Ron Machado
It was cold and dark when I stepped out of my room this morning.
Early this year, I turned 85 and wanted to do something different for my birthday. I contacted an old friend, Carl van Zyl, the owner of John X Safaris, and spoke with him about hunting a cape buffalo. I had taken a cape buffalo many years ago, but this time, I wanted a dugga-boy, an old buffalo that had been kicked out of the herd by the younger males and was forced to live out his remaining years alone.
That is how I ended up in South Africa, getting some great photography of the many wild game species.
Yes, there were cape buffalo, hundreds of them, but none were dugga-boys. All were a part of a herd.
Late in the morning, we had driven to the top of a ridge and spotted a large herd of cape buffalo drinking at a water hole. We got out of the truck to check them out. Several nice buffalo were in that herd, but I wanted a loner. Shortly our tracker pointed a dark spot a long way off. My professional hunter (PH) retrieved his spotting scope. “It’s a buffalo, but we need to get closer.”
We drove past the water hole when the PH pulled to the side of the trail, looked at me, and asked, “Are you ready for a walk?” And therein could lie the problem. Being well into my 85th year, my knees aren’t in the best condition. But I replied, “Hell yeah.”
As we started, the PH said, “Walk slowly, and watch you don’t make any noise.” Moving through the trees, we came to the open area. We could see the buffalo lying in the sun just over 100 yards away. The PH said, “I can only see one side of its horn. But that side looks good.”
I replied, “If one side is good, I don’t care about the other. It doesn’t matter if it is broken or not.”
Time passed with me on the sticks. What felt like an hour was actually only 10 minutes or so. The buffalo stood and turned, walking directly at us.
“He is coming to the water,” the PH whispered, but the buffalo offered no shot. Closing the distance to about 60 yards, it turned and offered an opening. I took my shot, hitting low on its chest, just inside the leg. The buffalo turned, dust flowing off its back, and crashed into the brush at the side of the open area. We approached the animal with our guns ready when the PH said, “This hunt is over.”
I had my dagga-boy.
Note: For everyone concerned about the meat, none of the buffalo is wasted. We hunters enjoy what we shoot. Also, John X Safaris sponsors a school for local children and provides all the meat and side dishes. They also donate to a food pantry that helps feed local families. Nothing is wasted.