OK you bunch of ornery bastids, I'm back! Fantastic trip, and cannot say enough superlative things about the huge concession, diversity of game, and numbers. Rather than start with "I boarded the plane in ATL and flew for 30 days and 30 nights (it seemed)". Let's get right to it.
About the third evening, I was sitting around the fire having a cold one, and overlooking the Luangwa River, from our camp up on a short bluff that faces the North Luangwa National Park side of the river. This is possibly the most picturesque setting I've ever hunted in Africa, with the camp nestled in the riverine thickets that run along the banks. Filled with hippos, and some big nasty crocs, the river bed there is probably 400 yards wide, but during this time of year, the water flow is down to a channel 4'-8' deep and 100 yards wide, with pools here and there.
I've known my PH, Johnny Duplooy since probably about 1992, when I first hunted with him. Our families have become friends and we see them annually during the convention season, so this is a relaxed safari among friends.
"Bwana, we are going to take your hippo proper tomorrow. None of this shoot from the bank. We are going to take our shoes off and wade right in water and take him on his territory. We'll see what that big double of yours can do." That set an interesting scenario, to say the least.
Next day, we drove along the river until we found some big bulls where the water narrows between two sandy flats, one on our side, and the other side of the water's edge is National Park land.
No Permiso to shoot over there, and very bad mojo if you shoot and your wounded game happens to run to the far side. We sized up a good bull, and walked right out on the sandy flat to the water's edge. The hippos sunk down leaving only their eyes and ears above the water, giving us eat [bleep] and die looks and making threatening grunts in our general direction. Duplooy took off his shoes and rolled his pant legs up, obtained his Merkel double .470 from Davey his head tracker and told me "Let's go!"
I wear canvas jungle boots, so I kept my shoes on, loaded up my Yale .450 #2 with a pair of hot dog sized shells, soft nose on top and solid under, with 2 more solids locked between my ring and middle finger of my left hand for follow up, and 4 more on my belt. Meanwhile, Mrs. Hatari, Hatari Jr. viewed the events from the Land-cruiser perched on the bank. Johnny and I waded in, not 40 yards from the bull, who to me, was looking more like a locomotive than a mammal at this point. We eased in, and it didn't take much before he let us know we were encroaching on his space. The big bastid turned head on and picked his head up out of the water and took two and half quick steps right at me. I swung the double up, centering the gold bead of the front sight right between his eyes and started to take up the tension on the trigger went the hippo froze.
"Let's make him turn broadside". With that, Johnny took another step and I followed. The hippo lost his nerved and turned to my right exposing his shoulder as his body rose up out of the water. Boom! I cut loose with the 500 grain Woodleigh soft-point and hammered him right behind the shoulder. Both lungs pierced, a spray of blood erupted from both nostrils. Funny thing is, the bull kept going. Damn, these things are tough. Has he rose and fell pushing up a bow wave like a 16' Wellcraft powered by a 80hp Merc, I concentrated on his shoulder and let go with a 500 grain solid. Turns out my target concentration was perfect, but as the bull galloped, his shoulder submerged and I hit the water 3 yards before him. "Low Bwana. Keep shooting!" Johnny screamed. Quick reload and I got two more solids raking forward through he chest. Good shots, the bull flinched, but carried on leaving a wake of scarlet in the water behind him.
Not ready to go down, the damned thing exited the water on our side of the channel and started trotting down the beach. Wham! A solid right in his left hip made him squat, but he kept going. "Run after him! Don't let him back in the water to cross over". So we ran after him. Meanwhile, our audience up in the vehicle is laughing their butts off, initially at us, but then at the goings on across the river in the park. As Johnny and I were running after the bull, there was a vehicle over in the park from the Frankfort Conservatory observing all of this, that is until we started shooting. I'm pretty sure my second shot ricocheted off the water and whistled right past someone's ear, because they mounted their truck and burned rubber getting the hell outta Dodge. Johnny stuck two shots from his .470 in the hippo as I raked the bull again as it turned back into the water and toward the park. Those last two dropped him in his tracks, in about 2' of water, facing the park. The dust cloud from the Frankfort people hauling ass settled over us as the excitement hit its conclusion.
"That was fun, Bwana!" Johnny grinning ear to ear and calling his crew to bring some vehicles to pull this giant out of the water to be quartered and hung for lion bait. As an aside, we took the tail and had it made ossa buca style, and it was as tasty as anything I've had like it a fine Italian restaurant.
These things take some killing. Found my first softpoint and one solid. The soft point took out both lungs and the major plumbing that feds them. So my first shot was lethal, the hippo just didn't know it.