Bowhunting Elephant in Zimbabwe

by Jean de Runz
(Saverne, FRANCE)

An African hunting story about an elephant hunted with bow and arrow...

My cousin Luc and I are hunting together every year in Africa. This year we decided to look and see in the south of Africa for different game. As last year I came back from the CAR very sick from the Chikungunya virus and as my recovery was very slow, I decided to have the nicest hunt possible that I can afford because I was not sure to remain fit enough to hunt on in Africa. The most appealing hunts were for elephant. To rough it up I opted for the bow and arrow.

I hunted several animals, but this is the story of my elephant hunt.
That particular afternoon we scouted the area to look for ele spoor. Buzz (the PH) is mad about spooring ele and cats, it’s for him second nature.

We picked some bull ele spoor out, which was very encouraging. When driving back home, we disturbed an old bull nearby the road, and a good one at that, a big bodied carrying tusks over 40pds. A beaming Buzz declared he’ll be our quarry.

The next day we scouted the area again for ele spoor and entered the thorny expanse (which I call the "thorny nightmare") following ele bulls. In 20 minutes we caught up with them, or more precisely 4 bulls drifted toward us. It’s amazing how effortlessly and fast these huge beasts can surge from thorn trees just like ships on the ocean. Not so with us, the thorns preventing us from retreating. Guess who was running the show? Our old friend the big bull we saw yesterday. Fortunately they were just curious and at 15 yards they turned back and disappeared in the scrub. Shamefaced, we gave up for the day, the bulls were alerted.

The morrow we carried on spooring bull elephants and leopards. In the afternoon, when checking a waterhole, I had the opportunity to shoot an old bushbuck. I was looking for one for four years. Imagine how joyful I was, especially with a very old grey critter, same age group as my buffalo. Moreover it’ll provide supreme bait for the leopard.

As the trackers were attending to the bushbuck Buzz and I carried on spooring when Ryan called. He just had heard branches being broken close by. No doubt elephants were feeding. Buzz asked me to arrange my kit and be ready to swoop on them. After all I was supposed to be here and eager to hunt elephants. Not exactly the case for two reasons. First the sun was going down and second because it was once again in the thorny nightmare from where they have ejected us.

Stealthily the five of us, Buzz and Crighton the tracker, Ryan the cool cameraman, the scout who wouldn’t in any case miss the opportunity and I sneak into the spiny scrub tiptoeing on dry leaves doing our best not to be scratched or immobilized by one inch long thorn. 500 yards of careful approach led us to a feeding bull.

Bingo! It was our old friend, facing us and hardly concerned by our presence though he kept on looking at us. At 20m from the bull, Buzz invited me to shoot as soon as possible, the light diminishing. I must confess that I am scared by elephants. It comes from our hunts in Burkina Faso where the "preserved" elephants were prone to bully or charge us especially when I was toting either a camera or a pitiful knife.

No shot possible, the brush being too dense. We neared to about 12m and froze. The only possible aperture was on the right of the bull, should he walk about 15m. For 10 minutes we waited glaring at one another, the ele munching leisurely and seeming to study us.

Eventually he decided to move to the right. When his armpit met the aperture in the brush I let fly.

The bull trumpeted, turned in our direction ... then turned back and dashed away, seemingly leading other bulls in his wake. Emotion overwhelmed me.

I have trained one year long, shooting every morning and evening for this moment that even haunted my dreams. I felt good. The shot was easy at 12m. Buzz felt content but esteemed the arrow has plowed a bit back. I protested: I was mesmerized by his armpit and planting an arrow in a 10 inches target at 12m is a walk in the park.

Ryan solved the difference of opinion on showing us the footage. The arrow hit too far back. In fact the clean aperture in the brush was not so open. A stem of grass has deflected the arrow. Most of the arrow's energy is stocked in the front. The shaft provides a long lever and anything brushing the fletching renders the arrow wild.

We left very excited by this grave and serious moment, hoping an artery could have been severed and the bull will be dead tomorrow morning.

The dinner's discussion was lively, especially fed by Tristan who is a remarkable bowhunter, and the night was particularly long for me.

At the first peep of daylight we struck on the bull's spoor. On the ground were lying pieces of my shattered arrow but no trace of the broadhead. The blood trail was no longer than 100 m. The long task of spooring was on its way.

Here, the terrain is especially bad for spooring, due to plenty of trampled dry grass and rocks. Only some trails keep the spoor. The four bulls were on their own and intended to go down a long valley. After about 2 km we saw one drop of blood, the last we’ll see during the whole day. We climbed hills and plunged into another valley. We never saw so difficult a tracking job. The bulls were meeting other elephants and parting, sometimes one leaving and joining the group again.

Ryan, Buzz, Crighton and the scout were peeling their eyes and we could have believed them to be genuine liars... we couldn’t see and unravel any sort of tracks. How skillful they are! Incredible job.

At lunchtime, without any lunch handy, we hit the communal zone, out of the concession. We will now have to spoor on matted dry grass only, sheer madness. In the middle of the afternoon, Buzz and Crighton let us rest under the guard of Ryan for the spoor had merged with tracks of tens of elephants. 30 minutes later came the unmistakable noise of broken branches in the forest nearby. We bunched together and cautiously enter the wood.

One bull was visible, we had to advance up to under his trumpet to note that it was not our quarry. Immediately, a herd of 30-40 elephants came out of the blue toward us and we had to retreat fast. Buzz and Crighton assaulted the cop once again in vain. We brainstormed a moment, and once again Buzz and Crighton explored the forest and called us. They have found the 4 bulls.

As soon as I saw them, I asked Buzz to shoot the wounded bull. I was very concerned with the indigenes we could hear around and I was scared that flushing the elephants will have the poor guys unaware of pissed of elephants in the vicinity and getting trampled. Buzz reassured me, making clear that he was handling the situation.

We approached the bulls, mine was the first to be seen, the 3 others behind him. We neared at 15m of the bull. He was displaying a blood splash just in front of his left hind leg. I did my best to find a shooting window, no way the brush was too dense.

We decided that I had to brain him. I set myself in front of him, at about 20m, and thoroughly aimed, my 375HH cradled into the tripod. When about to shoot, the bull lifted his head, I corrected for the height to keep in line with the brain and shot.

The bull stumbled and veered on the left to be caught high in the lungs by a solid from Buzz’s 416 Rigby Ruger. The staggering bull left along with his 3 pals in a cloud of dust. We were elated but not Buzz who rushed behind them and finished the bull. Not good to let a p***ed off wounded bull play havoc in the villages.

What a hulk of a bull! Really a big bodied bull, not exactly the sort roaming in this part of the country. Was it out of a national park?

The tusks are thick and fairly long, a 45 pounder. He looks like an old one, especially the sole of his feet displaying deeps cracks and old guys have small nerve in their tusks consequently more ivory.

The arrow has entered too far back in the belly and zipped straight trough the abdomen and exited just in front of the left hind leg, keeping enough peps to shatter into the branches. My bullet hit just a trifle on the right of the brain. The height was good, I properly followed the brain when the bull lifted his head unfortunately I didn't observe that he slightly turned his head on the left. Just one or two centimeters but as very likely the bull had read "Pondoro" - he knew the knock out power of a 375HH is not enough to unplug him.

How content and elated we were feeling. We tracked him down for 8 hours without stopping, our expectations (at least mine) going high and low alternately. Now we were dog tired but overwhelmed by joy. Nothing can express how glad I felt.

2 hours of fast walking (it reminded us of our service in the army) to the car and dinner's celebration and happiness. Buzz produced some cigars.

Good wine and cold beers closed a day that I’ll remember for ever.

Jean de Runz