Campfire Thoughts & Reminiscences Part 15

Written by Neil Harmse

 

 

Chapter 16. A Storm to Remember

 

Living in the bush has its memorable moments, as well as its problems and dangers, but the dangers are not always from wild animals. One of the most frightening moments during my time living in the bush was caused by the elements generating a storm of frightening proportions. In February of 1984, the tropical cyclone Domoina had developed from Madagascar and crossed over Mozambique, through Swaziland, (then) Zululand and parts of the eastern Lowveld, leaving a trail of devastating destruction across the region. Fortunately, the storm just brushed along the southern Kruger Park, which did not suffer the full effects of the might of the cyclone.

 

About 18 months after this cyclone, having recovered and repaired the damage caused, and with worries about these storm systems all but forgotten, we carried on with life as normal. I happened to be at home with my family for a few days and not in the bush on control work or patrol. The day was very hot and humid, and the children were cooling off in the pool when my wife, Sue, pointed westwards and said the sky was unusually dark, with black clouds rolling in. We felt there was a heavy thunderstorm and possibly rain and hail on the way. Sue asked Janet to collect the cushions from the garden chairs, which were being blown around and on her way back to the house, the wind actually blew her off her feet. We called the children inside, brought the dogs into the house as well, and decided to get a pot of coffee on the boil and wait it out.

 

Not long after settling in the house, the wind started gusting with a force that rattled windows and doors. The sky became very dark, almost night-time black, and soon large drops of rain splattered against the windows and roof. Then the hail started, small at first, but then the stones increased to the size of golf balls. In the dark and rain, there was no way of getting outside to start the generator so that we could switch the lights on, so we simply lit a few Dietz lanterns and, with coffee and biscuits, decided to simply sit out the storm, as there was nothing else to do. The hail sounded like gunshots hammering and banging against the windows and on the corrugated iron roof of the house. With all the noise, conversation was impossible. I must admit that I was very worried and frightened, as this was the worst storm I had ever experienced, but I was trying to keep calm to show the children that there was nothing to be scared of. Sue and I, both very concerned, tried to make light of the situation to prevent them from panicking.

Our roof destroyed in the storm with hail on the ground.

Janet, who was about six years old at the time, wanted to get one of her dolls from her room. She had barely reached the passage when a terrible screeching and tearing sound seemed to come from all around. I ran through the house to the bedrooms and was shocked to see the sky above. The roof was ripping loose and peeling off overhead. It was really a frightening experience! Hail and rain were simply pouring into the house from overhead. The children were now in total panic and I must admit that I was not far off myself. In a situation such as this, where you have no control, it is truly terrifying. Sue and I grabbed the children, ran to the dining room and climbed onto the dining table. Water was flooding like a river down the passage through the house and out of the veranda and kitchen doors.

After what seemed like hours, but in reality could not have been more than 30 minutes or so, the storm appeared to decline in force and the rain and hail seemed to be stopping. The house inside was in a total shambles. Furniture, bedding and everything inside was drenched, carpets, mats, lion and leopard skins on the floors had been washed into heaps against the walls and doors, and ankle-deep water was still flowing through the house.

 

Once we could venture outside, the damage was quite a shock. One section of the house roof had ripped and peeled off and the ceiling covers inside were gone. The carport was blown away and the dog kennel had been lifted by the wind and dumped onto the bonnet of my Range Rover. A large acacia tree had broken off and wound up in the swimming pool. Our veggie garden and flowerbeds were virtually gone. Everything was in chaos. When we could eventually drive to the other side of the farm, we saw that other houses had suffered the same fate as ours and the farm school for staff children was totally missing its roof, which had been completely ripped off the structure.

 

Once you have experienced the power that nature can unleash, you realise how very vulnerable and powerless we mere humans are against the elements. Only by God’s grace and mercy are we protected from harm in a situation such as this. I admit that I was really scared facing this force: I would rather face a charging elephant, buffalo or lion than ever have to go through anything like that again.

The school building without a roof.

The roof blown off living quarters.

To order Campfire Thoughts & Reminiscences – the complete book with illustrations (US $15 excluding S&H), contact Andrew Meyer at andrewisikhova@icloud.com

Classic and Contemporary African Hunting Literature

From the Cape to Kasserine: Ten Years of African Hunting 2007 – 2016

Craig Boddington (Safari Press, 2018, 324 pages.)
Reviewed by Ken Bailey

 

This is the fourth book in Craig Boddington’s series describing his African hunting adventures; he writes one every decade, but for my money this is the best yet. Boddington is without doubt the preeminent contemporary writer of African hunting tales, and reading From the Cape to Kasserine it’s easy to understand why. To begin, his writing style is never pretentious; it’s simple, down to earth, easy reading. You never have to work, you can simply sit back and enjoy.

 

Boddington also avoids the self-worshipping so many others fall prey to. He’s typically very self-effacing, not shy about relating his blown stalks, missed shots, or his fear of snakes. In essence, he’s just like the rest of us, and that relatability is in large measure why so many enjoy his books. Boddington is also enjoying a hunting life many of us aspire to, and living vicariously through his exploits helps get us through those long winter nights.

 

In From the Cape to Kasserine you’ll find the usual suspects you’ve come to expect from one of Boddington’s books. He describes his varied hunts in South Africa, Zimbabwe, Zambia, Mozambique and Tanzania, of course, but lesser destinations include Cameroon, Ghana, Uganda, Tunisia, Liberia and Burkina Faso, among others, are also included. Given the breadth of the destinations, it’s little wonder that the hunts described run the gamut from aardvarks to zebra. Literally. Whether your dream animal is an elephant or a tiny royal antelope, there’s a story here that will pique your interest.

 

One of the other great features of Boddington’s books is that his natural interest in the history, geography and ecology of the places he visits shines through. The reader will come away from each tale not just entertained, but a little more informed for their effort; Boddington doesn’t focus solely on the hunt as too many others do. From the Cape to Kasserine is also liberally sprinkled with wonderful photos that support the stories while concurrently providing a little hunter’s eye cand

Campfire Thoughts & Reminiscences Part 14

Written by Neil Harmse

 

 

Chapter 15. Geoff’s Lion and Baboon

 

A good friend of mine has always had a yearning to shoot a lion. When I was involved with problem animal control, Geoff kept asking me to call him if there was an opportunity to join me and perhaps get a shot at one of the problem animals that kept raiding and killing livestock. I told him it was not really a hunt, but more a matter of shooting problem animals. Nevertheless, he wanted to accompany me and hopefully have a chance of bagging a lion for his trophy room.

 

I knew that Geoff was an experienced hunter and I felt there would be no problems if he accompanied me on a foray against the cattle-killing lion. He had his own business in Johannesburg, so he would be able to drop everything and drive down to Malelane at short notice, if necessary.

 

The estate had a large section allocated as a ‘game’ area, with a few valuable species such as roan antelope, tsessebe, zebra, kudu, impala, giraffe and other animals.

 

One rather persistent lion continually broke through the perimeter fence and kept killing the game animals. After two of the roan had been killed, we decided that this lion had to be removed, as it had also caught and eaten two heifers from the cattle kraal.

 

I received a report that a zebra had been caught and partially eaten in the game camp. There was still a lot of meat on the carcass and I felt the lion would return the following day. I immediately called Geoff, who was excited and did some very low flying in his BMW, reaching the farm in about four-and-a-half hours.

 

He brought along a .375 over-and-under double rifle, which he had bought, but never hunted with. In sighting the rifle, we found that it would not group and one barrel consistently shot about 15-20cm high at 50m. I was not happy about this, but Geoff wanted to shoot his lion with the gun and said he would compensate for the height. I felt that with me backing him, it would be fine.

 

We started out early the next morning and found that the lion had not fed. On following the tracks, we saw that it had returned to the Kruger side of the river. With a bit of luck, it would return late that afternoon and we would hopefully get a shot at it over the kill. I did not want to cut branches and vegetation from nearby, in case it alerted the lion, so we brought some leafy vegetation and reeds from the river bank and built a small hide about 30m from the zebra carcass. We moved into the hide at about 3.30pm and made ourselves comfortable to await the lion’s return.

Geoff and the lion.

After about two hours, with the sun starting to go down, we heard baboon barks towards the river and I whispered to Geoff that the lion was possibly on its way. Just as it was getting dark, I could hear soft grunts from the lion. Then it suddenly seemed to materialise from nowhere and was standing on the far side of the carcass. I gripped Geoff’s arm, indicating that he should hold his fire. Then, as the lion moved around and stood broadside on, I signalled Geoff to take a shot. At the report of the shot, the lion spun around and collapsed.

I told Geoff to shoot again. His next shot went over the lion and into the bush. I was unsure about the first shot, even

though there was no movement from the lion. We approached cautiously, Geoff with his rifle and I with my .357 Magnum revolver in one hand and my rifle in the other. From about 2m away, I saw a movement: the lion was trying to lift its head. I immediately fired the revolver into the lion’s head, which ended matters once and for all.  

 

Geoff was very excited about his lion, but commented that his prize, trophy skull mount would have a big hole in the top of its head. Well, rather the lion than me! On examination, we found that the first shot from the side had also been a bit high and had clipped the spine, paralysing the animal, but not killing it.

 

While he was down on the farm, Geoff decided he could do with a good baboon trophy for his trophy room. There were many baboons in the area, which caused a lot of damage to the fruit crops and sugar cane. These creatures were extremely cunning and not easy to approach for a shot. They always had lookouts to warn the troop of anyone trying to approach and, at any alarm, would charge over the border fence and into the safety of the Kruger Park, where they knew they could not be shot.

 

We tried for about three days to get near, but without luck. I suggested that we try an ambush manoeuvre, where I would drive along the edge of the sugar cane land and slow down to allow Geoff to jump out and hide in the bushes. I would then drive away to attract the attention of the lookout baboons. With a bit of luck, he would get a long range shot with his .270 and have his hard-earned trophy. As I drove away, I could see the troop moving back and scaling the fence into the lands. I drove up to the crest of a small koppie and, with binoculars, watched the antics and movements below. A big male baboon decided to perch on top of one of the poles of the boundary fence. Watching him from quite a long way off, I saw him fling his arms and topple over 

Geoff with the baboon showing a bandaged knee.

before I heard the shot. Unfortunately, he had fallen onto the wrong side of the fence. Theoretically, the centre of the river was the actual border between the park and the farm, so Geoff dashed over the fence to retrieve his trophy. However, in his excitement and hurry, he tripped on the top wire and took a nasty fall into the park side, almost on top of the baboon. He grabbed the carcass and threw it over, but while trying to stand and climb, he could not use his leg. I eventually helped him over, but he was in a lot of pain and his knee was swelling rapidly.

 

With a crêpe bandage and a few pain-killers from my first aid kit, I managed to get him into the vehicle and back to the house, where I cleaned and again bandaged the leg and knee, then rushed him to the doctor in town. The damage appeared to be more in the tendons below the knee, though there was also damage to the knee itself.

 

Eventually, when Geoff returned to Johannesburg, he had to undergo an operation and quite a bit of physiotherapy, resulting in many doctor’s bills. However, with his inimitable sense of humour, he always tells his friends and visitors that the baboon trophy on the wall was the most expensive animal he ever shot!

To order Campfire Thoughts & Reminiscences – the complete book with illustrations (US $15 excluding S&H), contact Andrew Meyer at andrewisikhova@icloud.com

Jason Stone: Inch By Inch, A Trophy Hunter of 25 Years

A 67-inch kudu bull from Limpopo, South Africa.

Written by Richard Lendrum

 

Since record books started and inches measured, some believe this has been a curse on the hunting industry. For many, it is their way of distinguishing themselves, to prove something, be it for themselves as a massive achievement, a reward, demonstrating to their peers, or simply seeking acknowledgement by distinguishing themselves from the rest.

 

Like or not, respect it or not, it is part of our industry. And one African Dawn member has managed to deliver across a broad range of species to the envy and dislike of some, and the sheer admiration of others – particularly those inch-seeking international big-game hunters. After much time, on the anniversary of his 25 years in business, I finally managed to get Jason Stone, (older brother of Clinton and co-owner of Stone Hunting Safaris), to shed a little light on who is behind this professional hunter. A hunter who in the world of records and inches, seems to have delivered big time.

 

From way back when, for as far back as I can remember I was always fascinated with animals and coming up with tools to hunt them. It must have been my inner caveman or simply that hunting was just part of my DNA. It would be difficult to say that one single person inspired me to become a professional hunter. I grew up and was fortunate that all my early friends had similar interests to me. For example, one of our finest inventions was the blow pipe, and we made this from plastic PVC pipe. You would roll squares of shiny magazine paper into cones, put a nail through the center and sticky tape the nail to the cone so that the nail would not push back on impact. The cone would be cut off to size, for the diameter of the PVC pipe. We would hit the front of the nail flat with a hammer and with the angle grinder sharpen the point in the shape of an assegai. For front sights we would cut a khoki pen (felt-tip marker) in half and tape it to the front of the PVC pipe like a scope on a rifle. These blow pipes were seriously lethal and accounted for hundreds of white-eye birds and doves. One morning while walking to junior school we noticed some mighty fine racing pigeons in an aviary. I marched on up, put my blow pipe through the wire mesh and planted one. Unbeknown to me this bird belonged to my mom’s boss at the time. Boy, did we get into trouble for that episode. At one stage or another one of my friends always had a pellet gun available that had not been confiscated by the parents. So, we were always shooting at something.

My first 60-inch kudu bull taken some 25 plus years ago.

Zambia is known for big lion. This brute was no exception.

One of my most memorable hunts was a 21-day full bag hunt in an area called Ngarambe which is just to the south of the Selous Game Reserve in Tanzania. We had taken our lion / leopard and three grand old buffalo bulls early in the hunt but were struggling to find a good elephant bull. I was hoping to get the elephant as soon as possible so that I could go home early as my wife was pregnant and was due in the next few weeks. Every night when I got back to camp I would hook up the satellite phone to the Cruiser battery, point it to the East and call my wife to see how it was going. I was always relieved to hear that my daughter had not been born yet. A few days later, early in the morning as luck would have it, we bumped into a mighty fine elephant bull. I had previously hunted elephant with the same client, a very good guy and still one of my all-time favorite clients to this day. On the previous hunt we got right up on a good elephant bull at around 10 yards or so and our hunter tried a full-frontal shot, the only option available to us. His shot was a bit low. We were very close to the bull and the terrain was such that the only way the elephant could go was straight at us. While the elephant was regaining its composure, I noticed our hunter was a bit slow in firing his second barrel. Self-preservation kicked in and I shot the elephant at the same time as the client and down it went. He was not very impressed that I had shot. Fast forward to the elephant above. Our client made it very clear I was not to shoot unless we were all about to get trampled and then only if I was sure that I would die first. Our client gave the tracker his video camera to video the hunt. As we approached the elephant I gave the tracker my rifle and took the camera. I figured it would be better for me to video the hunt rather than even contemplate shooting our clients elephant again. We got to about 25 yards and I told our man to pop it on the shoulder. At the shot the elephant turned and came running at us at great speed. I remember putting down the camera, nice and gentle, so that I did not get into trouble for buggering up the camera. I got my rifle and as the bull passed us at about ten yards the hunter shot it again and down it went. All smiles. The camera was on record for the entire hunt and made for some great footage. When we got to camp I found out that my wife had had our daughter early that morning and I had missed it. Just about every single year from then on I have shot an elephant bull on or around my birthday or my daughter’s birthday which are two days apart. September is now a lucky elephant month for me.

 

In my career I have had a number of close encounters with dangerous game but, touch wood, have always been lucky enough to come out on top. In 2010 I was savagely mauled by a wounded lion, had 168 staples put in my leg to close all the holes and spent a month in hospital. In 2019 I was run over by a crazy buffalo cow in an unprovoked charge. I was not carrying my rifle that day. If there is one lesson you should learn it is always carry your own rifle in dangerous-game country.

The holy grail of Vaal Rhebuck both horns over 11 inches!

A huge Zambezi Sitatunga this one from Zambia. Both horns over 32 inches.

That time I got run over by the crazy buffalo cow in Zambia – 2019.

Most of our clientele is from the USA. America is without doubt the greatest country on the planet- they have the same sense of humor as us, they speak English, and most of them can shoot very straight. God bless America! You are very unlikely to have an American walk into your booth at convention and ask you to guide him / her on a hunt where they can shoot the smallest buffalo in Africa. Early on in my career I learnt that if we could consistently produce above-average trophies, we would be able to create a niche for ourselves in the safari industry that would create a demand for our services that would separate us from our competition. I have learnt not to worry about what the competition is doing but to focus on what we are doing and our business. When your competition is talking about you, it makes no difference if they say good things or bad things. When they are talking about you it’s because you are successful. Most people do not want to see you being successful. It’s only when your clientele starts speaking badly about you that you know you have real problems. Make sure you keep your clients happy and not the competition. We do not focus on what our competition is doing. It takes time out of our day that I would rather invest in our own business. I also figured out in my early days that the SCI record book was a great marketing tool. Hunters researching a hunt could see where the best place was to hunt and which outfitter to use. I always tried to get my clients to enter their trophies in the SCI record book, irrespective of the size of the trophy, to promote our brand and because SCI is a staunch supporter of conservation. The late great Cotton Gordon had the most record book entries in the SCI record book. When I was younger it was my goal to get more entries in the record book than he had. When someone opens up a record book and your name features dominantly, it is not going to hurt your business. This is some insight into my thinking and marketing strategy when I started out. As you get older your goals and focus change. I no longer have any desire to beat the number of entries Cotton Gordon has in the book. My focus is on finding the best areas to hunt and giving our clientele that next level hunting experience.

 

Before I qualified as a PH I was an apprentice hunter for the late Jack Rall. I guided a few of his clients before I got my PH license. I remember hunting a massive 33- or 34-inch blue wildebeest with one of his Hungarian clients in the Alldays area of South Africa. That is where it all started for me with my desire to find the biggest. On that same hunt a 60-inch kudu bull followed the wildebeest to the salt pit. For some reason, from then onwards, I have always been incredibly lucky when it comes to hunting and that has been one of my greatest assets throughout my career as a professional hunter. Don’t get me wrong I have always been that PH to leave camp first and get back last. Even today I still want to be the first PH out of camp. For me the great Gary Player sums it up the best – the harder you work the luckier you get!

 

Jason’s Trophy Gallery

Click the image to view it in full screen

Leopard Hunt – Podcast

Caption: Rudolph Stephan, Tim and Mary Sylvester.

By Richard Lendrum

 

I was talking with Tim and Mary Sylvester when they were out on their safari and somehow the conversation turned to recalling a previous hunt they had done – a leopard in Zimbabwe almost 7 years ago. I said hold it there, I want to try something – and got my recorder. It is a but rough, and my first, but I’m hoping that this is something that could work.

 

Listen to a short account of Tim’s leopard hunt…

 

Transcript

February 5th 2023, nearly 7 years later, over dinner at Afton, Tim recalled the experience as if it was yesterday. His South African PH Rudi Stephen Zimbabwean PH, Ian Rutledge and hound handler, the late Theuns Botha – all in pursuit of Africa’s greatest cat.

Ian was carrying a Ruger Redhawk, it’s a double action stainless steel gun, and a .44 magnum, and he had a side by side 20-gauge, which had buckshot. And then he had a pretty good size knife.

 

Rudolph had a pack on and he had a Remington 870 and he had it stuck through his pack, and we’re just walking through the grass. Earlier in the morning they found some tracks and we were on the other side of the preserve, so we go over there as fast as we possibly can, and it’s just barely light and they start tracking it, and they turned the dogs loose. The dogs take off, and we’re tracking it and we’re just meandering, going everywhere, just through the creek twice up, around here, down over there, and we were walking and walking, and it’s getting light out, and of course the trackers, they walk with their head down and their hands behind their back.

 

And just walk, and very carefully, and then they would stop once in a while and one would point at something and the other one would shake his head, and then they would keep going. It was really cool. So we’re walking along and it’s light out there, but maybe not even 7 o’clock, 6:40, 6:45.

 

Yeah, early.

 

Early. So we hear one dog barking, fairly close, but we can’t see him.

 

How many dogs were there in the pack?

I think there was… I don’t know, 8, 10 – quite a few dogs. It was a pretty good pack, but we just heard one dog barking. So we kept walking up through the grass, and the grass is not quite waist-high, it’s up to your thigh. And the trees are kind of just here and there. And so we hear this dog barking, so we’re walking in that direction because that’s the direction the trackers are going also. So we get up there and we come around this tree and there’s a leopard 20 yards away in the tree; and the dog isn’t excited, he’s just barking but it’s like he’s just barking to bark, and not like he’s excited.

 

Oh no, he’s just… he’s doing his job. I mean, no, you’d think he’d be more excited. And it caught us flatfoot, absolutely. I can remember saying a few words, and they weren’t very Christian. And Rudolph said, I only heard, put a round into my rifle, just (snaps fingers) like that. And Rudi turned and tugged the shotgun out of his pack, and I then lost track of Ian at that point, and so this leopard just… he sees us and he lets out this ungodly scream, just… I mean, if it doesn’t get to you, if it doesn’t scare them, nothing will – nothing will on this planet, will scare you like that. The scream! And he leaps out of the tree at the dog; and the dog, not his first rodeo, he steps aside, the leopard runs through the grass. Well, I said the grass is thigh-high…

 

Of course.

…we can’t see a damn thing. And so, I’ve got the rifle pointed right here, so if this leopard comes just directly at me, I’ve got a chance. If he comes from any other direction, I’m going to get… yeah, it’s going to be bad. And then suddenly, all of the dogs show up. Everybody else shows up. Everybody’s yelling, all the other dogs are barking like crazy and it’s absolute… it’s pandemonium. It’s crazy. Everybody’s gone wild. And the leopard goes up another tree and they said, ‘Shoot him, shoot him, shoot him!’ And I can’t get a good, clear line of sight on him where I can make a clean shot, because (sighs) what’s been impressed from years ago, back in the 70’s, reading Capstick is, you don’t want to wound the leopard. So I want to make a good shot. So, this leopard jumps out of that tree, and like I said, to me, all I can hear is screaming, barking and the cat growling, and it’s just gone crazy. ‘Shoot him, shoot him, shoot him!’ And I can’t shoot yet, can’t see, because he goes up the third tree and he’s about maybe 60 yards away. And I brought a Marlin 1895 model in, 45/70 which I customised because Rudi says it’s going to be close, you want to put a big hole in him and you want something that’s quick. So I had this short little 45/70. So the tracker passes me my 300. I can’t really get another good line on him. And Rudi looks at me and gives me this look that he is really kind of irritated with me, and he said, ‘Here!’ And he taps his hands three times,  taps on his shoulder, and I go up, and I put the rifle on his shoulder and the scope is on the leopard. Three seconds later, I pull the trigger and the leopard drops out stone dead, didn’t even flinch. And now… and it’s quiet. But everybody now was beating me on the back, telling me what a great shot it was, telling me I’m the biggest hero. And a couple of minutes later, I mean, earlier… I mean, ‘Shoot that!’ and everybody screaming at me. And now…

 

I’m the hero. And I’m shaking like crazy. I mean, I’m just shaking. I can do good at drama. Oh yes, I can do that well. And so, Rudi -when we shoot something that can kill us back – Rudi gives me a cigarette. I don’t smoke, but after… well, after a minute we were able, because of my shaking, we were able to get the cigarette lit. I smoked the cigarette in four drags. Just … (inhales). And they bring the trucks up, Rudi gives me a beer. By now it’s like 7:15 or something, and I’m spilling out the beer, but I’m drinking the beer, shaking. And everybody’s just picking up that this is the greatest day on earth. And then Theuns brings his truck up, or somebody brings it up for him, one of his guys, and he brings out this enormous flask of brandy, and they line up all these little cups, and we’re all going to toast the leopard. But Theuns is like me – he is shaking like a leaf. He can’t pour the brandy. So Rudi steps up, Rudi pours everybody a brandy, and we toast the leopard. And by that time, I’m starting to come back down to earth; I’m not in outer space anymore. But it was tremendous. It was wild. But when he was in that grass, you couldn’t see him – it was just…terrifying. Yeah. Just… you know, you’re there, and you’re there for a purpose, so you’re not going to run, you’re not going to run,  you know, (sighs) sit down and cry like a baby – you know what you have to do, but… yeah, it’s serious. Serious shit. So, yeah, we took the pictures, and it was a good day.

 

7 years later, Tim & Mary Sylvester are on another safari with Rudolph – this time in pursuit of interesting creatures like a honey badger and a few remaining members for Mary to finish the Tiny 10.

 

Classic and Contemporary African Hunting Literature

Africa’s Most Dangerous

Kevin Robertson (Safari Press, 2007, 244 pages.)
Reviewed by Ken Bailey

 

Much of African hunting literature is of the “Me and Joe” variety, books chock-full of tales describing the hunting adventures of the author. On occasion, however, someone pens a well-researched “how-to” book that is intended to inform, rather than entertain. And on very rare occasions, that book is so thorough and well-written that it is destined to become a classic. Such if the case with Kevin Robertson’s Africa’s Most Dangerous – The Southern Buffalo (Syncerus cafer cafer.)

 

Kevin Robertson is a familiar name to anyone with more than a passing interest in contemporary African hunting, and his experiences as a veterinarian, PH, rancher, researcher and author make him uniquely qualified to make meaningful comment on virtually every aspect of it. Many will know him from his earlier books, among them The Perfect Shot and The Perfect Shot II, which should be required reading for all hunters before their first African safari.

 

Robertson’s long-held passion for buffalo originated when, as a veterinarian, he was active in controlling hoof and mouth disease as part of the Zimbabwean government’s interest in protecting the country’s beef exports to the European Union. This required considerable engagement with the disease’s host, the southern buffalo. Africa’s Most Dangerous is a compilation of all that Robertson learned about buffalo through the many phases of his professional life, and is the ultimate “how-to” guide for hunting these iconic animals.

 

As might be expected of someone with a scientific background, there’s not a lot of ambiguity here; Robertson states his opinions with the confidence of one who’s been there and done that; he knows whereof he speaks. He goes to great lengths to teach the reader about buffalo before he ever delves into discussion about hunting them—their ecology, distribution and anatomy are all covered in detail. Do you struggle differentiating cows from bulls, or evaluating trophy quality? You won’t after reading Robertson’s descriptions. Robertson has made a name for himself as an advocate for hunting old, mature bulls rather than succumbing to the appeal of shooting a wide, potentially high-scoring bull that yet to experience his prime breeding years. You’ll learn how to tell a past-his-prime bull from an up-and-comer, and why Robertson believes so passionately that we should target only the oldest.

 

As would be expected in a book about hunting buffalo, Robertson dedicates a lot of space to his recommendations for rifle, cartridge, bullet and optics choices. His cartridge evaluations, in particular, are supported by a detailed examination and listing of sectional density, KO values, recoil energy and more, once again revealing his reliance on science to support his opinion.

 

The chapter on shot placement is a must-read for every buffalo hunter and is supported by photos with drawings of skeletal and organ locations superimposed. Borrowing from his The Perfect Shot books, at a glance he reveals exactly where to aim to stop a charging buff, and where, precisely, to aim at buffalo standing at every conceivable angle. Bowhunters aren’t ignored here, either; he illustrates where to place your arrow for maximum effect.

 

Other insightful chapters deal with subjects as diverse as recommended accessories/clothes to pack, how to prepare both mentally and physically to hunt buffalo, and what to expect on a typical, or not so typical, day’s hunt. He also addresses the often contentious issue of if, when and how a PH should back-up a client, and how to handle your trophy to ensure it arrives home in pristine condition.

 

No book on buffalo would be complete without a section on what to expect and how to respond when you have a wounded buffalo to sort out, and Robertson doesn’t disappoint. While not underplaying the danger involved, his matter-of-fact recommendations and advice actually have a calming effect; anyone having to settle a wounded buffalo would do well to read this just before heading in to the thick stuff.

 

One of the wonderful qualities of Africa’s Most Dangerous is the absolutely superb selection of phots. There are lots of them, and they’ve clearly been purposefully selected to support the text; you won’t read anything that isn’t reinforced and explained with clear images.

 

The dangerous game animal that most hunters pursue first in Africa is the Cape buffalo. Some shoot only one or two before moving on to other dangerous game, while for others, their first buffalo leads to an addiction they can never shake. Robertson clearly has that bug, and he quotes no less than Robert Ruark when he states, “But such is his (the buffalo’s) fascination that, once you’ve hunted him, you are dissatisfied with other game, up to and including elephant.”

 

Whether dreaming of your first buffalo hunt, addicted to them, or somewhere in between, you owe it to yourself to read Africa’s Most Dangerous.


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