If you drive through Ripple Creek for a day, you will see hundreds, if not thousands, of Impala. These sleek antelope travel in bands of five to five hundred. On the first few days of the hunt, I harvested eleven antelope for baits. As Impala rams age, they hit a point in mid life where their horns are as long as they will ever be. As they continue to age, they wear down the tips of their horns. While their bodies get larger and their horns gain mass, the overall length begins to decrease. These large-bodied, stubby horned rams are ideal for bait as they are typically past prime breeding age and provide the most meat for you money.

While hunting bait impala on the first day of the hunt, we spotted an exceptional trophy impala at dusk. He was about four hundred yards from the road in a large flat. The second we stopped the truck, took off at a run. “Tricky bugger,” George said as we watched the ram sprinting across the flat. “He’ll be here again. Impala’s are territorial.” For the next nine days, we looked at thousands of impala, none of which were the size of what we started referring to as “The Big Impala.” We returned to the same flat every night at dusk for a week looking for him, but he eluded us. On the ninth night as we sat glassing the herds of impala trying to spot him, I asked George if there was a possibility that he might have moved out. “Maybe Pete,” he replied. “But more likely he’s out there somewhere in the brush and we can’t see him. Or maybe the cheetahs ate him yesterday.” The day before, the flat, which usually teemed with different species of impala, had been completely empty with the exception of a few giraffe. We later found the tracks of two cheetahs crossing the road.

“Let’s try him in the morning,” George said as the sun set. “He’s not used to us seeing him here and we might be able to surprise him.” The next morning, we began glassing the flat as the sun was just coming over the horizon, painting everything with a golden glow. As we were driving to a new glassing point, we heard a tap on the roof. George immediately stopped and pulled out his binoculars. “There he is!” he exclaimed. “Is it The Big Impala?” I asked. “Yes, let’s go!” The Big Impala was with a group of females and moved into the brush. Taking Absent and Tyge with us, we slowly moved into the brush after them. After stalking them for several hundred yards, we spotted them in an opening, feeding away from us. George set up the shooting sticks and I quickly found him in my scope. “Two-hundred eight-three yards,” George whispered as I steadied the cross hairs on his shoulder. As the rifle went off, I saw him flinch before he bounded into the brush. “You missed,” George said quietly as we watched the rest of the herd bound off. “No,” I replied. “I hit him. I saw him flinch at the shot.” “I don’t think you did, Pete,” Tyge chimed in. “I didn’t hear the bullet hit.”

“Well, if you think you hit him, lets go make sure you didn’t,” George said as we began walking to where they had been standing. After searching for over an hour, we were unable to find any sign that I had hit him. No blood, no hair, nothing. “Don’t worry, Pete,” George said consolingly. “He’ll be back again.” “I could swear that I saw him flinch when I shot,” I insisted. “But, even if I did, it doesn’t look like we’re going to find him.”

We returned that night and again started sorting through the hundreds of impala milling about. “Is that him?” I asked pointing to a distant brown dot across the plain. “That’s not him, but he’s pretty good. You have two on license; I think we should go after him.” Once again we were sneaking across the plain, using the occasional trees for cover. The impala knew we were there, but didn’t run. They began feeding away from us into thicker cover. After slowly following them for a few hundred more yards, we finally had a clear shot at the big ram. I set up on the sticks and centered the cross hairs on him. He was facing directly away from us with his head down feeding. “Wait until he turns,” George instructed me. I took a deep breath and slowly released it to calm my heart. The distance was about 150 yards. The ram suddenly stopped feeding and looked directly back at us as I felt the breeze on the back of my neck. He took one step to the left, giving me a strong quartering away shot. I placed the cross hairs on his flank, aiming through him for his off-side shoulder.

I heard the bullet hit as I squeezed the trigger. After a sprint of about thirty yards, he piled up in some brush. “Good shot!” George exclaimed as he slapped me on the back. As we approached to fallen ram, the first thing I noticed was that while his horns we long and sharply pointed, he was not nearly as large bodied as the other rams we had taken for bait. “The ones with the biggest horns typically don’t have that big of bodies,” George explained to me. “They’re usually very average sized. The really big-bodied impala tend to have shorter, thicker horns. We moved the ram into a more open area and took some of the best pictures of the trip with twilight sky as a background. “Now we just need to find The Big Impala and you’ll have two for your trophy room!” George said as we carried the ram back to the truck.

The next night, we again returned to the flat behind camp to look for The Big Impala. As the sun was setting, we spotted him with a group of females as they moved into a patch of thick brush. The winds were swirling, so there was no way we could make the stalk. The thick brush was at the base of a large Kopje. Kopje’s are very similar to the buttes you find in the United States, except they’re typically solid rock. The face of the kopje rose straight up a hundred feet before leveling off at the top. “If you can climb, I think we can actually get up the back side and come across the top and get a shot at him. Are you up for it?” George asked. I said that I was and we took off in the cruiser making circle around to the backside of the giant rock. When we got to the back side, I noticed that it also rose almost straight up to the top. “Let’s go!” George said and he and Absent and I began climbing up the side of the face. Climbing require both hands and I soon fell behind, trying not to smash my rifle scope, binoculars and rangefinder against the rocks while climbing. Noticing that I was falling behind and that the light was fading, George and Absent began climbing back down to assist me. George took my rifle and range finder, Absent my binoculars and we again headed up the side of the rock.

When we reached to top, we were able to quickly cross to the other side. In the fading light, we spotted The Big Impala and his harem of females feeding about a hundred yards from the base of the Kopje. While he had been spooked and running every other time we had seen him, he was now relaxed and feeding, feeling secure in the thick brush. Using a tight sling, I laid prone at the edge of the rock and dropped him with a single shot. “Finally!” George exclaimed. As he took off down the side of the nearly vertical slope like a mountain goat. I looked at Absent with an uncertain expression on my face. “Let’s go, Boss,” he said with a grin. “I take your gun for you.”

Handing my rifle to Absent, I began working my way down the steep face. Surprisingly, I managed to get to the bottom without breaking anything. “Nice, eh?” George commented as we looked down at The Big Impala. His lyre-shaped horns were shiny-black and sharply pointed. “He’s a fantastic impala.”

As George and Absent posed the impala for pictures, taking advantage of the setting sun for a backdrop, I looked him over. There was a spot on his back where the hair was shaved off in a straight line. When I reviewed the footage from when I thought I hit him the first time, you can actually the bullet crease him right over his back.

Tags: Impala Hunting, lemco, Safari, zimbabwe

“We’re going to sit in the blind from 3PM until 6AM.’ Sitting silently in chair for fifteen hours wasn’t exactly what I had imagined when I booked a Leopard hunt with PH George Hallamore of HHK Safaris for July 2006. My mind went back to the flight I’d taken six days earlier starting in Minneapolis and ending in Bulawayo. The leg between Atlanta and Johannesburg had lasted fourteen hours and I’d barely made it through that. At least on the flight I could get up and walk around from time to time, sleep or watch a movie. If the leopard waited until morning to show, or worse yet didn’t show at all, the time in the blind would make the flight seem like a short trip to the store.

For my hunt, I chose the Lemco Conservancy in Southeastern Zimbabwe. Lemco encompasses approximately 700,000 acres and is home to over 35 game species including all of the Big 5. Hunters can stay in any one of seven permanent camps that offer first class accommodations and excellent food. For this hunt, I was based out of the Ripple Creek camp on the northwestern corner of the concession.

Formerly a cattle ranch, Lemco has become one of the best areas in southern Zimbabwe for plains game as well as buffalo. But what Lemco is best known for is its big leopards. Since this was my first safari, I wanted to hunt an area with quality plains game that would give me a good shot at taking leopard. After talking to George, I felt confident that if we worked hard I would come home not only with a good bag of plains game, but also big leopard.

Accompanying me on my trip was videographer Tyge Floyd of Fulldraw Outdoor Media. Tyge has filmed numerous African safaris and is an accomplished bowhunter. On top of that, I can’t think of a better guy to share a camp with. He was often the first to spot game and was always willing to help out hanging baits.

Upon our arrival in Bulawayo, the first thing I noticed was that my gun case was not in the baggage claim area. When we cleared customs, the second thing I noticed was that George was nowhere to be seen. No guns and no PH. The sick feeling in my stomach was just starting to turn into a burn when George showed up a few minutes later. It turns out he had been given the wrong arrival time for our flight and actually thought he was getting there early. We quickly filed a claim with the airline for my rifles (which showed up at camp three days later) and set off on the four-hour drive to camp.

The first night, we stayed at the Nengo camp with George’s father Lou. His clients were just wrapping up their safari and had taken great trophies including buffalo, leopard, sable and kudu. The next morning, Lou and I were the first ones at the breakfast table. As I sipped my coffee, he reassured me that things would start going more smoothly once we got into camp and gave me a couple good points of advice. Specifically, he recommended that I shoot two zebras for bait as soon as possible; so that once we had cats feeding we’d be able to switch the bait from impala to zebra immediately. “If you can get a leopard feeding on zebra, you’ll kill him. Once they start feeding on zebra, they keep coming back. Then it’s just a matter of being in the blind at the right time.”

After dropping our luggage at camp, we immediately set out to start gathering baits. George lent me a 375 H&H that has been in his family for many years. His father had used it for culling buffalo and he had used it as his primary back-up rifle for the first half of his career. Looking at the stock of the rifle, its checkering worn smooth and bluing complete worn away, I couldn’t help but wonder what stories that rifle could tell.

Over the next few days, we worked ourselves into a routine of collecting, setting and checking baits. Following the advice I was given earlier, I shot two zebras the first day, and ended up shooting 10 impalas for bait. Whenever we would find a good spot, we’d hang one of the impala’s from a tree with a steel cable, then cover the animal with brush to keep the birds off of it. The ground below the bait would be cleared down to the dirt so that any tracks left under it would be visible. To finish off the set up, one of the trackers would make a drag, using the guts from the impala soaked in what George affectionately referred to as “juice.” Whenever we would shoot an animal, the trackers would put the blood, stomach contents and intestines into a 40 gallon plastic barrel strapped to the back of the truck. This particular barrel had been on the back of the truck for over a month. As the concoction fermented, the trackers would collect the scary looking black liquid that formed in the bottom of the barrel and use it as a scent lure, splashing it on the drags and the bushes around the bait sites. The smell coming from that barrel was one of those things that needs to be experienced to truly be appreciated…

By the end of the fourth day we had seven baits up, two of which had already been hit by female leopards. We had also taken a great waterbuck and eland. Our daily run to check baits entailed over 80 km of driving. That afternoon we received a tip that day that one of the game scouts had seen a large leopard near the boundary fence separating Ripple Creek from the rest of the concession. As we drove along the fence we came to a dip in a brushy area and George stopped the truck. Everybody was tired and nobody except George made an effort to get out. He walked into the brush about 20 yards and stopped, staring intently at the ground. As we got out to see what he was looking at, we all noticed that the trail was covered with huge leopard tracks. This one trail had more tracks on it than we had seen on the rest of the concession!

“He must have a kill nearby,” George said. “We won’t go and look for it, as I don’t want to disturb him. Let’s get one of those impalas up and get out of here.” We quickly hung the bait and cleared an area for the blind, anticipating that the cat would feed that night.

When we arrived the next day there were claw marks on the tree and a small amount of the impala had been eaten. We hung a quarter of zebra, attached a timer to it and set up a rheostat-controlled light.

As the trackers set up the blind, Tyge, George and I prepared our gear and got ready to sit for the evening. That evening was fairly uneventful until a swarm of bees flew in one of the windows, forcing us to make a hasty retreat out the back door. After the bees decided there was nothing in the blind they wanted, we settled back in. That evening, we saw a troop of baboons and large herds of wildebeest and impalas, but no leopard. At 8:30, we decided to call it quits and headed back to camp for some dinner.

When we arrived at the bait the next morning it was obvious the leopard had been back as he had fed heavily on the zebra. When we checked the timer, it was stopped at 3:15 AM. It was at this point that George informed us that we would be spending the entire night, if necessary, in the blind. After surveying the area, we also noticed that the leopard had walked within about 10 yards of the blind. “I don’t know if he knows the blind is there or not, but we’re going to move it anyway,” George said. “I think he just may have been running the civets and honey badgers off the bait, but better safe than sorry.” After selecting another site for the blind about thirty yards further back, we reset everything and then headed out to check the rest of the baits.

We arrived at the new blind location a little after 3PM, anticipating a very long sit. The first couple of hours went fast as there was enough light to read, but once the sun went down, there was nothing to do except sit in the dark, try to keep warm and listen to the crickets. The night was very calm and aside from the crickets and occasional snort from the wildebeest and impalas, dead silent. At about 7:15, I realized that I shouldn’t have drunk so much water. With legs already stiff from sitting for four hours, I tried to stand to use one of the bottles the trackers had provided to us in case nature called. I almost fell through the side of the blind as I staggered to my knees. I could see George shaking his head at the amount of noise I was making. Once relieved, I zipped my jacket up against the cold and settled back into my chair for what I thought was going to be a very long night.

At 8:00, I was startled by the sound of claws on the bait tree. “Get ready, he’s in the tree,” George whispered. Heart racing, I eased the safety forward and peered through the scope. Looking through the scope, all I could see was black. I took a deep breath and whispered “Ready.” As George turned up the rheostat on the light, I slowly saw the leopard appear dead center in my crosshairs. It’s hard to describe what I felt as the huge, golden cat suddenly seemed to appear out nowhere in my scope. After all the planning and hard work we’d done baiting, I found it really hard to believe that he was actually there. The leopard was stretched out on the branch, quartering slightly away from us. He had pulled the zebra quarter up on the branch and was already feeding. As George whispered, “Shoot” I squeezed the trigger and sent a 168gr. Barnes TSX just behind his shoulder. The shot flipped him out of the tree and we heard him hit the ground. For several minutes following the shot, we could hear him rolling around on the ground and growling. Knowing how fast a wounded leopard can charge and how much damage he can inflict, it was a little unnerving to sit there and listen to him.

After having a nerve claming cigarette, we started back to the truck to get the shotgun, spotlight and trackers. We hadn’t walked more than a hundred yards when we ran into them, already carrying everything we’d need to follow up on the leopard. As we slowly inched up to the bait tree, we spotted him lying on his side directly under the bait. To my surprise, he was still alive. When the spotlight hit him, he weakly raised his head and growled at us. “Shoot him again,” George instructed me. A second shot through the chest finished him.

As we approached him, everyone was excited. My hands shook as I stroked his fur. For the trackers, it meant no more hanging baits, pulling drags and getting their hands covered in “juice.” Leopard hunting is never a sure thing, and I know George was happy to have this part of the trip concluded successfully early on. Tyge got excellent footage of the shot and I got the trophy of a lifetime. Everyone was smiling and shaking hands as we took pictures and loaded the cat on to the truck. As we drove back to camp with the trackers singing loudly, I realized that while this was my first safari, it would definitely not be my last.

Notes: While the leopard was the primary animal I hunted, I actually took eighteen trophy animals during the fourteen days I hunted at Ripple creek. This far exceeded my expectations. While I’m not an experienced African hunter, I felt the overall quality of the trophies I took was excellent. In addition to the leopard, which we measured 16.5″, some of the better trophies I took included a 54.5″ kudu, 32″ waterbuck and a huge bushpig. For a first time hunter looking for plains game, I can’t imagine a better place to start than Lemco.

My primary rifle on this trip was a Territorial Gunsmiths TGL Personal Rifle in .300 Winchester, topped with a 2.5-10 Swarovski PH. Handloads of 168 grain Barnes TSX bullets at 3200 fps completed the package. With its very good light gathering ability and a German #4 reticle, the scope worked very well for low light shooting. Bullet performance was also very good, with all but two shots completely passing through their targets.

Originally Published in African Sporting Gazette 14.1

Tags: hhk safaris, lemco, leopard hunting, zimbabwe