Page 15 – AHG

Formula: AHG + John Rigby = One Very Happy Hunter

Jul 5, 2023 | News

Dear John Rigby Co. and Maria,

I wanted to write and tell you how thankful I am to own a John Rigby 416 rifle. It arrived last Wednesday!!! Your company and willingness to participate in the African Hunting Gazette drawing with the prize of a 416 is just incredible. What an honor to win this rifle knowing that John Rigby himself created his rifle over 110 years ago.

When I met some of the employees at the John Rigby booth in Dallas at the Safari Show, I was so impressed with their professionalism and experience with guns. It was obvious this was far more than simply a job; it was a passion and now I’m the beneficiary of that passion and pride.

Thank you to everyone who made this possible. I will always treasure it and the hands that made it. Hopefully it finds its way on a hunt in Africa soon.

Sincerely,

Steve McGrade

Classic and Contemporary African Hunting Literature

Jul 5, 2023 | Archive, News

Death in the Dark Continent

Peter Hathaway Capstick (St. Martin’s Press, 1983, 238 pages.)

Reviewed by Ken Bailey

There’s probably no modern author of African hunting adventures that has captured audience appeal like Peter Capstick has. After a short career as a Wall Street stockbroker, Capstick headed to Latin America, where he traveled widely while hunting and fishing. A few years later he returned to New York, where he founded a business as a hunting booking agent. Shortly thereafter, he took a position as Hunting and Fishing Director at a subsidiary of Winchester and in that capacity, in 1968, he made his first trip to Africa. Subsequently, he worked as a professional hunter and game ranger in Zambia, Botswana and Rhodesia, today’s Zimbabwe.

Capstick started writing about his adventures in the late 1960s, publishing numerous articles in various sporting magazines. In 1977 he published his first book, Death in the Long Grass. It was a big success and cemented his reputation as an author of true adventure stories. Though some have questioned Capstick’s use of “literary license” in embellishing his writing, there’s no denying that he’s a captivating storyteller.

Death in the Dark Continent has a more narrow focus than Death in the Long Grass, which, using real-life examples, described perilous encounters with a range of dangerous African wildlife, from elephant and lion through to snakes, hyenas and more. In Dark Continent, Capstick’s attention is restricted to the Big Five; in fact, the book has only six chapters, an introduction and a chapter dedicated to each of buffalo, lion, leopard, rhino and elephant. As the title infers, while he does impart a little life history information and some hunting wisdom, the nucleus of each chapter is Capstick relating a series of tales in which hunting encounters result in the death, serious injury or a hair’s breadth away from death of the hunter. In some instances the stories detail his own experiences, while many are tales he has read about or heard from other hunting professionals.

I suspect that when Capstick wrote Death in the Long Grass he wasn’t thinking about “saving” some harrowing tales for subsequent books; he used his best material. As such, I would suggest that many of the stories in Death in the Dark Continent don’t quite reach the high standards of his first book. Still, it’s Capstick ability to tell a story, as much as the story itself, that has set him apart as an author of African adventure. His entertaining use of similes and metaphors is beyond compare, and few can match his uncanny ability to select just the right adjectives to best appeal to his audience.

Consider the opening sentence in the chapter on elephants – “Moths the size of woodcock mobbed the pressure lamp at the end of the dining hut table while a terminal moon suicided over the Luangwa River in an ecstasy of orange agony.”

By his own admission, Capstick is often guilty of purple prose, excessively ornate text, but you can’t deny that his colourful descriptions offer the reader a clear and revealing picture of the scene.

The chapter on buffalo opens with, “FOR CHRIST’S SAKE, KILL ME!”

I dare you to read that and not feel both compelled and eager to read what comes next. That’s the beauty of Capstick as an author—his lavish descriptions and riveting text immediately draw the reader in as few others have. Is it all factual? Who knows? And frankly, I don’t care.

I read Death in the Dark Continent over the course of a few evenings one week. As with all of Capstick’s writing, it’s easy to read, captivating in its content, and offers hunting adventure escapism at its best. It’s fun and entertaining, and often that’s all I want or need in my African literature.

BUY A COPY OF YOUR OWN

Wato – The Book

Jul 5, 2023 | Archive, News

By Brian Watson

Wato – The Book is a beautiful 324 page hard cover compilation of some of Wato’s hunting adventures in wild Africa and other wilderness places.

The book can be purchased here: https://watosbook.square.site/

To give you a taste of what’s in store between the covers, here is just one chapter for your pleasure.

The Happy Walk

Perched comfortably in the pointy end of a 747 on the way to Johannesburg, the flight stewards dimmed the lighting for the long hop over the Great Southern Ocean. As so often happens after a pleasant dinner and some equally pleasant drinks, a calm close to sleep overtakes your senses. At this point, most of the other passengers were dozing or wearily staring at some drivel on the entertainment monitor. I looked out the window to the left and watched the icebergs of Antartica bobbing in the sea.

My thoughts rambled and rattled around my brain, flitting between important people in my life to just how this giant flying goose manages to stay airborne, and finally settling on previous exciting or rewarding hunts I had participated in, and of course the unpleasant experience of Kariba. Most notably, was the first Jumbo I had hunted on the banks of the Limpopo River many years ago. Such was the euphoria and heightened sense of self that overwhelmed me then, I vowed then I would pursue more of this adrenaline rush. Accordingly, I undertook a votive understanding that in what was left of my lifetime, I would hunt at least ten of the Africana Loxodontos species before I cashed in my chips.

Up to this point, as well as that initiate Limpopo trophy bull, there have been two non-trophy bulls from the Rifa, two ‘Zambezi Ladies’ from the same district, a non-trophy bull hunted in the vast tall reeds of the Caprivi Strip, a massive bull from Namibia’s Bushmanland, and a scrawny old gent from below the Kariba Dam in Zimbabwe that have been notched onto my hunting stick.

Numero nuevo beckoned somewhere in the huge Hwange Reserve of Zimbabwe. I will be hunting under the guidance of an old mate Marthinus Koch of MJK Safaris. My usual hunting partner, Ian Head of World Safari Expeditions and I had socialised with Tienie (Marthinus) many times in the Rifa and at SCI expo’s over the previous years, subsequently forming a good regard and appreciation of him. After an overnight stay at Joburg and a short flight to Victoria Falls, Tienie is to pick me up at the airport.

After meeting with Tienie and his safari business partner Lindon Stanton at the airport kiosk, and then picking up Lindon’s client Peter from Queensland off a later flight, we went and had lunch at a restaurant overlooking one of the magnificent gorges of Victoria Falls. We then did some shopping for some of the essentials we would require over the following days, like whiskey, gin, and bourbon along with a few bottles of wine to go with our meals, and of course some nice cigars to toast any success we may enjoy. Essentials collected, we then made our way to a fantastic camp on the bank of the Zambezi River, a drive of about one and a half hours from Vic Falls.

Even though this camp was beautifully positioned on the bank of the Zambezi River we were warned not to get to close to the waters edge because of the prevalence of the huge crocodiles. I later saw a croc that had just been shot off this very bank and it was a monster measuring something over 16 feet long. It was creepy when we were fishing, to see several heads lingering just clear of the water nearby, but did put your self-preservation mode into high gear.

Early next morning we drove out in the chill dark dawn towards the Eastern fringe of Hwange. This was the end of an African winter and while I was comfortable in the cab of the vehicle, I shivered at the thought of the trackers huddled in the freezing wind on the open back of the truck. A mental note was made to be on the lookout for a warm jacket to buy for them at a later date. The trip would take us several hours, with a couple of short stops along the way to check known places where Elephant frequent, usually where they came down from the hills to water at the Zambezi before returning for their daily feeding places. Once at the area we immediately contacted a small herd. Sensing a quick climax to my hunt, gun belts were strapped on, rifles loaded and checked and a brisk walk into the bush ensued.

The herd was found close by with individuals spread through the thick vegetation. It was soon apparent that there were only cows in the herd, and, as some had calves at foot, we proceeded with a lot of caution. One large cow unexpectedly approached our position from behind so it was necessary to make a very prudent and nervous withdrawal. Thankfully the cow did not catch our wind and we were able to get back to the vehicle without incident.

Further searching failed to find any more herds or individuals, so we turned back towards camp and checked other trails along the way, seeking information from various natives that had local knowledge of the game activity around their areas. One area adjacent to the bank of the Zambezi held some very large tracks that were 24 hours old. We would come and inspect this game trail the following morning in the hope that these Elephant had come to drink at the same spot.

The next morning, having checked the previously mentioned area without luck, we moved to another mostly dry river system. The day became hotter and many large bull tracks were found, and I was starting to think these animals were the ghosts of Hwange. No animals were contacted. At the end of the river, we had to cross over to get to the truck that had come to pick us up. Crossing the water here was tricky with a particularly nasty form of reed dominating. In order to avoid falling into the water and thereby testing your chances with an unseen croc, you naturally tried to hang on to the reed but it was laced with nasty fine thorns that unmercifully pierced your skin. So, it was take your chances with the slippery rocks, unseen crocs, or grab hold of the needles and put up with the pain. I chose pain.

The area however seemed to hold promise, and as Tienie explained, he tried to take animals out of different areas thereby avoiding make whole herds overly skittish. We decided to visit this same place again tomorrow, but walk from the other direction. A better strategy was used next time however, as the trackers cut some substantial branches that we were able to walk over much more safely. And with no needles! Using the wind, we did a large loop out from the river and back, hoping to find the owners of those huge tracks. In all, we tried this three times but still no animals were detected. Tienie dug into his box of tricks to find a new approach that may reward us with some success.

The following day, we went to a new area, and found fortune after Lindon radioed us after sighting the tracks of five large bulls crossing an old cornfield close to our position. Once on the tracks my spirits were lifted as we now had a real chance of catching these animals. The walking was easy with tracks clearly visible. The day wore on and it appeared that we were not gaining any ground on our quarry. After 31 kilometres, the tracks were lost in a melding with a cowherd. Soon after, we abandoned our effort as the bulls were clearly on an intense quest and had no thought of stopping or even slowing. The Landcruiser was radioed and we returned to camp for another night of frivolity, all fortified by the lovely Scotch supplied by Peter, another Aussie. I supplied the Romeo n Juliet cigars that I picked up for an absolute song while passing through Vic Falls.

We left well before sun up next morning hoping to catch those bulls as they returned to their day resting place. Success; tracks of the same group were found crossing the gravel road at the place where we abandoned the chase yesterday. They were fresh and amazingly, showed that the bulls had continued to their resting/foraging place and then returned during the night to drink. It was now 6.30 in the chill morning as we prepared our gear and ourselves for what was anticipated as a successful hunt. Reluctantly I shed my warm jacket, although the coming day would be hot, but carrying extra clothing was always a bind. Looking out across the veldt, I wondered how long it would take to catch up with these long striding giants.

At the start, the track was easy to walk with lots of sign a novice could read. By 11am, the dung was fresh and hot, indicating we were getting very close. There was only one small problem; the wind was blowing from behind and the inevitable happened, at some distance in front of us, far enough that we couldn’t see them, the bulls caught our scent and bolted. The sharp-eared trackers heard the animals rushing off, so we had no choice but to stop and wait to avoid putting any pressure on them. Most of the party lay in the dry grass and dozed, except for one that amused himself by taking photos of me snoring loudly with a very unattractive slack mouth.

After 30 minutes or so we continued the chase. The rest was therapeutic, so we plunged on with a refreshed effort. Just as well we had rested, as now the trail became harder and harder. We traversed gullies and steep ridges of the increasingly hillier terrain. Halfway along one very narrow path on a sharp ridge-line, I marveled at just how well coordinated these Elephant were, as I was being very careful not to slip and fall off and down the extremely steep sides. My thoughts were answered as the tracks then disappeared over the edge. Amazing…five huge bulls simply turned at 90 degrees and went straight down the steep incline. I would have loved to witness this happening; presumably they sat on their bum and skidded to the bottom.

It was now our turn, so after unloading our rifles we too made the descent. To say it was difficult would be to understate the situation. We had to be wary of rocks the size of grapefruit rushing downhill when the person behind you dislodged one. I never got hit, but one sharp rock crashed into the stock of Miss Rigby, leaving a very nasty dent. Still, I purchased that beautiful rifle to use, not to look at in a glass case. The bottom of the mountain was reached with a collective sigh of relief.

Slowly, but surely the small herd of bulls were overtaken. By now it was mid-afternoon and everybody was beginning to feel jaded. As we started along a well-treed gully I thought, if I were an Elephant, this lovely shaded place would be the perfect place to stop and rest during the heat of the day. Almost immediately, one of the trackers stopped to listen. Inspired by him the other trackers followed his lead and sure enough they could hear the sound of Elephant feeding. My, ‘Useless as tits on a bull hearing sense’, could pick up no recognisable sound, but we continued on with renewed vigor.

The going was now thick and it took another 30 minutes of maneuvering in among the palms and trees before the giants appeared before us in a clearing. The size of these majestic animals was astounding. They were not overly large in the body because of the steep terrain they inhabit and therefore, possessing a svelte Jenny Craig physique. They were however, huge tall rangy animals with thin tusks.

One moved toward our position and started to feed while facing front on at about sixty metres. Tienie and I were stuck out in the open and unable to move without risking spooking the already nervous herd, and having to start all over. My preference would have been to take the risk and try and manoeuvre closer but Tienie calmly lay his rifle on his thigh and put his fingers in his ears. His confidence in my shooting abilities was appreciated but when I shot, the great beast instantly twirled and ran. Another shot at the hip from both of us also failed to bring the target down.

Dean, the apprentice PH, caught all the action on video, which appeared to show that the first shot missed several inches to the right, but this was later, found to be incorrect. We soon found blood on the brush about one meter from the ground, indicating that it was coming off the front of the beast and probably out of the trunk. We took a positive out of this, as the animal should be badly wounded and not too far away. Even when tracking a wounded Elephant and his four large mates it ain’t always easy, so it took the trackers a little time on the hard packed rocky ground to make their way towards the herd. Once again it was the remarkable hearing of one tracker that gave us the vital clue. Even at over 200 metres he heard the heavy gasping of the stricken animal.

The rest of the herd was surrounding him in a protective gesture and with the wind swirling we were unable to get any closer without being detected. After several tense minutes of trying to identify and isolate the constantly milling herd, they suddenly broke cover and ran down the valley. We chased, and when the valley made a loop to the right, we ran up the bank just in time to see them rushing back to the left at a distance of about 60 metres. Tienie was the first to identify the wounded beast and without hesitation threw up his 500 Jeffries and with a great running shot to the head put the animal down in emphatic fashion. We approached cautiously, in case the running herd came back, but their departure was also emphatic. A quick insurance shot and everybody heaved a sigh of relief, with a few wry smiles to cover the anxieties we all felt.

We examined our quarry and found surprisingly, that my first shot was exactly on line, thereby disproving the video footage. Apparently, the bull pulled his head up at the shot and the bullet entered the skull ever so low. Such is the difference between a perfect killing shot and a stuff up.

Relaxed now, the crew gulped some water while a few pictures were taken and the return to camp contemplated. I said to Tienie, “Please don’t tell me that we have to walk back over those bloody mountains”. He answered, “Yeh Wato, but it will be a happy walk”. Happy walk??? By now our GPS showed that we had covered 32 kilometres in pursuit of these Elephant, it was 4 o’clock in the afternoon, and we had to go back over Mt Kilimanjaro then Mt Everest via Mt Fuji.

With roughly 2 hours of daylight remaining the long walk back commenced. In no time at all we were climbing in the twilight. We were up that well known creek in a barbed wire canoe with a ice cream stick for a paddle. I said what every one of us was thinking, “Someone is going to get hurt if we continue, what are our alternatives? Tienie agreed, “We only have one, I’ll radio the truck and the driver will have to meet us at some point on the river, and we must go back down the mountain and walk out via the river”. The climb back down that mountain in the now dark was horrendous, with more scars being inflicted on Miss Rigby’s beautiful stock as I used her as a walking stick, but we finally reached relative safety at the bottom. With no light apart from a rapidly fading battery from my cell phone, we headed off downstream with only a small amount of light from the moon to show our way.

By now we had been travelling for over eleven hours and had run out of water two hours ago. The uneven rocks of the riverside and sharp thorns and reeds made for more unpleasantness. The thought that there could also be unseen dangers lurking along the riverside in the form of Hippos or Crocodiles was also playing on our minds. Two hours later and thirst started to take its toll. Reluctantly, we decided to chance the river water. I asked Tienie if I would die of some exotic parasite if I drank this water without adding the antiseptic Vodka I had left at camp, and he answered, “No, but you might die if you don’t drink it.” I love a cheerful bastard.

Pushing on through the murky night, the time approached midnight. Someone suggested we stop and have a sleep. Dean gathered wood and dry reeds and proceeded to start a fire. Some of the lads lay down on the sand that lined the river. Nope, I couldn’t agree with this. “Get up fellas, lets keep going as we can only be about two hours from the truck” I said. As the next youngest member of the team was only half my age, I’m sure they were only thinking of poor old me by calling a stop. So, with a hoop and a holla we set off once more.

Sure enough, after a particularly tough section of the trek through two meter high reeds we glimpsed a fire ahead. Our driver had reached the reached the riverside along an almost non-existent track and lit a fire to help guide us in. Remarkably, it took another hour to reach the fire, but the heat of the coals warming our bones and the taste of those stale sandwiches meant for lunch some thirteen hours ago screamed paradise. I now state, without fear of contradiction, a hot cup of tea has never before or since, tasted soooooo good.

The one disappointing thing about the hunt was I slept in until about 10am next morning. I suppose that was understandable given the rigours of the day before, but I missed an important part of the hunt process. At daybreak a team of men went out leading seven Donkeys all the way back to where the Elephant fell. They then skinned and butchered the carcass, loaded the lot on to the Donkey’s baskets and walked back out. I would have loved to seen and helped with this procedure, and been able to take what would have been, some remarkable photos.

In all, we had covered 54 kilometres on that hunt over 17 long hours. We got our Elephant and managed to return unscathed even though the rifles were not so lucky. It took some days to recover from the bone weariness and blisters, but Oh!!….what a happy walk.

Youth Hunting:A Smart Parent’s Guide to Safely Hunting with Kids

Jun 21, 2023 | Archive, News

Sponsored by Ammo.com

It’s a pivotal time for the sport of hunting, especially among America’s youth. Due to urbanization, endless activities for children, and the constant humming draw of electronics, kids are getting less exposure to the outdoors and showing even less interest in hunting.

Sadly, hunting has become a dying sport – and yet you can do something about it.

Read Full Article on Ammo.com

Issue July-September 2023

Jun 19, 2023 | Electronic Magazines

Some Things You Just Cannot Make Up!

Jun 9, 2023 | Archive, Hunting Stories

A tired crew in front of the cave with a worthy trophy.

By Ricardo Leone

This past January 2023 at the DSC Show, I was reunited with my Professional Hunter, Gamshad Gam, from a memorable Tanzanian Safari, nearly a decade ago. We had not seen each other nor talked since October 2013. As we sat in his booth to catch up on our respective life events, we immediately talked about our unforgettable Warthog chase – some things you just cannot make up!

So, what do you do with a Warthog in a cave?

This was not your usual vertically oriented cave that comes to mind – the type of cave one just walks into. The cave’s entrance was about half way up a rock cropping – almost suspended in air. Its’ shape was horizontal – only two to three feet high and twenty or more feet wide. The cave was likely home to predators based on all the old bones we found just outside the entrance. On the rocks above the cave, were Hyraxes just looking at us. At first the Hyraxes just sat and watched us try to solve the question of the day, then with a blink of an eye – they were gone. I am confident If they knew the forthcoming entertainment – they would have stayed to watch the antics.

The cave opening halfway up the rock outcrop.

We had to climb up a good ten feet slope to the entrance of the cave. While we believed the Warthog was in there, we could not see into the cave. I cannot recall whose idea it was, but either Gamshad or our tracker came up with the idea to light a fire in the cave’s entrance and smoke the Warthog out. The crew assembled a firepit on the ground below the cave and started a fire. They cut down leaf covered saplings, lit the leaves, and tried to stuff the burning saplings into the cave without the fire going out. In parallel, Gamshad positioned me at one corner of the cave’s mouth looking across the entrance – he asked me to sit ready with my rifle in hand for when the Warthog ran out. Well so much for a grand plan, the smoke found its way into everyone’s eyes, except the Warthog’s, and the saplings burned out without the Warthog or anything for that matter exiting the cave.

The last whisps of smoke after our failed effort to smoke the warthog out of the cave.

It was now past 2pm, some five hours after our first sighting of this Warthog. If the Warthog was not coming out – then we had to go in. However, we had a problem – we could not find a torch in the Land Cruiser. Gamshad sent our driver, Mushi, back to camp to retrieve both a torch and a rope. Mushi’s drive would take at least an hour. In the meantime, as the firepit still had embers – the crew decided it was time for lunch!

I was not really in an eating mood; however, I had to do something to pass the time as no one else was interested in my Warthog at that moment. While the crew settled in to cook a hot meal, I grabbed a cold sandwich from the cooler and found a rock to sit on to reflect on the events of the day that lead us to such an unusual predicament. This was only on my second African hunting safari – I was still climbing a steep learning curve. We were in the Kizigo Hunting Block in Tanzania, and it had been a hard trip to date and rough living. It was day ten or our twelve-day safari and I still had a Warthog on my wish list. I really wanted to harvest my first Warthog – so much so that when I had an opportunity at 8:30am that morning – I rushed a shot on a running Warthog and missed.

Ok, it was “game on” – I needed to find another Warthog. This was my sole goal for the remaining three days of the safari. Luckily, within the next thirty minutes, we found another worthy Warthog. This one was about 100 yards away off to our right. We were driving in a dried riverbed, so the Warthog was slightly above us up on a ridge. Gamshad had me steady my rifle on the cab of the Land Cruiser for the rising shot. I quickly took aim and shot. I knew the moment I fired, that I pulled the gun right. Sure enough, I hit the Warthog in the back leg or foot. The Warthog spun around and ran back behind the vehicle and away from us. While I was sure the Warthog was not happy about his foot, it could still motor along. Everyone except our driver, Mushi, got off the Land Cruiser and we started what was going to be a very long stalk. The best way to share our journey is to recall our timeline.

I shot this Warthog at approximately 9am. The injured Warthog ran onto a rocky area, so while not great for leaving tracks, we were able to pick up a blood trail. The heat of the day intensified shortly after 9am and was relentless until late afternoon. For the next two hours we tracked this Warthog in the open sun– at times it seemed we were going in circles. I really admire the trackers – between intermittent tracks and blood drops we were able to keep on the Warthog’s never ending winding trail. We had surmised that I must have shot the Warthog’s foot from the tracks.

By 11am, we were exhausted from the heat or at least I was. We all took a break to drink water and rest in the shade. One of the trackers went back for Mushi and the Land Cruiser so we could have a snack from the cooler – we needed a source of energy. After a thirty to forty-five minutes break, it was time to resume tracking. We assumed the Warthog was also resting somewhere – we just had to bump him.

Shortly after we resumed tracking, the government Scout and a junior tracker believed they found the Warthog in a burrow. The two of them were in front of the rest of us. Gamshad and the senior tracker were trying to signal to the Scout and junior tracker to just sit tight. While the Scout and junior tracker should have known better than to provoke the hiding Warthog, they either could not hear Gamshad or were just caught up in the moment. I was just behind the Scout and the junior tracker – Gamshad and the senior tracker were just behind me – we were spread out covering as much ground as possible. Before you knew it, the Warthog literally jumped straight up out of the burrow into the air. I could see the Warthog swing his head right, then left, trying to gore the Scout and junior tracker with his tusks – at the same time, the Warthog made a noise that sounded part snort part roar. The Scout and junior tracker leapt back as I shouldered my gun. I had a clear shot but could not fire with the proximity of the Scout and junior tracker. While clearly an exciting moment – there was also frustration towards the unhurt Scout and junior tracker for not being patient and taking advantage of their find. We all just sat back and watched the Warthog run a few hundred yards out of the grassland straight towards a cropping of rocks where it seemed to disappear into the center of the cropping.

The Warthog’s abrupt reappearance happened about 12:30pm. It took a good 30 mins to regroup and make our way to the rocks and cave. As we approached the rocks, the environment transitioned from the extreme heat of the open bush to a partially shaded rocky area that was thankfully cooler. I appreciated the shade while I sat there and finished my sandwich. The crew was totally focused on their lunch and had forgotten about our mission. Mushi returned just past 3pm – lunchtime ended abruptly as it was time to answer the question of what to do with a Warthog in a cave.

Mushi brought a large torch and a long winch strap. Seemed we had all the equipment for the extraction. Gamshad sent one of the crew into the cave with the torch to have a look. Poor chap slid in on his side and quickly retreated to tell Gamshad the layout. The tracker explained the Warthog was in the cave lying still in the back corner. Gamshad then sent the same tracker back in with the torch to keep the light on the Warthog. Gamshad grabbed his rifle and started to slide in. He quickly retreated asking for my rifle as I had a red dot in my scope and Gamshad’s scope did not. Gamshad later explained he could not see with his scope and needed my illuminated red dot to aim at the Warthog. The irony was my rifle, a 1960’s classic Griffin & Howe pre-64, model 70 .375 H&H, was going to finish the mission while I was asked to stand down for safety reasons. Trust me, the thought a bullet ricocheting around the cave did cross my mind. I did not vigorously complain being relegated to a spectator. Gamshad grabbed his ear protectors – something the tracker did not have and off Gamshad went again, sliding in on his side. The rest of us stood back and plugged our ears for what was sure to be a sonic BOOM!

Within a few seconds Gamshad fired – the noise was thunderous, and dust billowed out of the cave. Gamshad crawled backwards out of the cave with a smile on his face saying, “we have our Pig”. A few moments after Gamshad exited the cave, the tracker came out – poor chap had dust all over his face and body and he was shaking his head trying to stop his ears from ringing. The same tracker grabbed the winch strap and went back into the cave to tie one end to the Warthog. At 4pm, some seven hours after I made the initial poor shot, the Warthog was finally pulled out of the cave. After a thorough photo session, our exhausting Warthog hunt was complete. This was a true team effort.

Gamshad inspecting the cave and “making a plan.”

Gamshad and Tracker deciding how to enter the cave.

Gamshad going into the cave to shoot the warthog.

Literally everything in the Land Cruiser had been emptied out – it seemed we had set up a new camp in front of the cave. Even the firepit was still smoldering. At 4:30pm, it was time to pack up the Land Cruiser, load the Warthog and head back to camp. We made it back to camp before the other hunting party returned from their afternoon game drive. I showered, sat by the camp fire and sipped a gin and tonic as I continued to reflect on the day trying to organize my racing thoughts into a concise story – one I could share over sundowners. I was not sure if this was going to be an embarrassing story or a fantastic hunting story – the truth was somewhere in the middle.

In the end, the Warthog was the last trophy of my very successful safari. The last two days of our safari ended up being exclusively a photo safari – no more game worthy of giving chase, but plenty to admire. In hindsight, the Warthog hunt was a fitting end to what was a very hard, yet successful twelve-day hunt, as I bagged everything on my wish list – even my first Pig in a fashion that you just cannot make up.

A relieved hunter with Gamshad still wearing his ear protectors.

Our ten-year reunion – a real pleasure to spend time with an exceptional PH.

Down Under in Namibia

Jun 9, 2023 | Archive, Hunting Stories

Written by Erich Mueller

Hardly a Wild West scene is as well known as the long-range shot in the film Quigley Down Under. The weapon used by Tom Selleck as the sniper, Quigley, in the Australian film was a Sharps 1874 with Creedmoor Diopter. It was this film and this weapon that gave birth to what I would call something of a crazy idea: Why not use this breech-loading rifle in an African antelope hunt? For those who are wondering why crazy, you must take a closer look at the history and the technical specifications.

The rifles designed by Sharps were built especially during the American Civil War. Later, the Model 1874 was specifically designed for North American big game and given the nickname of the Buffalo Rifle. It was a rather sad chapter for America when professional buffalo hunters nearly eradicated the herds of millions of bison. The popularity of the rifle was due to its simplicity, robustness, and caliber. The cartridge .45-70 Government issue was used widely as a military bullet. Easy, and available nearly everywhere. It was issued to buffalo hunters free of charge to accelerate the extermination of the buffaloes and therefore that of the Indians. In my research I discovered the Italian weapons manufacturer Davide Pedersoli. Founded in 1958, this company has been dedicated to researching and manufacturing historical weapons since its beginning. Numerous awards are the best proof of the quality and precise ballistic properties of Pedersoli weapons, so it was not hard to find the Sharps 1874 I was looking for and decided on the 1874 Sharps Sporting No. 3 Extra Deluxe.

Polished frame and fittings, nickel silver front stock cap, a specially selected walnut stock with perfect fits, clean blends and gold inlays designed by Bison. When I first held the gem with a total length of 124 cm, I thought that the idea of this rifle on plains game was really crazy. I had a fantastic rifle in my hands, but with the massive octagonal barrel that alone has a length of almost 82 cm, it also weighed 5.2 kilos.

The next step took me to Ferlach, to my longtime friend Herbert Scheiring, arguably one of the best gunsmiths in the world. The Sharps case block closure, the forged main components, deep drawn barrel, elicited from Herbert an appreciative smile. The supplied Creedmoor Diopter was then mounted immediately and then injected. After only a few shots and thanks to many years of Herbert’s experience and the perfect combination of double set drigger, Creedmoor Diopter and tunnel front sight with interchangeable inserts, we had the desired result. The next step from Buffalo Bill in Africa was an unexpected call. A longtime customer and hunting client of mine, who was also part of the Royal Family in Dubai, asked me to organize a plains-game hunt in Namibia for him and his friends. Since I had already twice successfully hunted in Namibia with him, I already knew his wishes and prepared a safari in the Etosha area, where he was able to hunt the black-nosed impala. Knowing that he was an excellent shooter, I asked him if he wanted to go hunting with a Sharps for those antelopes in Namibia. After only a few YouTube studies came the happy confirmation: “That’s exactly what I’ve always wanted to try.” Said and done! The organization was completed quickly. I had known my outfitter and PH Marius for several years and quickly had the confirmation for the desired period – early July. I flew Qatar from Vienna via Doha directly to Windhoek. When checking in at the airline, in the gun case, next to the Sharps was my smaller custom-made .30-06 Mauser 98 alone weighed a whopping 17 kilograms. Additional payment was needed. After the normal entry formalities and the registration of the weapons in Windhoek we went on a five-hour drive north to our camp. The next morning it was time for a test shoot. We placed the paper disc at 150 meters. The first two shots were taken as usual seated, but the result was not pleasing. Too deep and too far to the right. Rashid just did not feel comfortable to shoot sitting and the next three shots were over sticks. The hit picture was immediately completely different. All three shots were only a few centimeters apart from each other directly in the middle, vertical about 5 cm deep. All top-placed shots. There was no need for readjustment. The difference in height was certainly because we had used a 405-grain bullet shooting in Ferlach, and a 325-grain bullet in Namibia. Dont forget that we have shot over an open sight and at 150 meters with the Sharps. Rashid had earned the first spurs. Paper is one thing, but what about hunting in practice?

Black-faced impala

Our hunting area bordered directly on the Etosha National Park, with varied terrain, rocky hills, dense bush and open savanna. The main roads lead only to the natural or artificially designed waterholes. From there it was hunting on foot, stalking on fresh track. Our PH Marius had previously told us we might see lions, and this was confirmed on our first hunting day. Not 100 meters in front of our hunting car we saw a group of six lions. Even when we came closer and no more than 30 feet separated us from the cats, they ignored us. There were only lionesses in this group.

Marius pointed to a herd of zebra approximately 300 meters away, the focus of the lionesses’ interest. Then somehow the situation changed, and it seemed the lionesses were not too pleased with our presence. They realized that we were attracting the attention of zebras to us and thus to them. They did not creep closer to the zebras. No unnecessary movment. They knew their chance would come. Sooner or later. This incredible experience told us one thing: To be careful when stalking. We saw large herds of springbok, blesbok, zebra, black and blue wildebeest but also medium sized groups of female Livingstone eland and Marius decided to try our luck with the springbok. The wind was in our favor, and we stopped the vehicle well camouflaged next to a group of trees, about 350 meters from the first springbok of about 110 animals and began stalking. Isolated bushes and smaller trees offer us enough camoflage to approach to 150 meters. Marius indicated the shooter and Rashid was ready on the sticks. At 125 meters the shot broke and was down. The remaining herd fled then stopped further away to watch. We waited a few minutes then went to find the buck. How effectively the Sharps rifle and the 45-70 cartridge brought down the target.

Marius told Rashid how in death the springbok’s white hair tufts stand up behind the tail root and smell of caramel, a scent that comes from glands under the white hair tufts, and that only a few minutes after death the glands close. Sometimes the springbok raise their hair tufts, arch their backs, jump stiff-legged into the air and thereby release this scent to attract females. After the usual photos with trophy and of course the rifle I could make out another buck. Alone, standing between two trees, tugging at some blades of grass. My guess was confirmed by Rashid and, of course, Marius. A very strong old buck. Short question to Rashid and a nod.

The downwardly pulled lower lever, and down sliding case block showed the cartridge insertion into the barrel. The Hornady 45-70 with 325 grains slid into the barrel. Lower lever up and the massive block closed precisely. The target stick at the correct height. Aim at the buck. The light heat waves that you often feel clearly through a riflescope were not an issue here with the open sight. The calm breathing showed Rashid concentrated, already focused the target. Then the bang! Incredible. Open sight, 262 meters, not a big target and a clean shot. Handshakes and hugs to the hunter. Rashid and the almost 6-kilo Sharps have found each other here for life! What a start to a safari. In the evening the plan for the next days were discussed. Black-nosed impala, found only in northern Namibia, is at the top of Rashid’s wish list. All those who have experience in hunting impala know how hard it is to hunt this antelope species, and the fact that they belong to the favorite prey of lion and leopard, makes them particularly alert and shy.

Marius knows his hunting ground very well and guided us the next morning to a favorite place of black-nosed impala. We stop the vehicle about 400 meters from a waterhole and cautiously stalk in that direction. Somehow the wind seems to be allied with the impalas and kept swiveling. After two hours we were finally near the waterhole and saw some impala, but only a few females and young. We left the waterhole and I think in this situation, Rashid would prefer to have a short, lightweight rifle and not an almost 6-kilo Sharps!

Top: Black wildebeest. Bottom: Zebra

Suddenly I saw something brown between all the green, and binos confirmed my guess. Just over 300 meters away was our destiny. To make this one-of-a-kind trophy is one thing, approaching a good shooting distance is another. Rashid was already very familiar with the Sharps and perhaps adrenaline made him forget its weight. Carefully, step by step we stalked closer to 80 meters. This time, Rashid used a fork of a tree as a support and he and the Sharps had the prize of a big, black-nosed impala trophy.

Then we decided to do some wingshooting for sand grouse which flew to different waterholes. Fun factor high, effort low and the resulting taste just delicious and a welcome change between all the game meat. The sand grouse were slowly sizzling on the grill as we planned the next few days. We wanted to see if the Sharps would manage larger game species.

We started with a fantastic sunrise, hot coffee and eggs with roasted kudu meat strips, wonderful crisp morning. First, we drove to the waterholes and left the vehicle 300 – 400 meters away, stalking slowly and always against the wind. At the first two waterholes we only found fresh tracks of three eland bulls and a lot of zebras, but no game around, so continued. On the way to the next waterhole, we passed open grassy areas and Marius pointed to a group of zebras just over 500 meters away. We stopped in the shade of a tree offering plenty of coverage. The terrain and the wind were perfect. Using the bushes, we stalked to within 200 meters zebras. The herd consisted mainly of mares with half-grown foals and some young stallions. We watched them for a few minutes and were just about to start the way back when suddenly a splendid specimen of an old stallion came out behind two trees. We wanted to try to get closer.

Anyone who has hunted zebra knows how hard these boys are to shoot. But Rashid had proved several times that he was an excellent shooter and had the Sharps very well under control, but a full-grown zebra stallion is a different story from an impala, especially using a weapon 130 cm long and weighing about 6 kilos.

We were got to 80 meters from the stallion, which stood alone on the left of the herd watching over its harem. The small bush behind which we were lying on the ground was not big enough to shoot from with sticks. So, my backpack was turned into a rifle rest. While prone shooting may sound easy, it is significantly more difficult than when standing and shooting from the sticks. The stallion had somehow noticed that not 80 meters away from him something moved in bush. He stood directly facing us. We could see his teeth as he fluttered his upper and lower lips. Very clear for us. He would not turn broadside. His next movement would be to flee, and the zebras would leave us in a cloud of dust.

Marius whispered softly to Rashid: “Go straight on the chest.” This is exactly where the heart lies just behind it. I can hardly believe what I see next. The stallion reared up on his hind legs, a 90-degree turn, and he collapsed. That’s it. We were covered in dust by the running zebra herd. When the air cleared, we went to the fallen beast. The 45-70 projectile with a 325-grain load was literally a hit. After souvenir photos along with the Sharps we went back to the camp to watch the autopsy to see which path the projectile took. The bullet had gone straight through the heart. It passed through the pectoral muscle and even struck a bone before it pierced the heart. It was congratulations!

Above and left: Rashid in action

But as with any hunting safari, time always goes by way too fast and too soon the last day of hunting knocks on the door. An eland bull was still wanted. That morning we found tracks of the three eland bulls that Marius knew, an old gray-blue bull escorted by two mature youngsters which the Bushmen say are “askaris”, companions to an old, lone animal. The old bull benefits from the vigilance of the two younger ones and they in turn learn from the experience of the old bull. These three bulls were not half an hour ahead of us. Eland shooting is one of the biggest challenges for most hunters. Patience and endurance are vital. That zigzag behavior is typical of eland if they are looking for a suitable place where they can settle down. This hacking is of course not to our advantage because it keeps you in the wind.

Over three hours passed as we followed Marius till we saw the three eland in front of us. The old bull was almost completely behind a bush and we could only dimly see his head with the long big horns. The two askaris were to his left without cover. We may have been too close, or they got wind of us, but they made a 180 degree turn and stormed off. The strong old bull followed the two, and we could only watch as the whole effort of almost four hours of stalking disappeared in the dense bush. It should have been the culmination of this safari: A 900 kilo antelope from a Sharps 45-70 but it was not to be. But there was no sadness about the unsuccessful 10-kilometer stalk, just a kind of pride: We had done it with the Sharps Monster.

We still had a good seven kilometer walk back to the car.

Just before we reached the waterhole where we had parked, Marius stopped. His trained eye had spotted two gemsboks sheltering from the midday heat in the shade of two trees. The unsuccessful eland was forgotten, and hunting fever was rekindled. The gemsbok had not seen us, and Rashid was ready on the sticks in a few seconds. The bigger of the two gemsbok was standing broadside not 80 meters away. Take a deep breath and shoot. The buck jumped and dropped. Although not an eland, a great gemsbok now concluded our wonderful Namibian safari.

We had come to Namibia with a Sharps 1874 with an open sight to test it for its antelope-hunting capability. Yes, the Sharps is long, and it is heavy. It is a single action and has a rather unusual European caliber in 45-70. Thanks to the open sight with diopter and tunnel front sight and the excellent shooting performance and accuracy, we did not regret at any time the decision to hunt with this rifle. Tastes differ, but no one who got to see this rifle on this hunt could resist a whisper of wonder – a classic beauty! What more could one ask for? Now, the next thought is not so far away: Buffalo hunting with a Sharps 1874.

Campfire Thoughts & Reminiscences Part 18

Jun 8, 2023 | Archive, News, News

Written by Neil Harmse

Chapter 18. The Slug Gun

As I approached my mid-60s, I decided I would ‘retire’ from game hunting and concentrate on wingshooting. I have a passion for vintage and well-made side-by-side shotguns, and it gives me great pleasure to step into the veld with a gun that is over 100 years old and still shoots as well today as it did when it left the gun-maker’s bench.

This is the epitome of the gun-maker’s art. I sold my hunting rifles and kept a selection of favourite shotguns with which to pursue my chosen sport.

Winchester Model 37 slug gun after restoration.

In the areas where most of my wingshooting takes place, I often come across warthog and feral pigs which do a lot of damage to farmers’ crops, causing a loss of income for the landowner.

This sparked an interest in me to hunt these problem animals, but I had no gun appropriate for the task. Carrying a few rifled slug loads in a pocket while hunting birds was not an ideal solution, as these are not at all accurate in my vintage side-by-side shotguns and could be damaging to them. My thoughts turned to a dedicated slug gun.

During a visit to the Krugersdorp workshop of my good friend and gunsmith, Hennie Mulder, I mentioned that I was looking for an old single-barrel 12-bore shotgun such as a Harrington and Richardson, Stevens, Savage or similar to convert to a slug gun as a project.

I noticed a faraway look in Hennie’s eyes as he walked over to one of his storage safes. Scratching around in the deepest recesses, he produced an old, very rusty Winchester model 37 which he had taken into stock many years ago. He offered this old gun to me, saying that if it would serve the purpose, I could work on it in his workshop and he would help where he could.

Despite the exterior rusty and neglected look, the gun was in sound shooting condition. On dismantling it, we found a lot of rust and surface pitting on the outside of the barrel and action, but Hennie assured me that this could all be cleaned up. So a project was born.

The first order of business was for me to polish out the barrel with ISSO bore paste, bore solvent and a piece of ‘Scotch’ pad using a long rod and a drill. With a bit of hard work and elbow grease, the barrel was soon shining again, with extraordinarily few signs of pitting, and appeared to be in quite reasonable condition. Next was using the lathe to cut the 32” (81,28cm) barrel down to a manageable 25” (63,5cm) and carefully crown and polish the muzzle. This also served to remove the extra-full choke and turn it into a cylinder choke, which is ideal for optimum slug accuracy.

Left: Restoration of the Winchester.

Above: The Winchester model 37 before restoration.

Right: Working on the stock.

I had decided to fit a ghost-ring sight which would be tter for my tired old eyes, so I searched for through my boxes of old Magnum magazines and found some articles by Gregor Woods and Koos Barnard covering their ideas and experiences with these sights. I started cutting them out and filing them, and I soon had a couple of prototypes to try out. Hennie had a low-profile, front-sight ramp and bead sight which would serve nicely, but the ghost ring rear-sights I had made were not quite suitable. Scratching among some spares in Hennie’s storage trays, I found a sling swivel ring that I thought would make an ideal sight. At around 4mm, the aperture looked right and if we could find or make a base to mount it on, it would be ideal. Also among the spares, I found a sight base that someone had cut down, which could be adapted. The biggest problem was cutting the radii of the front- and rear-sight bases to match those of the barrel round where the mounting points would be. This was where Hennie’s expertise came to the fore. He carefully worked these down on a lathe until the fit was perfect. He then fixed these onto the barrel with Superglue as a temporary measure until we could bore-sight and test-shoot the gun.

The stock was a bit short and needed lengthening, so I added a recoil pad to bring the length of pull up to my required 14½” (36,8cm). Once this was done, I tackled the stripping and sanding of the stock and fore end, which took a lot of elbow grease. I then started filling, sealing and oiling to bring out the grain and give it a durable finish. I used Birchwood Casey’s True Oil, which I rubbed into the stock in very thin coatings, leaving it to dry and set for a day between applications. This was done over a period of about a week. Once I was happy with the seal and finish, I hand-rubbed a mixture of Schaftol and walnut oil into the wood, repeating it several times. I then polished it with a piece of oiled sheepskin. This took days of hard work, but the wood turned out looking good. Well worth the effort.

Hennie again came to the rescue with his expertise, doing a wrap-around checkering pattern at about 18 lines per inch to provide a good grip, since we figured the lightweight gun would produce a sharp recoil with slug loads. Before polishing and re-blueing, we went to the range to carry out a rough bore-sight and preliminary firing to ensure the sights were correctly positioned before soldering them into place. Hot Power Guns in Krugersdorp has a convenient indoor range that allowed us to test-fire at 25m, which we felt would give an indication of where the shots were going. We used SP Brenneke slugs, as well as African Rifled Slugs loaded with Borra slugs from Italy. These were remarkably similar to the old SP Penetrator slugs. These slugs produced a three-shot group measuring 3,5cm x 5cm. This was the first time I had used a ghost- ring sight and I was impressed with the quick target acquisition it facilitated.

The next and most time-consuming task was removing the rust and grime from the outer barrel, action, interior and flats, as well as all the other nooks and crannies, and then preparing the metalwork for blueing. Fortunately, Hennie offered the help of his able assistant, Sam, who did most of this work. Among his other areas of expertise, Sam was excellent at preparing the metalwork for the bluing tank, so I left this in his capable hands.

When the metalwork was done to satisfaction, Hennie applied his special rust-blueing formula which he used for his custom rifles and shotguns. This produces a deep, rich and durable gun-blue finish to the metalwork which protects it from rust and corrosion.

Well, finally, the hard work and the long wait paid off. The old gun, which had spent years in the back of Hennie’s gun safe rusting away, now had a new lease on life and had been 96 transformed from a dirty, rusty old ‘sow’s ear’ into a functional, good-looking and working ‘silk purse’, which can once again be taken with pride into the hunting field.

My grateful thanks go to Sam, whose draw filing and polishing of the metal to remove the rust and pitting brought it almost to a mirror finish, ready for the bluing tank. Without his hard work, the finish would not have turned out as well as it did. And, of course, my special thanks go to Hennie Mulder for his expert advice and help in achieving the final result of this interesting project.

All that is left now is to arrange a pig-hunt for the ultimate test!

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

Jun 8, 2023 | Archive, News

The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber

Ernest Hemingway (Cosmopolitan, 1936.)

Reviewed by Ken Bailey

The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber, a short story by Ernest Hemingway set in Africa, was originally published in the September 1936 issue of Cosmopolitan magazine, the same edition that ran another of Hemingway’s acclaimed short stories, The Snows of Kilimanjaro. Many consider The Short Happy Life… to be among Hemingway’s most successful artistic achievements. Whether you subscribe to that notion or not, and many don’t, it’s unquestionably an entertaining and deceptive read.

At face value it’s a tidy little tale of a man and his wife on safari, guided by a professional hunter. It opens with the trio returning from a morning’s hunt that saw a lion killed. Macomber initially wounded the lion. When the lion charges as they follow it up, Macomber turns tail and runs, leaving it to Robert Wilson, the PH, to sort out. This cowardly reaction is on full display for Macomber’s wife, Margot, to see. Her reaction is one of derision and revulsion for her husband, and she responds, in part, by slipping in to Wilson’s tent that night for a dalliance that she makes little effort to conceal from her husband.

Wilson, meanwhile, outwardly tries to downplay Macomber’s timidity while actually losing all respect for him. The following day they’re hunting buffalo. They come across three good bulls and drop them all. As they’re approaching one of the downed bulls, a tracker tells them that one of the other two has risen and slipped off into the brush. Another follow up is required, but this time Macomber is determined to show he has the nerves to do it right. And he does, standing up to the buffalo as it charges. His shots are a tad high, however, and at one point Margot, back in the truck, takes a shot, ostensibly to help kill the bull. Her shot, however, hits Macomber “two inches up and a little to one side of the base of his skull.” There ends the short happy life of Francis Macomber.

A simple tale, to be sure, but Hemingway leaves us with many unanswered questions. Foremost among them is whether Macomber was murdered by his wife or whether she shot him accidentally while trying to protect him from the charging buffalo. Love-hate emotions abound here, and the characters are all quite complex.

Margot is a predatory, dominant wife who demeans Francis, in large part, because she can. She would happily divorce him, but fears she couldn’t find another man as wealthy as Francis. Like all predators, she preys on the weak, but you get the sense that down deep she loves Francis, or would, if only he would “man up.” At her worst she cuckolds her husband as a way to show her revulsion for his cowardly actions while lion hunting. At her best, she finds newfound respect for him when he faces down the charging buffalo. Or does she? The reader must decide for themselves.

For his part, Francis loves Margot, while concurrently despising how she treats him. He would probably divorce her, but fears he’d never find another woman as attractive as Margot, who’s a former model. He acknowledges his own timidity, but the lion incident and the subsequent loss of respect from his wife, his PH and the safari staff seems to light a fire under him and he wants to redeem himself, to become the man he wants to be. Hence his eagerness to get after the wounded buffalo.

Wilson, meanwhile, a competent, respected PH wavers greatly in his admiration of Francis. He goes from being an admirer of Francis’ to viewing him with little esteem after the lion hunt, but also feels a little sorry for how he’s treated by Margot. Of course, he’s got a little cad in him, too. He sleeps in a double cot in camp just to be able to take advantage of opportunities like the one Margot presented, and he’s not totally above bending and breaking the rules as we learn on the buffalo hunt. In fact, he leverages his potential witness statement about the shooting of Francis to protect himself against Margot’s comments regarding the illegal nature of the hunt.

The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber is an easy read in one sitting. But, as perhaps few do better than Hemingway, you’ll be thinking about it long after you’ve turned the last page. Most good African hunting literature is non-fiction, but this is one piece of fiction that everyone who appreciates the safari experience should read.

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African Response to UK’s Proposed Hunting Trophy Ban

Jun 8, 2023 | News

On 17 March 2023 a Private Member’s Bill to ban the import of hunting trophies into the UK passed its third reading in Parliament. It was approved by MPs after this reading, but required further scrutiny in the House of Lords before being passed into law. A strong African response has now been submitted for the Lords to consider.

I wrote about this iniquitous piece of proposed legislation in African Hunting Gazette January-June 2023, with the following pertinent extract: ‘It is bitterly disappointing MPs have succumbed to an emotive but misinformed animal rights campaign’, said Amy Dickman, an Oxford University professor who is an expert on lion conservation. ‘This bill will kill more animals than it will save. Hopes for a rational, evidence-based debate now rest in the House of Lords.’

A comprehensive and constructive briefing paper has now been prepared by a group of well-informed and experienced Africa contributors. You can find the full document here: https://www.resourceafrica.net/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/The-Hunting-Trophies-Bill-risks.pdf. We can but hope that sanity will prevail and that the Bill will be revised along the lines suggested by concerned Africans, who will be severely impacted if it is not. The full title of the document is The Hunting Trophies (Import Prohibition) Bill – The risks to conservation, rights and livelihoods. The authors make the following plea:

“The ban as currently proposed carries substantial risks for conservation and livelihoods, as outlined in this briefing paper. These risks have been corroborated by hundreds of experts, including many leading conservation scientists and community conservationists.

It is important their Lordships understand the problems associated with this Bill, in the hope they can improve it and make it fit for purpose. They key problematic areas are:

The content, framing and development of the Bill;
The conservation implications of the Bill;
The economic and livelihoods implications of the Bill;
The human rights implications of the Bill;
The political and diplomatic implications of the Bill.”

The points made in the Executive Summary are pertinent:

The Hunting Trophies (Import Prohibition) Bill, currently before the Lords, is intended to ban the import of hunting trophies from a list of around 6,000 species (as listed in a European Council Regulation now referred to in the Bill as the Principal Wildlife Trade Regulation), although the vast majority of species on this list are not subject to trophy hunting (many are corals and jellyfish).

Over the last 22 years, the UK has imported hunting trophies from only 73 animal species covered by the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES) – and thus covered by the Principal Regulation. Trophy hunting does not pose a major threat to any of these species.

The Bill is problematic for a number of reasons. Key amongst these problems – given that the Bill is intended to support conservation – is that it is likely to undermine conservation success in many countries across Africa and elsewhere.

Trophy hunting is not a key threat to ANY species, according to the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) “Red List of Threatened Species” (the globally recognised authority on the conservation status of the world’s wild species).

For multiple hunted species, even threatened ones, trophy hunting has proven conservation benefits (by reducing far greater threats such as habitat loss and poaching).

Land on which hunting takes place not only provides habitat for the hunted species, but also for countless animals and plants not subject to hunting. In fact, in Africa there is more land on which trophy hunting is used as a conservation tool than there is for National Parks.

Undermining the viability of the hunting industry through an import ban, reduces the incentives for Governments, landowners and local communities to:

keep land as wildlife habitat rather than converting it to uses such as agriculture;
invest in anti-poaching activities; and
tolerate dangerous wildlife.

There are currently no feasible alternative wildlife-based land uses for most trophy hunting areas. Photo-tourism is only viable in select ‘scenic’ areas, where good transport and infrastructure links support a high volume of visitors. The majority of hunting areas will never be viable for photo-tourism. However, hunting can and does in many places coexist with photo-tourism by providing an additional revenue stream.

The Parliamentary debate surrounding the Hunting Trophies (Import Prohibition) Bill has been driven by extensive misinformation from animal rights activists, backed up by celebrities and social media. In the second reading, for example, over 70% of MPs’ statements were found to be false or misleading. The debate has ignored conservation expertise – even that provided by the UK Government’s own scientific advisory body.

The UK aiming to ban hunting imports is hypocritical, given that:

the UK exports many thousands of hunting trophies every year (particularly from red deer in Scotland); and

the UK languishes far, far behind those Southern African countries who will be most affected by this Bill, on conservation performance. The UK is in fact one of the most nature-depleted countries in the world.

The UK Government has suggested that local communities substitute the income lost as a result of a ban on trophy hunting imports by applying for UK aid grants. But encouraging greater aid-dependency demeans the recipients and contradicts the Government’s own Minister for Development and Africa, who said: “international development is not about charity, handouts and dependency.”

Rather than apply a blanket ban on the imports of all hunting trophies, a better way forward would be to allow the imports of trophies where it can be demonstrated that hunting makes a positive contribution to conservation and local livelihoods. Imports that do not meet these criteria would be banned, thus rightly disenfranchising poorly managed trophy hunting operations without undermining those which have demonstrable benefits.

Such an approach is already used by other importing countries, such as the USA, and is in line with the approach that the UK is already able to take under the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES).

Many Britons dislike trophy hunting, but fewer than half want a ban if that would harm people or conservation. Allowing an amendment would fulfil the Government’s pledge, restrict harmful hunting, but limit the potential risks to livelihoods and

conservation.

The UK’s trophy hunting import ban needs to be a smart ban – an open letter – UPDATED

The suggestions made by the African group of conservationists make abundant sense, and surely members of the House of Lords will give these proposals the thoughtful consideration they deserve. We must remember that much of the impetus that drove this proposed Bill through the readings in Parliament was driven by animal rights and anti-hunting activists motivated by emotion and not facts. The media, predictably, added fuel to the fire by largely reporting only one side of the issue.

“The Hunting Trophies (Import Prohibition) Bill has been driven by extensive misinformation from animal rights groups, backed up by celebrities and the media. This misinformation has been highlighted in the UK media, in international media, and in the scientific literature. An analysis led by Oxford University of over 150 statements made in the second reading of the Bill found that around 70% of statements made by MPs supporting the ban were factually incorrect.”

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