LESSONS ON BUFFALO BEHAVIOUR - MANA POOLS NATIONAL PARK, ZIMBABWE 2006

"On our 3rd day of our adventure, we had an extremely frightening, yet exhilarating experience. Exhilarating in the sense that none of us were hurt, and after the crisis was past, we were able to each go through our own life-change according to our own individuality, which only a near death experience can do. We were paddling down a gentle, shallow channel, with the main bank on our right and a sandbank/island covered in tall green grass from the recent heavy rains on our left. We had all just opened our waterproof canoe bags to retrieve our photographic equipment to prepare to take photos of a flock of Egyptian geese on the sandbar ahead of us. There were over 100 birds on the sandbar, and we knew they may all take off and provide a stunning photo, because the backdrop was the main river, the mountains in Zambia, and massive, thick black thunder clouds towering into the sky.

Unbeknown to us, there was a loan Cape buffalo bull, or a ‘Dagga Boy’, on the island, who had heard our voices on approach, but because of the thick vegetation, could not see us, and vice versa. When an old buffalo bull is on his own and is on an island, he feels trapped. They will often panic, and all they can think about is getting onto the main land. So our bull did just that. Unfortunately for us, we had absolutely no warning of this, as he barreled out of the tall grass, literally on top of us. Our trained Professional Hunter and Guide, (to be known to you as 'Basil' in order to protect his identity and the reputation of his company from nasty agents who are always out to undercut people in the real world), has had over 15 years experience just on the river, and years more of hunting experience to add to it, looked up to see the massive black head and shoulders of this beast bearing down on us. He only had time to shout ‘BUFFALO!’ and pulled up his 44 magnum handgun, (his heavy caliber rifle was by his side in its case), and as the buffalo charged into us, the canoe tipped over, with the three of us, (his wife, (to be known as 'Bethusula , also a trained professional Hunter and Guide, was in the middle of the canoe, and I was in the front), all landing in the water. The 2 canoes behind us, containing the 4 brave adventurers from the states, Debbie and Dick, and Jenny and Duwaine (their real names, believe it or not!), started to back paddle. In seconds, and in slow motion, the next moments went by. Basil proceeded to empty his cartridge into the animal’s head shouting at us all to run, as it pummeled and attacked the canoe, with Basil trying to stay above water and his hand holding the gun at an awkward angle. His wife  was under the canoe being pushed deeper and deeper into the water and mud, the 4 behind us were now out of their vessels running back upstream, and I, having grabbed my canoe bag in the hopes that my camera was in it, ran across the 20m channel towards the main bank, the thick sticky black mud dragging at my feet. I got to the other side, and looked back to see Basil in hell with the buffalo bull not dying in any hurry. Cape buffalo are notorious for their massive bone structure and huge ‘boss’ horns, not leaving much of a window for a clear shot to their brain, especially when they are trying to drown you, and they are also notorious for their incredible rage and strength when they are filled with fear and pain, which this one certainly was with about 4 bullets in its head now. What happened next I remember with such clarity, it was almost as though I had taken a photo of the situation with my poor camera, now 2ft under water. The buffalo stopped attacking Nick and ran around the boat to carry on with his panicked route to the mainland. Just in time, it seems, as Bethusula was about to run out of oxygen in the water and mud and under the canoe. He got to the main bank, and suddenly I found myself alone, unprotected on the bank with an incredibly angry and fearful animal, and felt the most vulnerable and afraid I have ever felt in my life. The bank was devoid of vegetation except for one bush, about 2m high and 1m wide. Everyone in the water screamed for me to run back to them, but Basil was still struggling to take out his rifle, and I also knew that this animal was capable of running a lot faster in shallow water than I could ever hope to. So my instinct kicked in and I ran to the lone bush. I had a white cotton shirt on, (leading to many a joke later on in the trip about me being a ‘decoy’), which I was struggling to take off because it was wet. I crouched behind the bush, and the bull lost sight of me. He was about 10m away from me, and what worried me was that his head wounds were affecting him because his head was to one side and twitching. Surely a sign of brain damage? He then proceeded towards the bush, because, although he could not see me, he knew I had gone in that direction, and many a hunter will tell you stories of wily wounded Cape buffalo bulls ambushing them instead of running away. They are very intelligent, and when they are hurt, extremely dangerous. So my buffalo wanted revenge. I must have had a million angels looking after me, because he did actually catch sight of me again, and I could almost see him trying to decide whether he should attack me or run away to safety. He turned, tossed his head and he trotted over the lip of the bank and into the bush, a very unusual decision for a wounded bull. As soon as he went I ran, or staggered, down to regroup with my party, and white as my ‘decoy’ shirt and in absolute shock helped to bale out the canoes and try to re-float them. All the while we were all thinking of the fact that our noise and splashing may have attracted crocodiles.

The world had carried on without us. The geese still sat on their sandbar, hippos grunted out in the main river, birds twittered, and the water flowed calmly by. For them, it was just another incident. We all dredged up our cameras etc, and although I was safe, we all were, and I should have been eternally grateful for that one fact, which I was, but only seemed to be once the shock had begun to wear off, I remember thinking how strange it was that I was so upset about my beautiful camera, dragged up from the mud, lens seized and full of water, and the body just waterlogged. I was numb, and just held it in disbelief. It had taken me a while to save up for my equipment, which is so essential to my job, not to mention that it was my pride and joy and had given me so much satisfaction over the last 2 years. Anyway, as I said, that was my initial reaction, but after a while I realized the enormity of our situation and the fact that we had come out unscathed, except that our memories were stored on those devices. But we now had a memory etched on our minds forever that felt photographic! Our American friends were obviously distraught over the loss of their equipment, because this was their trip, and those were their memories on the cameras. We had to nervously paddle for another hour or so to our camp and, unsure if the cameras would work again, but hopeful, put them on a table in the hot sun, hoping that maybe the evaporation would help.

The Americans very kindly offered then to take our equipment back to the states with them and send them to the respective companies to see what could be done or retrieved. I do not hold out much hope for my camera and lens, but I was willing to try anyway,and grateful for them to take the equipment over for us"