Bill sent me this by email. Photos are hopefully coming soon.
Thanks again, for a great story, Bill!
Bullo River Buffalo
Luke pulled the Hilux over to the side of the track and I watched closely to see which way the bulldust drifted, it didn’t, it just hang in the still morning air like, a thick fog. Oh boy, here we go again, I thought.
I had stalked some big lone Buffalo Bulls with my young guide for the past four days and this stalk would be my last, for Buff on the famous Bullo River Station, for this trip at least. I was going to give it all I had!
Bullo River Station is home to Franz and Marlee Ranacher and their two boys Ben and little Franz. Marlee is the oldest daughter of the Australian icon Sara Henderson. Marlee is the new custodian of Bullo and the author of her own book “ BULLO the next generationâ€Â. She’s an amazing lady that has lived an extraordinary life and has the handshake to match it. Franz is a bowhunter himself and I could see his eyes light up when he spotted the longbow. Franz and Marlee made you feel very welcome and at ease at Bullo and right from the start I knew that I was in for a great week.
I was there as one of the test pilots for Australian Big Game Adventures run by Brian and Luke Maher. I was to be the first client to hunt with A.B.G.A. along with Mal, a Melbourne based rifle shooter. Mal drew Brian as his guide and Luke was stuck with me. Both Brian and Luke are bowhunters but had little to do with longbows and wood arrows. Luke had only seen his first Buffalo in the wild three days before I arrived. The boys checked the rifles in near the front gate [which is about 50 km from the homestead] and I was pleased to see that both Luke and Brian could shoot straight with the big 375’s. I must admit, I thought shooting straight at a dead tree and shooting straight at a 1000kg of charging Buff, might be a little different.
We stopped to check out a small waterhole where Brian and Luke had sighted a lone Bull on the way into the airport to pick us up. Sure enough he was still there! This wasn’t how I’d envisioned starting my Buffalo hunt so I offered Mal first crack. The Buff was a good mature Bull but Mal wanted to hold out for one a little bigger. He looked big and mean enough for my liking, so after parking the Hilux well back downwind I strung the longbow and had a couple of practice shots. I then loaded my bowquiver with four 770gn-hardwood arrows that I’d hand planned out of Quilia and tipped with 145gn Grizzly heads. These were razor sharp and covered with vaseline. Luke loaded some solids into the 375 and I told the crew what I had in mind. It was a simple plan, which is most often the best. The Buff was now feeding into a light breeze on the other side of a near dry watercourse. I would sneak across the gully and up behind the Buff, wait until he fed broadside or quartering away and shoot him in the chest at under twenty paces. I wanted Luke well behind me and to my left should things become untidy. I would go right and yell and he would calmly drop the Buff in its tracks with a brain or spine shot. I felt that there was more chance of getting run over by the rubbish truck at home [until I stuck a splinter into him that is] then getting done in by this Buff but it’s always good to have a plan B.
Brian and Mal were to stay well back and video with my camera, Luke would have his video but was to leave it running on the tripod when I was close. I would turn my hat up when I was about to shoot. I removed my rubber wetsuit boots when I was still eighty metres away as the ground was dry and noisy. I nocked an arrow when I was thirty metres off the Buff . At twenty he turned his head my way and gave me the once over. I stood there frozen like a stature. The sweat was running into my eyes and stinging like hell but I tried not to blink. I’d camoed my face and hands which I was rather glad of at that moment as he soon lost interest in me, turned away and went back to feeding. I wiped the sweat from my eyes and swallowed for the first time for a while. Without moving my head I had a quick look at the ground, three more steps along the pad and I’ll bust him. Then I felt the cool tickle on the back of my neck. Suddenly we were face to face again but this time he took a whole lot more interest in me. He gave me that look, not as if I owed him money, more like I’d just bashed his dear old grandmother with a baseball bat! I wasn’t going to make it to that tree and hell it was on my left and that wasn’t part of plan B. Frontal shot, not in my league at twenty paces and not at five for that matter. He had his head held high and I could see his nostrils flare, one more whiff was enough for him. He turned and bolted the other way. I swallowed but there seemed to be a couple of extra lumps caught in my throat. The game was up and now that he had smelt and sighted me I knew I had next to no chance of stalking him again that day, so we headed for the Hilux.
A day later, I stalked a big bedded Buff to a measured fourteen paces and had turned my hat back and was about to put a splinter into him when the bloody fickle breeze did it’s thing to me, once again. Luke was back across the creek and although I didn’t have a back up behind me I did have a good size tree within twenty paces. I figured if I shot the bull he would go the way he was pointing for a bit before turning to see who had stuck him, by then I’d be part of the tree and would not have given my crock knees a thought. He did the same as all the other lone Buff did when they smelt me, ran out about fifty metres and then walked back head held high, nostrils flaring, until he got another good whiff, then he was gone in a cloud of dust.
We had some close encounters on both Buffalo as well as Scrub bulls and I stalked a few good Boars but only threw rocks at them and not arrows. There was a trophy fee on Boars and I could shoot plenty at home at no cost besides I wanted to spend as much time hunting the Buff as possible. Luke and I hunted hard from daylight to dark in the Sandstone ridges with temperatures reaching 45 degrees Celsius. Our saviour was the crystal clear springs that seeped out of the escarpments of the East Kimberly ranges on the west-side of the Bullo. It was two of the toughest days hunting I have done anywhere but hell I loved it! Luke did it even harder as he was carrying the 375 and the video but he did manage to lighten the load a little by leaving our lunch back at the homestead. [sorry mate, it slipped out] He’s a top young bloke and he gave the hunt his heart and sole. Each night as we sat down to dinner we always had our share of stories to tell and plenty of laughs. I must say that on those two nights when Marlee handed me that first beer it had to be the best beer ever brewed!
Mal had missed a huge Buffalo bull on the second morning but had shot a lone Buffalo bull with the end broken off one horn later that afternoon. By using the UHF hand held radios Luke and I had caught up with them near dark. Before we helped butcher the Buff I paced off fifteen and put one of my hardwood arrows in his chest just above centre and angling slightly forward. My arrow buried a third of the way up the fletchers into the Buff’s hind and was wedged into the shoulder or off-side rib. This seemed to impress Franz, the guides and even Mal. It was also good for my confidence!
Now back to the last morning. I checked for any breeze with my film container full of powder. A slight drift from the East was all we had to work with. By now we were working as a team. Luke knew exactly what I was going to do and I hoped, I knew what he was going to do. We bend over and headed East through the long grass hoping the bull was still there. I found him in the binoculars right where I’d last seen him and we began the stalk in ernest. At a hundred metres I dropped my bum-pack and removed my wetsuit boots. I hung my boots in a low fork so I could find them later. I reinforced to Luke that I was going to get real close and that I wouldn’t shoot until I had the right angle and not to fire the 375 unless I yelled. I assured him that if it were needed, he would hear me O.K.
In the glasses I could see that the Buff was actually dozing in the shade, if only the wind would hold, I’d have a good chance. At sixty metres I eased in behind a bush and removed my socks I’d be able to feel the sticks better without them. I found a pad with less dry leaves and more dust. I dropped to a crawl and slowly closed the gap. The Buff was still dozing but was quartering on to me slightly. By picking the sticks and big leaves off the pad I was easing slowly forward with little noise. My hat and head were about the only things visible above the grass. There was no thought of my knees, the thorns or Luke. I was totally engrossed with delivering an arrow into this bull’s chest, that much so that I was totally calm. At fifteen metres the bull opened his eyes and glanced my way but could only see a hat size lump in the grass. He turned his head back and resumed dozing. I needed to move to the right so as I could get a broadside shot. I knew it was only a matter of time before he winded me, I had to go for broke. Easing the bow out in front and staying as low as possible I worked my way to the right, until both his front legs were in -line. I was in a small clearing in the grass, fifteen paces from a huge bull with heavy horns, it was the moment of truth! By feel alone, I eased an arrow on the string, never once taking my eyes off the Buff. I began to focus everything I had on the dimple at the back edge of his shoulder a third of the way down from the top of his back. I would draw and raise the bow almost horizontal to the ground and when my hand touched my face the arrow would be gone. I had practiced this shot a hundred times, this time it would be for real!
At times like this, life and the gods of the hunt can deal you a rough hand or a full house, I got the rough hand! It was that same old breeze that had haunted me from day one and if I was a betting man I’d say it saved that bull’s life. I stalked that bull twice more in my barefeet over the next two hours but the best I got was twenty metres and a bad angle. When I finally admitted defeat and walked back to Luke he seemed more pumped up then I was. He told me, that he’d got the entire first stalk on video and some real good still shots and after looking at it back at the homestead, he was right. Thanks to Luke I’ll be able to relive that Buffalo hunt for years to come, I only hope the video was on the tripod when things were getting tight and cosy, I never asked!
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Bullo River Buffalo (Bill Baker)
Moderator: Moderators
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Buffalo
Thanks for the kind words guys, i enjoyed writting it. What about a bit of a story from you ds? I know we'd all love to hear about your hunt as any Buff hunt's got a hell of a lot to do with the hunter and not what bows in his hand. 
Hey Mark good to see ya there mate, I tell ya what you get 'em in a headlock and i'll shoot 'em
Hey Mark good to see ya there mate, I tell ya what you get 'em in a headlock and i'll shoot 'em
You'd be right at home up here stalking grizzly bears. 
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Silverfox.
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