It was dicey, watching the gray shadows lacing in and out of the thick brush. Brush that created a spiky hell for the first time hunter in Africa. As we stalked deeper into the dense bush, sudden silence. The first time in three days I heard the complete absence of sound. Then the rasping of hoofs on the red sandy soil began. That deep rich red dirt that defines Africa. The smell and taste of that red dirt creates a life memory, at times haunting. Quickly as the rasping increased in volume, the powdered red dust drifted in the wind. The hunt suddenly became very personal, I was within a tight semi-enclosed circle, surrounded, as the snorting punctuated the pawing of the hoofs. Wildebeest have formidable horns, and these prehistoric throwbacks were traveling in a large herd we had been stalking for an hour. Snorts on one side, then the other, still not being able to see the beast, they were close enough to imagine the hot breath on your neck. So far I had seen only ghost of shadows snaking through the bush. Occasionally glimpsing part of an animal, never the whole – a hoof maybe part of a leg. Another scrape, then seeing the edge of one horn, an ear and no body.
Standing ready, my long barreled Sharps clenched in sweaty hands, panting from the sheer intensity. I dare not cock the hammer as I moved through the bush in fear that a six inch spine would rip at the trigger. My guide, steady as a rock, directed hand signals to advance, fading to the right. My PH, had picked up this herd an hour earlier, noting a big herd bull’s track. A wildebeest had for years been my primary desired trophy on my first hunt. Here it was, but far more intense than ever imagined. I was in their turf, they knew; I knew. As I moved forward, the herd kept their distance paced. They slid through the spiky brush, easily, noiselessly, leaving shadows within shadows to stalk. Suddenly, almost on them, they surged. A hundred hoofs striking the red dirt, moving swiftly away – still just peripheral shadows flitting through the dense underbrush. Some paused most thundered off. On urgent signaling from the PH, a horn jutted out left from a dense brush, 110 yards or so ahead. The bush was impossible to see through, yet a deep V, carved out of its middle revealed the slabbed side of the trophy blue wildebeest, the herd bull. He could see me, but didn’t think I could see him, in truth, had it not been for the abnormality of his cover he would be invisible. An ear, slip of horn, and the V-shaped over the shoulder were all I had. The tracker planted the shooting sticks, I cocked coming up, hit the set trigger, and as I came on target smoothly fired. The C. Sharp’s finely attuned balance, allows the gun to lay out there reaching for prey. I shot at the bottom of the V in the bush making the shot high and forward at the base of his neck.
The Wildebeest flipped and slammed to the ground; we were already sprinting forward. Levering and rocking my 1874 Sharps back, ejecting the empty brass – then rocking it forward on the run, sliding the second shell home, snapping the lever closed, I cocked and rounded a tree. Seeing the wildebeest down, I snapped fired the second shot home. The blue wildebeest, known as the “poor man’s buffalo,” is hardy, with slabs of dense muscle and thick hard bones. The PH on a first shot, considers them one of the hardest plains game to bring down. PH’s typically have more wounded wildebeest lost than all the other game animals combined, including capes. They survive punishing wounds, and disappear in the bush, with the herd protecting the wounded wildebeest.
A tricky shot, threading a needle at 110 yards, but my blue wildebeest was down for good. My 1874 Sharps in 45-90 impressed everyone, and the Afriakners have exceptionally high standards in firearm appreciation. I chose the Deluxe Bridgeport model with cheek comb, a mid range vernier sight with the largest aperture sighting dish, and nickel blade front site. I highly recommend this combo for hunting in Africa. The 1874 worked perfectly in the bushveld. I was a blank slate when it came to taking a rifle to Africa. The bushveld is exceptionally unfriendly to American magnum calibers, due to the vines, twigs and brush that deflect the high velocity popular calibers. As no shot is over 150 yards, and most are from 50 to 80 yards, a slower moving, large bullet capable of chain sawing through brush while staying on mark is key to successful bushveld hunting. My 45-90 C. Sharps was made to order. All the PH’s typically insist on “hard” bullets, virtually unknown here in the Texas. After a great deal of research, including the very helpful book, The Perfect Shot by Robinson, DVM, I selected a Barnes product. I ended up with 45/70 (.458) semi-spitzer, 400 grain lead core, thick copper jacketed bullet. They are still around, but they are no longer on Barnes price list. It performs very much akin to the Barnes original. It normally retains between 80-90% of its weight making unbelievable wound channels (roughly half dollar size or larger). More importantly with the Sharps, Barnes combination backed by IMR 4064 powder and Federal Match Magnum primers creates an unbelievably accurate load. At 100 yards it would drive tacks. The PH’s were exceptionally impressed with its power and accuracy. I used 60 grains of the 4064, however I must caution this would probably severely damage (if not burst) most Italian clones. This load was built off one for a Ruger #1, and in the 34-inch barrel of the 45-90 whistled along in excess of 2300 feet per second. Branches 3/8 of an inch or less had no impact on its trajectory.
I purchased a loop sling normally used for shotguns: looped it over the barrel and around the stock; thus I could carry the Sharps slung on my shoulder. I never found the 13 pounds of gun overly heavy, and I attribute it to its perfect balance. I took almost all my trophies with my Sharps. A record book trophy Nyla, trophy waterbuck, blue wildebeest, and a record book trophy steenbok (at 130 yards with just the neck and head showing) two impala (one 25 inches) all placed first in Exotic Wildlife Association. I shot from sticks, freehand, and again, the balance allowed the barrel just to lay out there smooth as silk. Against many hunters’ advice, I did use the set trigger, and it allowed me pinpoint accuracy. I have developed a technique of keeping my finger projected straight and away from the trigger after setting the gun. My finger moves in at the point I am pulling to fire in one smooth motion. The thumb rests on the side of the stock, not behind the sight.
I have always dreamed of owning a legendary Sharps Buffalo gun, and of course dreamed of hunting in Africa. I never thought of the two occurring as part of the same hunt. When my PH described the “perfect” bushveld hunting rifle the Sharps moved to the front of the line. One thing I learned in the bush, bullet selection is far more critical than caliber. An elephant was documented as being killed with a solid bullet in a 22 hornet. “It’s the bullet, stupid!” became my mantra. Plains game are tough, and any wounded animal will try to kill you, which happened twice on our safari. Shiloh Sharps made my Africa trip, it has become my hunting weapon of choice, and I now understand why the 1874 will never fall out of popularity. My Sharp through American pride and craftsmanship built a functional work of art without peer, usable literally any place in the world. It’s made its mark. Even in Africa everyone knew exactly what a “Buffalo Gun” was, and it earned every scintilla of respect.
End
Copyright 2012 by David Sefton