous system can still respond to touch. That is why we lashed him down. It keeps the remaining body movements from sliding him into the water.”

Measuring the crocodile from tip of snout to tip of tail found him to be a ‘14-footer’. (For full disclosure, he measured 13 ft, 10½ inches.) He was, in the words of Craig Boddington, when he looked at a photograph I sent, “A fatty!” Estimated weight of the huge animal was ~1500 pounds. Since I wanted the skull alone as a trophy, and local farmers and fishermen wanted the 600-pounds or so of meat, PH and Tracker removed the head and loaded it into the boat.

As we motored slowly back to the launch area left some eight hours earlier, I realized I’d violated two strongly held decisions made before the safari. 1) I would not shoot at the lemon-sized spine on a crocodile from a distance of more than 50-yards, and 2) never from anything but a rock-solid rest. I sighed, and muttered to myself, “Well, OK, surely, never again!”

Author profile

Mike Arnold is professor and Head of the Department of Genetics at the University of Georgia and author of the 2022 book, BRINGING BACK THE LIONS: International Hunters, Local Tribespeople, and the Miraculous Rescue of a Doomed Ecosystem in Mozambique. Mike’s newest book, BRINGING BACK THE WILD — Stories from Revitalized Ecosystems Around the World and How Sport Hunting Supports Them, appears July 2025. You can find a description of Mike’s travels, talks, articles, and books at mikearnoldoutdoors.com.