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Diary of an Africa Safari to Zambia Day 5 - 8, by Mr. Leslie E. Tassell

In memoriam  Mr. Leslie E. Tassell  02 Feb 1908- 19 Mar 2004

DAY 5 - 8    (Summer 1982) DAY 5 -In the morning we leave Bilili camp and head for Mulobezi, about 80 miles distant. Arrive in the afternoon and kill a hartebeest. Put out three leopard baits and returned to camp at dark. DAY 6 - Up at 4 am. Long way to the area we want. Saw a nice small herd of zebra. Started to stalk but they saw us and made off into the bush. While returning from the zebra, we saw a nice herd of eland at the other end of the dambo. They were moving toward us so we hid by a very small shrub and remained motionless. Lead bull passes on about 40 yards from our hiding place.  We hardly breath, we were so motionless. Let about eight of the eland pass by, then a big gray eland bull.

Shame pointed to him with his eyes, as I could not see his approach. When he came abreast of me, I drew a bead on his shoulder and shot. The herd takes off and I follow with another shot that puts him down. Both shots were fatal in the shoulder. Boy, what a job skinning out a 2,000 pound animal and cutting him up to get him in the hunting car. It took John and two trackers three hours of hard work.

John said in this area on the safari before us, they had a tracker killed by an elephant. Apparently they were watching some kudu from the hunting car when some elephant approached from the opposite direction and when they were within 100 yards, a cow charged the hunting car, but ran so quietly they did not hear her. She came upon them and pulled a tracker out of the car, threw him on the ground and ran her tusks through him. She then picked him up with her trunk and carried him away. By this time they got their guns out and shot her three times. She dropped the tracker and ran into the woods. The tracker died on the way back to camp.

It is 4 pm and we are going to look at the leopard baits, three of them about 20 miles apart. Nothing on the baits yet.

The tse-tse flies sure are a nuisance. I have many bites on my arms around the elbows and they are getting pretty sore. Only useful purpose they have is to prevent an area from being inhabited. Cattle cannot live here, and consequently people neither. The area is only good for hunting.

DAY 7 - It rained early this morning and it is quite wet everywhere. We leave camp by 5 am. Overcast skies, valleys are green, hills and jungle is green, waterholes everywhere - so game is very scattered. You have to hunt hard to find it. John says it won't come out in the open today so we go into the bush for it. The car makes too much noise so we will take a foot safari. John is lean and muscular and walks about as easily as he breaths. Boy, am I out of shape - no muscles and carrying about 20 pounds of lard. It's hot and humid and I have to really push, especially going uphill.

We spot a beautiful sable bull and make a good shot at 210 yards. I think this is the most sought after trophy in Zambia. Back to camp and I am so hungry my stomach thinks my throat is cut. The camps are very comfortable and well arranged. The best I have been in so far.

After a couple hours rest we load up to go out again but a storm is coming so we give up for the day. We now have 5 baits out. They only last a couple of days, soon rot in this heat.

DAY 8 - My boy is coming with a cup of tea - must be 4 am. Short nights, seems like I just went to bed. After breakfast we leave in the dark. It is overcast and raining. Headed for a spot about 50 miles away where we had seen some buffalo the day before. Come to a big dambo, short grass, pot holes of water every few hundred yards. Dambo is couple of miles long and about half a mile wide. Driving along slowly, John spots some zebra about a mile distant. "Do you want one?" asks John. They are Burchells and nicely marked. "Yes," I replied, so we parked the car.

I take my 300 H & H and start out. To get near enough we make a long sweep through the bush. At 500 yards the shrubs are getting short so we crouch for another 100 yards. "We will have to crawl," says John - so we crawl. He has long muscular legs and makes wide swinging strokes. I am crawling straight ahead, two strokes to John's one and can't keep up. I feel like a turtle following a hare. A hundred yards of this and we stand up behind a tree. I shoot at 300 yards and the shot hits the ground under a stallion. Bad shooting, I thought. Off they go, but settle down again about 3/4 mile away. We take another sweep through the bush, another crouch and crawl. Believe me, 75 year old knees don't work like 45 year olds. Wringing wet with sweat, I make another bad shot, this time over him at 200 yards. I took an oath I am going to get rid of this fat, I love to eat all the sweets and goodies and I am going to learn to hate them.

Another 10 miles or so we see a small herd of buffalo bulls. At the same time they see us and make off. We stop, I take the 375 and we follow their tracks for about a mile. They stop in some thick bush and we start the stalk. At 150 yards we can only see parts of black shapes. We have to get closer, so we crawl slowly about 50 yards. Still can't see horns. John sits down, puts his rifle in his lap and pushes himself forward with his hands, stopping every 10 yards to glass the thicket, I follow suit. We are now within 60 yards, there are 5 bulls, 3 laying down, can't see the horns. John whispers, "They will get up after a bit and go to water. We will wait them out." After 10 minutes they suddenly jump up and run off. The wind had shifted and they caught our scent.

Returning to camp, a little rest, lunch and we will check the baits. We also check the 300 and find all the action and seating bolts are loose. We tighten them and re-sight the gun. Nothing on the baits.

John's partner, Granville, came into camp with a truck. He had packed up Bilili for the season -- rains, impossible to operate. Much of the soil there is like black cotton, very soft.  ---> Next Day 9 - 12

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