News Archives - Page 16 of 24

Campfire Thoughts & Reminiscences Part 4

May 16, 2022 | Archive, News, News

Written by Neil Harmse

Facing charges

During my bush life, I have always been very careful when dealing with animals that can hurt me, so it is not too often that I find myself in a sticky situation. Once, on a Botswana hunting concession known as Khurunxaraga bordering to the west of Chief’s Island in the Okavango, I found myself hunting with two friends whom I shall call Chris and Vic. It was a hunt that almost ended in disaster.

Chris was the managing partner of a safari operation in Botswana and Vic was a Johannesburg businessman and gun collector. We had taken a general game licence each and two supplementary licences for buffalo. This was in the good old days, when it cost R50 per buffalo. Vic was carrying a Holland and Holland Royal 500/.465 which he had recently bought and wanted to use on his buffalo. He had some packets of Kynoch ammunition that came with the gun. I had my .450 NE Army and Navy double, and Chris had his .375 H&H. More than enough firepower. Against my better judgement, Vic insisted that a tracker we had employed in Maun, whose abilities we did not know, carry a .404… ‘just in case’! We thus set off on our buffalo hunt.

At about 9am, we found fresh tracks at a waterhole and caught up with a group of five bulls in a small clearing. Vic was to have the first shot, so he lined up his Holland. Click… boom! A hang-fire! A bull was hit high on the shoulder – too high for any real structural damage. The bulls turned and ran into the combretum scrub, the wounded one leaving a light, but visible blood trail. Following him in the soft, sandy soil was fairly easy, but every time we caught up with him, he was in stunted scrub mopane or combretum all about chest- to shoulder-high, so all we could see were his legs or sometimes the top of his horns – his vital targets being obscured by the dense bush. He would stand for a while and then run off to another spot. This carried on for a few hours, until everyone was exhausted and very tense. The two trackers had moved quite far ahead and I was on the point of calling them 24 back when a shot went off and they both came running back, shouting that they had shot the buffalo. The tracker with the .404 had spotted the buffalo standing in a partial clearing and had fired at it.

Loot and myself walking through the bush.

On examining the tracks, I found that a second animal had moved in and joined up with the wounded bull – and he was watching our approach. The tracker had shot the wrong buffalo! He could not tell where he had hit it, but there were now two distinct blood spoors. What could more go wrong? We decided to follow the second wounded one, as that spoor was fresher. We had gone about 200m when we spotted the buffalo about 30m ahead. Vic fired and the animal went down, but immediately got up again and turned. Vic and Chris both fired again. The buffalo turned in a circle and dropped, but was not dead and while Vic reloaded, Chris fired again. I was holding my rifle pointing at the buffalo, waiting to see the results of their shots, when I heard branches breaking to my right. The second bull was right behind and charging. I don’t remember aiming my double: I just shot where he looked biggest. My first shot hit him in the chest, but he didn’t even stagger and I thought I had missed him completely. My second shot at about 8m took him just under the eye and he dropped, landing about 2-3m away from me. Fortunately, the first bull was now also down and dead. I had a hell of a job keeping my breakfast down where it should be and had the shakes for about half an hour. This was my second charge, having previously been charged by a leopard. I was becoming a veteran. On later examining the bull, we found that my first shot into the chest had hit the top of the heart, severing the artery, but this had not fazed the bull. He had just kept coming.

I did not handle my third charge with my usual Out of Africa, Robert Redford panache, so I will only mention it briefly. A friend and I were hunting bushpig in the Sabie area of the then Eastern Transvaal (now Mpumalanga). These wily animals only came out of the pine forests and into the banana plantations at night, so we attached a spotlight to a handcarried car battery and went looking for them in the lands bordering the plantations. I was using a borrowed Browning five-shot, auto-loading, 12-bore shotgun loaded with Gevarm aluminium case cartridges in SSG Buckshot.

Our hunt started with Peter, the landowner’s son, and I carrying the guns, one of the farmhands carrying the battery and another the spotlight. Well, the pigs arrived on schedule and the light went on. I fired at a good-sized boar – and then the wheels came off. My shotgun jammed, with the second round halfway in the chamber. The pig adopted a decidedly anti-social attitude and charged – whereupon the battery-bearer dropped his load and headed home as fast as his legs could carry him.

Buffalo in dense thicket.

Standing in the dark with a jammed gun and an angry porker rapidly approaching somewhere ahead is not a good feeling. Peter and I did the wisest thing: we fled. I remember running into and through the plantation and then into the pine forest, being slapped in the face by branches, tripping over logs, roots and other unknown obstacles, all the while hearing the angry grunting and snorting of the enraged pig somewhere in the blackness behind us. Not a good feeling at all. We eventually lost the pig, by which time I had also lost Peter. At this stage, I was also totally lost, not knowing where I was in the forest, nor in which direction the farmhouse lay. I spent a very uncomfortable night, freezing and. thoroughly miserable, waiting for daylight, before I could find my bearings and take the. long walk home. Needless to say, I have never owned another semi-auto shotgun or rifle since, although I still enjoy hunting bushpig when I get the chance. We hunters never learn.

During the mid-1980s I was doing game control on an estate near Malelane, bordering the Kruger National Park. Early one morning I was asked to look for and ‘sort out’ a buffalo 26 which had developed a nasty habit of chasing the workers. Alec van der Post, a nephew of Sir Laurens van der Post and a professional hunter, who was visiting at the time, wanted to share the hunt, so armed with my .375 and his .416 Rigby, we set off to look for the rogue. Petrus, my tracker, found the spoor leading from a banana plantation into a vlei of dense. reeds. The tracks were fresh and we carefully followed the spoor into the reeds. Alec and I kept our eyes on the vegetation, while Petrus tried to determine which way the buffalo was heading. The wind was constantly changing, but we had no choice but to keep on the tracks. Suddenly the bull snorted ahead and broke into a run, deeper into the tangle of reeds.

Petrus then climbed a small tree to try to see what was ahead and indicated that he could see the bull. We slowly inched our way forward for another 10-15m when Petrus again spotted the bull, but we could not make out where he was. Petrus threw a piece of wood towards the buffalo, which again ran off to the left of the faint pathway. We heard him moving and then… silence. The buffalo had stopped and was waiting.

The rogue buffalo shot in dense Lantana thicket.

Petrus then moved forward to climb another tree about 10 paces to our left. He was halfway to it when there was a crashing and snorting and the bull charged straight at him. Through a small clearing in the reeds and undergrowth I took a snapshot, and the bull turned and was gone. My hurried shot had hit him in the throat and he ran out of the reeds into a small island of thick (very thick) lantana scrub and assorted nasty undergrowth. We carefully circled this island, but could not see any tracks of the bull leading out. He was waiting inside the tangle. Alec stationed himself on the path the bull had made on entry. I instructed Petrus to stay with Alec and I moved around to a hippo tunnel leading into the lantana. There was simply no room for two people to manoeuvre in the thicket.

For the benefit of those who have not experienced this type of vegetation, these hippo tunnels are only high enough to crawl or waddle along and the lantana leaves and stalks are as rough as coarse sandpaper, tearing and scratching clothes and skin. Great fun! All I could hope for was to spot the bull before he flattened me. I felt decidedly under-gunned with my .375. Boy, was I scared! But I kept my concentration on the vegetation for any movement. After what seemed like half a lifetime, a small clearing opened a few metres ahead. Once I reached it, I could at least stand upright. A slight movement to one side of the clearing caught my eye. In the shadowy gloom, I could just make out the buffalo waiting… Fortunately, he was facing the direction he had entered, which was away from me. He was no more than 4-5m from where I stood. Very slowly I raised the .375 and, taking careful aim, fired for the brain, killing him instantly.

The animal was a young bull and the reason for his bad temper was a nasty wound and abscess behind his front leg, caused by a 5,56mm NATO bullet which had lodged there. It must have been fired by one of the soldiers on patrols who moved through the area from time to time, keeping check on people and insurgents crossing the border from Mozambique.

Why the buffalo turned from his first charge at Petrus, I cannot say. Perhaps he was a young bull and not one of the old ‘dagga boys’ and maybe my shot hitting him from the side caused him to swing away. I don’t know.

As Alec later put it: ‘This was one of the most tense hunts I have ever had to do.’ I felt the same. However, fresh buffalo steaks and a few cold beers for lunch made it all worthwhile.

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

Animal Rights Activists use Lawfare to Stop Hunting Quotas in South Africa

May 12, 2022 | News, News

All around the world, the practice of turning to the courts has increasingly become a tactic used by activists of all kinds to stop practices of which they disapprove. This has been used by anti-fossil fuel activists to stop coal-fired power stations and off-shore seismic surveys in South Africa. Now the animal rights movement has been granted an interdict by the Western Cape High Court to prevent the hunting of Leopard, Black Rhino and elephant in terms of quotas issued by the Department of Forestry, Fisheries and Environment (DFFE).

There is a saying that goes “The Law is an Ass”. Here is the derivation of that phrase:

“This proverbial expression is of English origin and the ass being referred to here is the English colloquial name for a donkey, not the American ‘ass’, which we will leave behind us at this point. Donkeys have a, somewhat unjustified, reputation for obstinance and stupidity that has given us the adjective ‘asinine’. It is the stupidly rigid application of the law that this phrase calls into question.

“It is easy to find reference works and websites that attribute the phrase to Charles Dickens, who put it into print in Oliver Twist, 1838. When Mr Bumble, the unhappy spouse of a domineering wife, is told in court that “…the law supposes that your wife acts under your direction”, replies: “If the law supposes that,” said Mr Bumble, squeezing his hat emphatically in both hands, “the law is an ass – a idiot”.

“Whoever the (original) author was, we can be sure it wasn’t Charles Dickens. However, it was Dickens who brought the phrase to the general public. Oliver Twist was an enormous success when it was first published as a serial and has become one of the world’s best-selling novels.”

In a statement on 25 February 2022, announcing hunting quotas, the DFFE said that regulated and sustainable hunting is an important conservation tool in SA as it incentivises the private sector and communities to conserve valuable wildlife species and to participate in wildlife-based land uses, ultimately contributing to the conservation of the country’s biodiversity. Income generated by trophy hunting is especially critical for marginalised and impoverished rural communities.

The DFFE had earmarked ten leopards, ten Black Rhino and 150 elephants for trophy hunters in 2022, but the Humane Society International/Africa (HSI/Africa) went to court to seek an interim interdict to prevent this from happening. In its application for an interdict, the organisation said the Minister of DFFE, Ms Barbara Creecy, did not comply with the consultative process prescribed by the National Environmental Management: Biodiversity Act before making her decision, which meant it was invalid and unlawful.

The matter was complicated by the fact that the Covid-19 pandemic had prevented the issue of hunting quotas for 2021, and these were ‘carried over’ to 2022, which was a point of contention.

HIS/Africa said the economic and conservation benefits of trophy hunting are “materially overstated”, adding: “It is not true to assert that without trophy hunting revenues, conservation in SA would be unfunded. More beneficial, transformational long-term alternatives to the killing of threatened, vulnerable and endangered animals for fun already exist. Everyone has the right to have the environment protected for the benefit of present and future generations, through reasonable legislative and other measures that promote conservation.”

The judge granted the interim interdict, details of which may be found here:

https://cer.org.za/virtual-library/judgments/high-courts/humane-society-international-africa-trust-and-others-v-minister-of-forestry-fisheries-and-the-environment-another-elephant-leopard-and-black-rhino-hunting-and-export-quota-matter

Wildlife Ranching SA, which represents the hunting industry, described the court’s interim interdict as “shocking”.

“Where people have heavily invested and taken the trouble to protect and breed any species, there is no valid reason to interfere with the harvesting of them, especially if that’s done sustainably,” it said.

“SA is one of many countries that implement a sustainable offtake of elephants, black rhino and leopard. This is aligned with the best available scientific information on their conservation status and ensures hunting of these animals does not have a negative impact on the wild populations of these species”.

All this takes me back 33 years to 1989, when the Endangered Wildlife Trust supported two Danish researchers, Hans Hansen and Hanne Lindemann in conducting a black rhino monitoring project in the Pilanesberg National Park. By 1991, they had identified every one of the 34 animals in the population, marked them with ear-notches, and compiled a photo identity handbook for the park rangers. The researchers noted that the sex ratio was increasing in favour of males. The problem here is that the younger males fight for the territories of older males, which usually results in the death of the latter. The fighting also interferes with breeding behaviour, as a result if which fewer calves are born.

In an article in 1992 (Endangered Wildlife 11: 9-12) Hans and Hanne suggested that an old, post-reproductive male be auctioned for hunting, which would have raised a considerable amount of money for rhino research and conservation. This caused a controversy, with the uneducated public, the media and the animal rights people shouting “You can’t kill an endangered species!” While this uninformed squabble continued, the old rhino was killed by another male. In 1992 another old male, the one-eared ‘Van Gogh’ was found in poor condition outside his normal range, and the Parks Board agreed that he could be offered for hunting. The media sprang into action again, causing an outcry, and before hunting permits could be issued, Van Gogh was vulture food, instead of a valuable asset that could have raised much-needed funding.

It is beyond “shocking’ that in 2022 a judge can support animal rights activists in interfering in an activity which is based on hard-won scientific evidence and knowledge about Black Rhino biology and behaviour. All the ten rhinos that the DFFE had on their quota are old, post-reproductive males. Sound management practice makes it advisable to remove these males for the benefit of the populations. By offering them to hunters, significant funds can be raised to assist in management and anti-poaching activities that will benefit Black Rhinos and their custodians. Let’s look at some of the statements made by the judge:

“It is convenient to consider these criteria together. In the event that no interdict is granted pending finalisation of the review proceedings, of the order of 170 animals will be hunted during 2022, their respective trophies mounted by local taxidermists and thereafter exported overseas. The primary beneficiaries of these killings will be the wealthy, foreign hunters who may wish to adorn their homes, mancaves, offices, club houses and the like with the hubristic consequences of their expensive forays into the wilds of southern Africa. If the interdict is granted, those animals will be spared death at the hands of the hunters. The irreparable harm is thus the difference between life and death. It is, to use the vernacular, “a no brainer” in the test for an interdict pendent lite.“

Does this sound like the remarks of an objective, open-minded person charged with making a fair decision about the appropriate management of Black Rhinos?

“And, in any event, as I have said, if the review is unsuccessful, the desire of the fortunate few who can afford to hunt protected animals exclusively for the purpose of transporting their trophies for display overseas will not have been lost, only delayed. So too the much-vaunted inflow of foreign currency into South Africa’s hunting industry.”

The need for surplus Black Rhinos to be removed for sound management reasons does not seem to temper the judge’s apparent animal rightist views, and his clear disdain for ‘wealthy, foreign hunters’. In Namibia such individuals are welcomed with respect and gratitude, for they are in fact ‘conservation hunters’. In this case one is sorely tempted to conclude that the law really is an ass.

Dr John Ledger is a past Director of the Endangered Wildlife Trust, now a consultant, writer and teacher on the environment, energy and wildlife; he is a columnist for the African Hunting Gazette. He lives in Johannesburg, South Africa. John.Ledger@wol.co.za

Four Friends and a Safari!

May 10, 2022 | Hunting Stories, News, News

Steve B. and his Nyala.

By Jim Hensley

It was 16 April 2021, a day that had been in my thoughts for over 25 years. It was special because it was my last day as a detective with the Milwaukee Police Department. I was retiring, and nearly everyone was asking me, “How does it feel?” or “Are you excited?” My response to all of them was, “Honestly, I haven’t even thought about it. I’m too excited about Africa.” This was because two days later, my wife Carol and I, along with our friends, Mike, Nicole, Steve, and Belinda were heading to South Africa… Finally!

We had originally scheduled for May 2020, but Covid-19 happened. We rescheduled for September, hoping it would be OK by then… I was wrong! We optimistically rescheduled once more, and this time the day finally arrived.

We had booked a two-week safari with Chivic African Safaris in the Limpopo Province of South Africa. Carol, Mike, and I had all been to Africa on previous safaris, but this would be the first trip (I’m guessing with many more to come) for Nicole, Steve, and Belinda. Mike, like me, had fallen in love with all things Africa on his first safari, and couldn’t wait to share it with his wife Nicole. Steve told me how, for almost 50 years, he had dreamt of hunting in “The Dark Continent” and jumped at the opportunity to experience it with Belinda. Carol and I couldn’t have been more excited to finally get back to Africa, and this trip we had the added bonus of sharing it with really good friends.

Mike’s number one priority was to hunt a big, mature Cape buffalo bull, with the added pressure of sneaking in close enough for him to use his brand-new double rifle. He also wanted to settle the score with a kudu bull, a game that had begun almost four years earlier on his first safari. Steve simply wanted to “soak everything up” while he was in South Africa, and created a list of plains-game animals to focus on – kudu, gemsbok, springbok, and impala. He was also happy with the age-old adage of, “taking what the bush offers you”.

Belinda enjoying a hike.

Jim and Carol Hensley.

Day 1 began at sunrise, just after breakfast. Steve set off in one direction with thoughts of a big kudu bull standing broadside behind every other mopane tree they passed. He didn’t find his big kudu bull that day, but did have an opportunity at a huge nyala, a blue wildebeest, and a zebra, all of which he passed on, opting to hold out for Africa’s “Grey Ghost”.

Carol and I rode along with Mike and his PH Johan, as they searched for the big bulls that had left the salad-plate sized tracks in the sandy dirt. Christo Joubert, the owner and outfitter of Chivic African Safaris, had secured two special permits for Mike and me, permits for two old Cape buffalo bulls, both of which had to be well beyond their prime, in a Big Five area. There would even be the possibility of seeing and/or encountering all five members of the famous Big Five, which became abundantly clear only an hour and a half into the morning’s hunt.

We were lucky enough to have discovered tracks early in the morning, which appeared to have been left behind by a group of four or five bulls who were no longer with the main herd of buffalo. As we followed the tracks, it seemed as if we were making progress and actually catching up with them. It was around that time when we discovered we were not the only ones who were tracking the bulls. Johan was quick to point out the very fresh lion tracks that were on top of the buffalo tracks we were following. This meant our already dangerous hunt just got even more dangerous and challenging, a detail my lovely wife was very quick to point out! Johan told us Cape buffalo by nature are constantly on edge so that they don’t become the next meal for a pride of lions.

Jim Hensley and his Cape buffalo.

Now, not only did we have to try and sneak in on the buffalo, but we had to do it while lions were trying to do the exact same thing as us. We pressed on, and I thought to myself, “What are the chances?” Frankly, I was torn, thinking about how special it would be to see lions, while at the same time thinking about how that would also negatively impact on our chances of Mike getting a shot at a buffalo… with the added danger factor sprinkled in as well.

It was only about twenty minutes later, while everyone was focused on the buffalo tracks and trying to see a big buffalo bull in the shadows ahead, that movement to my right caught my eyes.

“Lions!” I blurted out, spotting three lions creeping through the long grass only 50 short yards away. There were two males and a female, and they were after the exact same buffalo we were tracking. We all instantly froze. Johan assessed the situation while Carol took as many photos as she could. After a few mesmerizing moments, we quietly headed off to our

left – far off to the left – hoping that we would circle around in front of the buffalo and have them stroll into where we would be waiting for them while the lions continued to do their thing and possibly push them right to us. In theory, it was a great plan, but unfortunately it didn’t pan out for us. As buffalo so often do, the bulls meandered in the other direction, and despite our best efforts, we weren’t able to get close enough for a shot.

As we continued our search for buffalo, we were able to locate a lone bull sleeping underneath a mopane tree, but as we snuck in to within shooting distance, the slight tickling on the backs of our necks told both us and the formerly sleeping buffalo that the wind had changed and was now heading directly towards him. The buffalo took less than a second to get to his feet, and with a snort ran off in the opposite direction. We did what all buffalo hunters seem to do in this type of situation – comment to each other on how close we had come and how great it would’ve been if we had only had one more second! Then we headed out in search of more tracks.

By the end of the day, Mike was able to get on the shooting sticks a couple of times, but unfortunately the old buffalo bulls did not cooperate long enough for him to get a shot off.

A day spent chasing Cape buffalo is never wasted, but this particular day, even without bringing down a buffalo, was incredibly special. Apart from our run-in with the lions, later in the afternoon we rounded a corner and came face-to-face with four rhinos. We took as many photos as we could in a very short time, and then backed away before our “incredible experience” turned into something very different. By the end of the day, we had seen not only all five of the Big Five, but while eating our lunch next to a dam that had many hippos and crocodiles, we ticked the boxes for the Dangerous Seven as well.

Day 2 began much like Day 1, with Mike going for his buffalo bull and Steve setting off in search of his kudu. The difference came when a huge sable bull stepped out in front of Steve. This is when he experienced exactly what the phrase, “taking what the bush offers you” truly means. In a fraction of a second Steve got his rifle onto the shooting sticks and slowly squeezed the trigger. The sable bull, possibly Africa’s most regal and stunning antelope, leaped into the bush, stumbled, and then quickly went down. Steve officially had his first African animal. Johan received a message on his cell phone that simply read, “Steve got one in the salt!” later with a photo of Steve hunkered down behind his sable. Johan had assumed the message referred to a kudu, and the picture of the incredible sable was a pleasant surprise. Steve’s smile matched the arc of the sable’s magnificent horns!

Mike C. and his Cape buffalo.

Steve and Belinda with Steve’s sable.

Meanwhile, Mike was not to be outdone, and setting his double rifle on the shooting sticks, he tried to settle the tiny red dot that was bouncing around in circles on the buffalo’s right shoulder. When the red dot finally settled, Mike squeezed the trigger of the .450 NE. As the old bull bucked and turned to run off, Mike managed to set the rifle back down in time to squeeze off the second trigger before the bull disappeared in the thick bush. Johan and Mike followed the buffalo’s tracks that led into the thickest bush on the property… of course. As they did, the blood trail became easier to follow until they were close enough to see the bull slowing down, walking away through the bush. Mike’s double rifle sounded off again with two more quick shots, and the buffalo was off into the bush yet again. This time the old warrior didn’t go far, and they found him lying on the ground. With one more insurance shot, the buffalo hunt was over, and the picture-taking had begun. The old bull’s bosses were worn smooth, and the horns were wide, exceptionally thick, and heavily marked by countless numbers of fights over the years. Most of the hair on his face was long gone, leaving the look and feel of white-colored sandpaper wrapped underneath the massive set of horns.

We took the next few days to enjoy Africa without looking down the barrel of a rifle, and started by spending a day inside the famous Kruger National Park. Christo’s daughter, Karen, who is married to Johan, is in the park on a regular basis, and she has the unique ability to go exactly where the animals are, and drove us through her favorite spots. By the end of the day we saw just about everything you could imagine as we made our way through the park, from the smallest dung beetle to numerous herds of elephants, including many babies, ending with a pack of wild painted dogs trotting by within a few yards of the truck.

Karen ensured our safari was not just a hunting safari. She took us hiking by an absolutely stunning waterfall, feeding a truly wild hippo, and treating us to an elephant experience where we could be with and feed wild elephants. She also arranged for us to visit one of the local schools that Chivic African Safaris works with, and we were able to distribute things we had brought along for this visit – some school supplies, health care items, and toys for the kids. Karen and the rest of the Chivic team also arranged a surprise birthday party for Mike with an incredible dinner under the stars in a dry riverbed, complete with a tower of cupcakes, hanging lights in the trees and, of course, a campfire.

By the end of our safari, Steve had his incredible sable, a beautiful nyala, and his kudu bull. Mike was finally able to settle his score with a big kudu bull, a great Cape buffalo bull, and a zebra and a nyala. For me, I was very fortunate to also have an incredible buffalo hunt, but that’s a story for another time, perhaps around the evening campfire. In the end, the best part of the trip was being there with my wife and good friends.

For us, every trip to Africa has been such an incredible experience, and the only possible way to make it better is to share it with others, and we were able to do just that on this trip.

Classic and Contemporary African Hunting Literature

May 10, 2022 | News, News

White Hunters, The Golden Age of African Safaris

Written by Brian Herne (Henry Holt and Company, Inc., 1999, 468 pages.)

Reviewed by Ken Bailey

Most popular books about hunting in Africa are first-person accounts, a “this happened to me” approach to the telling. Brian Herne’s White Hunters, The Golden Age of African Safaris, meanwhile, takes a different tack. Herne, an accomplished PH in his own right, takes a third-person approach to describing the evolution of the outfitted hunting industry in East Africa, and the influential PHs of the day, from the onset of the professional guiding industry in the late 1890s to the time of his writing, in the early 1990s. The result is a compelling and educational read that makes this one of my personal favourites in African hunting literature.

The research Herne conducted is in compiling this book is impressive; in chronological order, each of the 50 chapters is devoted to a leading figure of the day in the safari world. All the iconic luminaries you’d expect to find are here, from Cunninghame and Ionides to Percival, Hatton, Hunter, Ker, Downey, Selby and more. There are also chapters devoted to PHs who are less well known, but were significant players nonetheless. Their only crime seems to be that they didn’t write about their exploits, or happen to PH for a client who would subsequently write about them.

Other well-known figures appear here, too, many of whom wouldn’t necessarily be associated first with the hunting industry, including noted primatologist Dian Fossey, and George and Joy Adamson, of Born Free fame. You’ll have to read the book to discover their fit.

Several of the more famous clients through the years are covered, too, including Roosevelt, Churchill, King Edward VIII and many Hollywood stars of the day. In fact, as Herne relates, Hollywood film-making was a significant influencer in the hunting industry at various times.

In simplest terms, White Hunters is a history book, but unlike many treatises, this is far from a dry read; Herne clearly understood his audience when he wrote this. Only the highlights of each PH’s career are captured, and that typically includes their most hair-raising encounters with dangerous game. If you like tales of charging lions, buffalo, elephant, leopard and rhino, White Hunters will keep you spellbound.

While Herne has provided a wonderfully thorough timeline of the East African safari business through what he calls its “golden age,” he’s not lamenting about its passage. In fact, in his conclusion he expresses his positivity about the future of hunting, particularly with respect to hunting’s role in the conservation of the wild animals and wild places that are at the very heart of the industry.

There are many books about African hunting that one should read purely for their entertainment value. And while White Hunters is immensely entertaining, you’ll also come away from it with a deeper understanding of the evolution of outfitted hunting and the many characters who helped shape it.

End of a Dream

May 10, 2022 | Hunting Stories, News, News

Big Feet and Tusks to Match

By Don Stoner

Dilemma! In 2013 I had arranged a two-week safari with friends to a favorite plains-game area that also had great numbers of dangerous game. Then about six months prior to this safari, I was offered a bargain cancellation elephant hunt in Zimbabwe. The price was right, the location was exceptional, and the professional hunter was one of the storied men. The only problem was that I was already scheduled to hunt with my friends and I couldn’t go back on that. What to do?

I had adequate vacation days accrued and a very understanding work place, enough financial reserve, and the PH was willing to swap the time with another willing client so that I could simply add it on to my planned safari. How can you say no to that? And when my wife Nancy agreed to join me for the second safari, it was a done deal!

So after seeing off my friends after a wonderful and exciting fourteen days, I was able to kill time in Pretoria. At my age, some rest is needed after a couple of weeks’ hard hunting and a nasty spider bite.

Our Zimbabwe safari wouldn’t start for another three days after our arrival there, so we spent the time at a lodge in the Hwange Park. The lodge had just opened and we were the only guests. The guide was a man I knew from his camera work on one of my favorite safari tapes, and when he learned I was a hunter and also knew his video, we got the tour of our lives.

We were picked up late on the third afternoon by our PH Russ Broom. He had been up all night tracking a lion a client had wounded, and after a four-hour drive to our camp, it was almost midnight. Next morning Russ informed me that our hunting license was not properly signed and that he had sent his tracker back to the park office for the proper signature, so we enjoyed a restful day in camp checking the sights of our rifles. It was mid-afternoon afternoon when the correct licenses arrived.

By now we had lost two valuable hunting days, which might have put some hunters into a less than joyful mood, but we decided to take a philosophical approach. It was Africa, and we were on African time. Just smile, thank God for being here, and enjoy whatever comes each day.

So with all our permits and licenses in place, Russ offered Nancy and me a ride to check four waterholes and look for any spoor. At the first waterholes we found spoor of baboon, eland, buffalo and lion, but no elephant. I was not surprised. I knew that looking for elephant would take time and miles of tracking. My biggest concern was if, at my age, I would still be able to cover the distances that might be necessary.

There was also one other issue. I had taken four elephant on previous safaris and felt I had taken enough of these magnificent creatures. Three of the four had been select problem animals and, while the hunts were fantastic, the ivory was not trophy size. I had always wanted to hunt a big tusker, so I had set unrealistic goals with the outfitter and PH: I would take another elephant only if it were very old and carried at least seventy pounds ivory, though I made them fully aware that I didn’t realistically expect to find such an animal. What I most wanted was to enjoy the experience of hunting elephant again, even if I went home empty-handed.

At the second waterhole, were tracks of several very large bulls. The largest track allowed two of my size twelve boots to fit in with a couple of inches to spare. Wow! If this old boy had teeth to match his feet, he must be something special. Unfortunately, in this day and age when so many of the great old bulls with big feet and heavy ivory have been thinned out, large feet no longer mean a great deal. More likely he had lived so long precisely because he didn’t have heavy ivory. He would surely have been tracked before, because anyone seeing that spoor would definitely follow it. But it was a good starting spot for the next day.

As we moved between the second and third waterhole, our tracker tapped on the roof of the vehicle and stopped us. He had seen the flash of late afternoon sun on ivory out in the bush. As we glassed the bush, we made out some elephant slowly feeding along in the direction of the next waterhole. They were big, but we couldn’t see the ivory clearly enough to draw any conclusions. What the heck! We needed to take a little walk anyway. And as we were not hunting, Nancy elected to come along.

For the first time in my life, we didn’t have to hike a hundred miles to see big elephant. Within less than twenty minutes, we had cut just ahead of them and watched as they fed slowly toward us. The afternoon sun was low, casting a beautiful golden light across the bush making the ivory glow. There were four of them and all were huge. Two were easily in the fifty to sixty-pound range. But one was magnificent. I watched in awe from about seventy yards as he materialized from the thorn bush. I had never seen a bull that large or ivory that thick. We were looking at the owner of the big feet, and he had tusks to match!

Russ looked at me and I nodded, and we moved cautiously ahead of them, but parallel. The wind was blowing steadily at about five miles an hour in our favor. It was a perfect setup. The thorn was thick enough to give us good cover but not so thick we couldn’t find a shooting lane. We moved ahead of their line of march, but closer to the center. Nancy remained in the rear and a bit back with the junior tracker, both very aware of their fast heartbeats. Nancy had also judged her escape route back to the vehicle, but it was too late to leave.

As the big bull slowly fed, he moved slightly toward us and I watched as the hawser-sized trunk reached up into one tree after another. We were now at about forty yards to the side and just slightly ahead of them. Russ and I held a whispered conversation. Was I sure I wanted to shoot this bull? He thought it would go over sixty pounds and maybe seventy but wasn’t sure. It was only the first day. Of course I wanted this bull. He was exactly what I had said I wanted and fully didn’t expect to find. He had the ivory of my dreams and was obviously a very old elephant. His skin hung baggy, his temples were deeply sunken, and he moved like an old man.

First day or not, I have long since learned not to look a gift horse in the mouth. But I didn’t want to shoot from that distance. I wanted to do it right and get close. Russ nodded and indicated for me to lead. I moved another ten yards to our left, ahead of the elephants, and then slipped directly in toward the big one which was now feeding on the upper branches of a large thorn tree. When I was directly ahead of him, I turned to face him and approached very carefully. We were now standing in the middle of the line of march they had been moving on. The big bull was still feeding behind the tree and I didn’t have a good shot, so I waited.

That was almost a disaster because another of the bulls came forward from my left and passed between me and the big bull. At about ten yards he was far too close. I couldn’t believe he neither saw or smelt us. I felt sure that he would turn and come right at me and I was desperately trying to figure out how to handle it. I certainly didn’t want to shoot the fifty-pounder. Thankfully, he circled around the big bull, and fed back the way he came, moving to my left again. What a relief!

I kept saying to myself something I had read from an old book about elephant hunting: “Get as close as you can, Laddie, and then get three steps closer.” I did just that. Small step by small step, and careful not to put my foot on a branch or dry leaf, I edged forward. I stopped at what we later paced at 12 yards. At that range, looking up at this giant was truly impressive. I watched as his trunk snapped off branches the size of my arm. After what seemed an eternity, he turned slowly to my right and stepped from behind the tree. I expected him to come directly toward me but he didn’t. He continued to move broadside to my right, presenting a perfect side brain shot.

I don’t remember squeezing the trigger. I don’t remember the recoil, other than trying to regain my sight picture for a second shot. But it wasn’t necessary. I watched as the massive, gray mountain collapsed with so much force I could feel the impact in my feet. His tusks drove into the sand so hard that I was fearful he had broken one. My shot had notched the top of the zygomatic arch, up and straight through the brain. He rolled on to his left side and I paid the insurance shot into his chest, but it wasn’t needed.

I will never forget the next few moments standing there looking at the completion of a dream I had held since I was a child. I felt both stunned and immensely grateful. Every moment had to be savored, every respect for this fallen giant; every appreciation for the skill and dedication of my PH and the trackers; the joy of sharing this experience with my wife, and the profound thanks to God for such a remarkable event.

He was old, very old, probably about seventy years, I learnt later, almost as old as me, and he was on his last set of well-worn teeth. I had saved him from a slow, agonizing death from starvation and decay in the bush within the next year.

We hurriedly measured the ivory. It was slightly oval in shape and we had underestimated the diameter, but we also misjudged because the elephant was bigger-bodied than normal. He had been the largest-bodied of the four very large bulls. At the lip he was almost twenty inches in circumference, and he protruded forty-eight inches. Not only that, but he carried his weight all the way to the broken tips. Both sides had probably lost the last foot or so of ivory, leaving thick stubs. In his prime he must have been simply magnificent. Easily over the magic one hundred pounds. By the time we had honored him and taken pictures, it was getting quite dark so we could do nothing further. Russ assured me that the ivory would be safe since we were in a remote area and that we would retrieve it the next day.

Back at camp I just couldn’t quite believe it all. Where had this bull come from? No one had seen him or his track previously. No one had seen the other bulls accompanying him. Had he wandered in from Botswana? How had he managed to avoid detection for so long? Never mind where he came from. We now just celebrated that he was here. Sleep did not come easily for me – I kept replaying the event over and over.

The following morning, Russ procured a tractor and a flatbed trailer. We passed by the local village and everyone hopped on the trailer. It was quite a festive ride. We arrived at the scene far ahead of the recovery crew. I examined every inch of the great body trying to take it all in. I hefted his trunk, or tried. It was too heavy. I felt the ivory over and over. I had a strange feeling that this giant was a gift from God, and I honored him all the more.

When the tractor and trailer arrived, the skinning started. The huge head was removed and loaded into a pickup truck. It completely filled the bed and the ivory stuck up and over both sides. All the trophy parts were carefully preserved and then the villagers were turned loose to take their meat. They treated us with great respect. They put chairs in the shade for us to sit and watch, and built a small fire next to us. They started bringing choice pieces of the meat and roasting it for us in the fire. It was a gracious show of appreciation, and quite touching.

The following morning we returned to find nothing but vultures sitting in the trees and a huge red stain on the sand. There were some huge bones lying around but little else. The entire twelve thousand pounds of elephant were gone. Nothing was left as waste. I would add that the feeling of having provided so much meat to such eager and needy people is satisfying. It is one very real joy a hunter can experience.

We had been waiting to extract the ivory to weigh and finally Russ came with the news. The nerve root proved to be very small, consistent with an old elephant. The first wet weight was 93 and 89 pounds. I was beside myself! I would bet that with their full length they would have easily made 120, but who cares. Even with drying from long years of display in air conditioning and heat at home, they still weigh 90 and 86 pounds. They are simply magnificent.

Russ turned the remaining time into a fascinating, productive safari experience that produced a buffalo, leopard, and a beautiful sable.

AHG Monthly April 2022

Apr 19, 2022 | Archive, News, News

Serval: Something for everyone – the season in full swing

Earlier this year while heading southwest of Joburg to collect a consignment of trophies to ship, I came across what was undoubtedly my finest roadkill specimen to date. The sun was just rising and the road kill was fresh – not your regular activity when road tripping. But it’s something I started (collecting roadkill) since being a ‘lighty’ (southern African term for a kid) while driving around with my dad. The kills had to be intact and not too smelly, otherwise I just kept a bunch of feathers, for example, guinea fowl or owls. I’d skin colorful breast feathers and dry the wings; it was my way of appreciating forever the different species. Odd – but that’s me.