Should a buffalo after being wounded enter thick bush or other covert, it is a good plan (and one I always adopt myself) to wait for a quarter or half an hour before taking up the spoor, as the beast will be almost certain to lie down, and will not only become weak and stiff from the effects of the wound, more especially if a leg is damaged or broken, but its suspicions will be to a certain extent allayed.
The African natives, whether professional hunters or only porters, &c., with their extraordinarily sharp sight, are, as a rule, so much quicker in detecting the slightest sign of a beast having passed, be it a minute speck of blood, a bruised blade of grass, or a fragment of freshly turned up earth, that I must advise the sportsman to let his gun-bearers take up the spoor, whilst he, a yard or so in advance, with rifle at full cock and ready for instant use, keeps a sharp look-out ahead of him.
A buffalo very often—but not always, as some writers maintain—gives a deep bellowing groan when just on the point of dying, and the sportsman should always be on the alert for such an indication, as much time can be saved by walking straight up to it without fear, instead of cautiously poking and peering about in the bush, as is generally done when following up a wounded buffalo.
The following account of a hunt I once had in the Arusha-wa-Chini district in March 1887 will serve as an illustration of a buffalo’s cunning, ferocity, and vitality.
I was encamped on the river Weri-weri, a short distance above the native villages, but as the people were afraid to prowl far from their homes on account of the Masai and other enemies, game was not only very plentiful but less wild than elsewhere. Buffaloes were very numerous, in large herds, besides a good many old bulls, either solitary or in small bands of two or three. This country was also one of the best I was ever in, from a stalker’s point of view, as the alluvial plains on both banks of the river, though open, were dotted about with trees of various kinds and sizes, and were in places quite park-like in appearance. There were also numerous ant-heaps, and occasionally small bushes dotted about, besides the grass, about 18 inches high, all of which afforded capital covert. The plain on the left or eastern bank of the river varied from a mile to a mile and a half in width, and was bordered on its eastern side by a belt of thick bush and clumps of forest trees, in which the buffaloes took up their quarters during the heat of the day, coming out again in the evening to feed in the open during the night and early morning. The bush, like most African bush which borders on open plain, was fairly thin on the outskirts, and was what is commonly known as open bush. Here was a very favourite feeding-ground for waterbuck, impala, and other bush-loving antelopes, besides buffaloes, which were generally found feeding in the early morning before the sun became too hot.
As I walked over the plain on the left bank of the river I passed great quantities of game—including eland, waterbuck, impala, and a troop of thirteen ostriches (which I had tried many times to circumvent, but always unsuccessfully until I drove them, when I got a fine old cock bird), besides the everlasting zebra and ‘kongoni’ (hartebeest). After going about three miles up the river, I at last saw two old bull buffaloes on the opposite side of the plain, quietly feeding close to an isolated patch of bush which stood some little distance from the main belt out in the plain. As buffaloes have rather poor sight, and as there were two or three big trees between the beasts and myself, about 400 yards from them, I told my men, some twenty-five in number, to follow me in single file, and we all got up to a tree without the least trouble. At that moment a herd of zebras, which had hitherto taken no notice of us, suddenly took fright on getting our wind, and galloped round between us and the buffaloes. The latter, being thus disturbed, lumbered off into the isolated clump of thick bush close by. After giving them time to settle down and forget their fears, I proceeded more cautiously with my two gun-bearers, leaving the rest of the men under the tree with orders to come on when they heard a shot or other signal. The buffaloes, however, were evidently on the alert, and as they were standing in the shade, they discovered us when we were still 100 yards off as we crossed the open, and bolted out on the opposite side, making for the main bush. Running round the clump to try and keep them in sight, I was just in time to see them enter the open bush and disappear from view.
This made it necessary for us to take up their spoor, and while the gun-bearers were so engaged I kept a look-out ahead. After going a short distance, I suddenly saw one of the brutes trotting back towards us, and when about 100 yards off it dived into a small dense clump of bush some 20 yards square, followed almost immediately afterwards by the other one. This proceeding on the part of buffaloes I have read of, though it was the first and only instance in my own experience, and as my suspicions were aroused, instead of making straight for them along their spoor, I made a détour through the low straggling bush and stalked up to a small tree within 60 yards of the clump they were in. At first I could see nothing of them, the clump being too thick, but with the aid of binoculars I made out part of the head and the outline of the neck of one of them as it stood broadside on. Taking the 8-bore, I fired at the place where I thought his shoulder ought to be, and he fell with a deep groan, which at first led me to believe that he was either dead or dying. The other one promptly floundered out of the bush and stood broadside on, looking in my direction sufficiently long to enable me to change rifles and plant a 4-bore bullet in his shoulder; but it was too high and too far back, and off he went. In the meantime the other one in the clump, after kicking and plunging about, picked himself up and went after his companion, and as I saw that he was very lame, I made so certain that he would not go far that I did not fire at him again. Before following them I took a hasty survey of the ground and found my suspicions confirmed. They had returned on their own spoor when I first saw them trotting back, and had I not seen them, I should have followed up their spoor, which I found led close past the bush they were in, and they might have made themselves disagreeable and taken me at a disadvantage. I then hurried after them with the 8-bore, and, outrunning my gun-bearers, soon overtook them, as they were both lame, getting within 70 yards, when the one which had received the 4-bore bullet, and was a trifle behind the other, evidently heard me coming along behind him, as he whisked round and stood staring at me, broadside on, whilst the other continued to retreat. Sitting down (my favourite shooting position, and as I was much blown after my run with a heavy rifle), I took a steady shot at his shoulder, and distinctly heard the bullet strike, but it had absolutely no effect, and the beast never even flinched. Hastily jamming in another cartridge in order to have one in reserve in case he should charge, I again fired at his shoulder, and he dropped as if struck by lightning; he fell so quickly that I did not see him fall. He was, however, not dead, as I could see his side heaving above the top of the grass as he lay. By this time the gun-bearers had come up, followed shortly afterwards by the rest of the men, who had come on when they had heard the first two shots, and who, on seeing that the beast was down, ran up like a pack of wolves to ‘chinja’ it—i.e. to cut its throat. Knowing, however, that it was not dead, I ran forward and shouted to them not to go near; but they were too excited to pay heed to my warning, and were standing all round it, when, after a desperate effort to regain its legs, it jumped up, the men flying in all directions. Catching sight of my second gun-bearer, who had also gone up to it, and who at the time was carrying my 4-bore rifle, it went straight for him. The man bolted, and, finding that the buffalo was close upon him, dropped the rifle—the stock of which was snapped short off at the grip by the buffalo treading on it—and ran for dear life, the beast being within a few inches of him, and giving vent to a furious grunt at each step. For some little time I was unable to shoot, as the rest of the men were scattered and dodging about between myself and the buffalo, so I shouted to the gun-bearer to run round towards me, which he did, and I was able to fire, but the 8-bore bullet had apparently no effect on the infuriated beast. At the same moment the man doubled and ran straight away from me, making for a small tree about 100 yards off, twisting and turning as he ran, but the buffalo still stuck close to him and doubled as quickly as the man did. All this time I was tearing along in pursuit, hoping to get a shot, but dared not fire for fear of hitting the man, who was dodging about from side to side, and I was some 60 yards behind when they reached the tree. This the man endeavoured to catch hold of so as to swing himself round, but he was going so fast that the impetus caused his hand to slip, and he tripped up and fell forward flat on his face into the grass, which was some 2½ feet high under the shade of the tree. The buffalo, being so close to him at the time, overshot him, but whipped round, and I twice saw it give a vicious dig at him with its head and then kneel down two or three times, when I could only see its stern above the grass. By the time I got close up the buffalo was in a kneeling position; and, thinking the man was probably dead, I raised my rifle to fire, when the man, whom I could not see in the longish grass, raised his head and shoulders from underneath the beast’s stomach directly in the line of fire, obliging me to divert the muzzle until he wriggled himself out of line, when a couple of bullets at close quarters settled this cunning, savage, yet plucky beast. The man’s back and the calves of his legs were covered with blood from the buffalo’s mouth and nostrils during the run, showing how very close it had been to him all the time. He told me afterwards that when he fell he turned over on to his back, and the buffalo made a bad shot each time it lunged at him with its head, or tried to kneel on him, owing perhaps to the fact that it was weak and dazed from the loss of blood, and he was therefore able to twist himself out of the way. It, however, caught him a very severe blow on the knee, which nearly dislocated it, and made it necessary to carry him into camp on a litter; but after a little careful doctoring and complete rest he was able to take the field again in three weeks.
The buffalo was close upon him
On cutting up the beast, I found the 4-bore bullet was too far back, and also too high. The first 8-bore bullet had caught the beast fair behind the shoulder, and had gone through both lungs rather low down, and I think, if the beast had been left alone after it had been knocked down by the next shot, it would very soon have died quietly; but, as it was, the men rushing up and standing round it seemed to inspire it with a final desire for revenge. The second 8-bore bullet was, as I expected, too high, and had passed through the dorsal ridge just above the vertebræ. The shot fired at it as it ran past me caught it in the proper place, went through both lungs and just grazed the heart, and it is more than probable that it was this shot which prevented what might have been a serious accident.