Classic and Contemporary African Hunting Literature

Feb 7, 2023 | Archive, News

Africa’s Most Dangerous

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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The Baobab Buffalo

Feb 7, 2023 | Archive, News

Written by Kevin Cunningham

 

It is almost a cliché to say that hunting Cape Buffalo is special. For me it began, curiously enough, many years ago hunting whitewing dove in Mexico with Ralf. Ralf was a successful, greying guy who loved the hunting and fishing life, and who was fortunate enough to have safaried in Africa from the time he was twelve years old. After a hot day of shooting doves, he and I would sip icy margaritas and he would reminisce about hunts and the animals he had taken – hissing crocs, trumpeting elephants, roaring lions, hyenas, baboons, leopards, horned plains game of every sort, and Cape buffalo. To my youthful ears it sounded like high adventure and a test of personal courage. Ralf had been everywhere and stalked everything, but he always came back for buff because, he said, they live up to their reputation for exchanging human damage for a poorly placed shot, and for fighting to the end, especially when they knew who killed them!

 

Fast forward thirty years to a lion-colored grass airstrip in the Save Valley of Zimbabwe. The little Cessna bumped down onto the hard dirt and came to idle in the shade under a towering baobab tree. When the engine shut off, all I could hear was the sound of the wind blowing a dust devil down the runway. A Toyota pickup drove to the plane. The driver got out, a junior professional hunter, introduced himself and me to the trackers, then loaded my gear. We watched the plane lift off over the tree line and turn north. I looked at the red ground and crackling dry landscape of thornbush and tan-barked trees with new green leaves brought on by early November rains. The horizon in every direction seemed 100 miles away. There was no sign of man. A lone silhouette of an elephant lumbered across the far end of the airstrip casting a silent shadow before the setting sun. I was back in big buffalo country, and only the fates knew what would happen over the next ten days.

 

After zeroing my rifles, we arrived at Sango Conservancy. This is the famed reserve of the Pabst Brewing Company family. It is managed to the highest standards in terms of protecting and preserving wild African animals in their free-range habitat and in a sustainable manner that includes very limited hunting. The hunts they allow are under strict quota and are conducted only with select PHs. The money raised helps to support anti-poaching, wildlife studies, and the feeding and livelihood of the workers and their communities. Those funds represent only a portion of the total personal cost to the owners in their continuing and tireless efforts to preserve 150,000 acres (60,000 hectares) of pristine African habitat and its precious wildlife.

 

Ingwe Camp, mine for this hunt, is a private camp, so I had the place to myself except for staff and my PH who stayed in a thatched bungalow across the compound.  I was greeted by staff with a tray of iced melon juice and cookies and shown around. Boss Rob, my PH, would be back shortly as he was attending business at headquarters. I stowed my gear and headed to the bar for an anesthetic after the 34-hour trek from Texas to Zim via Doha, Qatar. I settled into a leather chair on the veranda, watching the last light of sunset filter over the veld, sipped my iconic South African drink – a double brandy and Coke – and relaxed in proper bwana fashion.

A truck ground to a halt and a door slammed. In strode my friend and PH Rob Lurie. I had met Rob two years before under unfortunate circumstances. My previous PH, Phil Smyth, had been killed by an elephant. Rob had stepped in along with other generous PHs to pick up Phil’s booked hunts for the benefit of Phil’s family, and so I had hunted the Senuko camp, about fifty kilometers down valley, with him the following year. We hit it off, and so when he called to offer me a hunt at Sango that another client had cancelled, I jumped at it.

 

Rob is head of the distinguished Zimbabwe Professional Guides Association. Though I have hunted with wonderful PHs from other parts of Africa I have been impressed with the professionalism that Zimbabwean PHs display as a result of their rigorous training and licensing program. Just ask any learner Zimbabwean PH what they have to go through to get a full license to escort clients into harm’s way. You would sooner sign up for Marine Corps boot camp and a couple of years in green hell than go the distance they go to get their ticket. Like Rob, the PHs I have had the privilege and honor to hunt with, are dedicated to preserving an ancient way of life. I got to share that life for the next ten days.

 

After a lovely dinner, more than enough Stellenbosch wine and catching up with Rob, I turned off my bedside lamp and sank into crisp sheets under a mosquito net. It was pitch dark. I listened to the trickle of the stream in the gully below and the chirping and calling of the night creatures. I thought of my rifles, going through a mental checklist – Dakota .416 Rigby bolt action with a new Swarovski Z8i 1.7-13×42 red dot scope for old eyes needing lots of light in often shadowy environments. For years my Z6i had served me well, but the improvements of technology over time enticed me into the new optics. They say in Africa, shoot the largest caliber you can shoot well. I chose the .416 Rigby as it is a legendary caliber for tough African dangerous game. I shot this rifle confidently and killed efficiently and humanely.  My other rifle on this hunt was a new, out-of-the box Hill Country Rifles custom .224 Valkyrie with a Z8i scope for smaller game. I had brought thirty rounds of ammo for each. For buffalo I prefer custom loads – 20 soft and 10 solids from Safari Arms with Swift A-Frame bullets – or whatever is next best available in the post-Covid market. Nothing against production ammo, but if I have the cash and order time, I want to know I have the best. For dangerous game, failure is not an option!

 

The morning knock-knock came at 4am along with a pot of coffee. An hour later, Rob and the team were waiting at first light with the truck.

 

Day one is always a wakeup call. This was real. I was jet-lagged. My shoes were stiff. I was not used to the new sling. I had conveniently forgotten the effect on my arms and shoulders of carrying what is a rather heavy rifle. That first walk of the morning was not like strolling to the shooting bench at home. My muscles were not in shape to follow much younger men all day. No taking a coffee break and chatting with a friend before going to lunch. A sip of water and let’s get on with it! That first day was meant to see how I walked in the bush, how I behaved, how I handled my rifle. By evening I was beat, but hopefully Rob could see that I was getting my muscle memory back, leaving my other life behind and getting mentally into the work at hand.

 Over the next few days we bundu-bashed. Rob and I were in the cab while our trackers and game scout were above us on the top rack and bench where they could see what we could not. Around us monolithic grey boulders stacked up into kopjes. We bundled warmly in the early mornings and sweated in the afternoons, heads on constant swivel for sign and animals. There were the occasional close calls with unhappy elephants, appearing and disappearing lions, menacing shadows moving through the trees, and crocs feasting like Jaws on giraffe legs from the one that I had shot for bait. We ambushed a pair of klipspringers, and the trophy ram dropped to the shot from the .224. With that and a well-placed shot from the .416 on that old bull giraffe the day before, I was feeling good on the gun.

 

Over several days, we crossed paths with buffalo herds that had always passed that morning or the night before. The Dagga Boys’ tracks we saw were too either old or not big enough. One morning we glassed a herd that was climbing a steep bank on an island in the middle of a river opposite us. Most of the herd had moved into heavy cover. There was a big Dagga at the rear. He even looked big through my binos at 400 meters. I watched the tick birds on his rump. He paused, turning a black-horned head to watch us. He lifted his chin, stared, then disappeared in the blink of an eye into a wall of leaves. I was not too keen about crossing the croc-filled river barefoot to take up a stalk on this guy. Fortunately, Rob said the island was too dangerous to hunt. In it were poachers’ snares that caught and wounded elephants, buffalo, lion and leopard. Bumping into predators while hunting wounded animals in those tight quarters or, even worse, meeting wounded animals themselves, could be considered a life-altering experience. For once I was pleased to be excluded from the git-go!

 

As we stood on that riverbank looking at Monster Island (my name for it), I looked behind and around us and noticed the trackers doing the same. We were standing in a tunnel of twenty-foot-high reeds and tangled vines, no different from on Monster Island. I was last in line, so I watched our rear, wondering what shooting at close range in that tangle would be like with a scoped rifle.

 

We crept back out. I began to relax when we got back to the truck until I looked at Rob as he hurriedly started the truck and revved the engine. He was staring hard at a young cow with calf that was barreling down the narrow lane which was to be our exit 40 meters ahead. She came ears flared, trunk held high, and trumpeting. Behind us was another group of clearly nervous head-swinging bulls. I envisioned jumping from the truck at the last second before the inevitable collision, but luckily the cow suddenly backed off for a moment to check on her baby hidden in the bush nearby. Rob wasted no time in scooting past her with spinning tires and throwing up a cloud of dust.  I looked right into her eyes through Rob’s window as we passed.

Over the next few days we bundu-bashed. Rob and I were in the cab while our trackers and game scout were above us on the top rack and bench where they could see what we could not. Around us monolithic grey boulders stacked up into kopjes. We bundled warmly in the early mornings and sweated in the afternoons, heads on constant swivel for sign and animals. There were the occasional close calls with unhappy elephants, appearing and disappearing lions, menacing shadows moving through the trees, and crocs feasting like Jaws on giraffe legs from the one that I had shot for bait. We ambushed a pair of klipspringers, and the trophy ram dropped to the shot from the .224. With that and a well-placed shot from the .416 on that old bull giraffe the day before, I was feeling good on the gun.

 

Over several days, we crossed paths with buffalo herds that had always passed that morning or the night before. The Dagga Boys’ tracks we saw were too either old or not big enough. One morning we glassed a herd that was climbing a steep bank on an island in the middle of a river opposite us. Most of the herd had moved into heavy cover. There was a big Dagga at the rear. He even looked big through my binos at 400 meters. I watched the tick birds on his rump. He paused, turning a black-horned head to watch us. He lifted his chin, stared, then disappeared in the blink of an eye into a wall of leaves. I was not too keen about crossing the croc-filled river barefoot to take up a stalk on this guy. Fortunately, Rob said the island was too dangerous to hunt. In it were poachers’ snares that caught and wounded elephants, buffalo, lion and leopard. Bumping into predators while hunting wounded animals in those tight quarters or, even worse, meeting wounded animals themselves, could be considered a life-altering experience. For once I was pleased to be excluded from the git-go!

 

As we stood on that riverbank looking at Monster Island (my name for it), I looked behind and around us and noticed the trackers doing the same. We were standing in a tunnel of twenty-foot-high reeds and tangled vines, no different from on Monster Island. I was last in line, so I watched our rear, wondering what shooting at close range in that tangle would be like with a scoped rifle.

 

We crept back out. I began to relax when we got back to the truck until I looked at Rob as he hurriedly started the truck and revved the engine. He was staring hard at a young cow with calf that was barreling down the narrow lane which was to be our exit 40 meters ahead. She came ears flared, trunk held high, and trumpeting. Behind us was another group of clearly nervous head-swinging bulls. I envisioned jumping from the truck at the last second before the inevitable collision, but luckily the cow suddenly backed off for a moment to check on her baby hidden in the bush nearby. Rob wasted no time in scooting past her with spinning tires and throwing up a cloud of dust.  I looked right into her eyes through Rob’s window as we passed.

 

I am in no way a professional hunter. I have read Capstick and Boddington and John Taylor and whatever else I could find about African hunting. This time I was hunting my sixth Cape buffalo. I have spent hours looking through binos, hunkered down in grass or behind a termite mound. I have sat around fires talking to PHs and other buffalo lovers about what makes a great trophy. Early on I thought “wide” was the way to go, and then “drop” became the object. I got my “wide” in the Eastern Cape of South Africa and was lucky to have it rank 165 of the many buffalo recorded as of July 2019 in the SCI records. Now, after seven years of chasing them, I only hunt Daggas. Old warriors with fighting scars on their faces and necks, lion claw streaks on their backs, chunks of their hocks torn out by chewing beasts, healed in thick masses. I want to see dropped horns down low to their ears and lots of grey mascara under drooping and wrinkled eyes. I search for a boss that looks like the burl of an ancient oak. I hunt for a “character.”  A helmet of broken horn and one eye would be perfect! Past breeding age, they wander alone or in twos or threes, no longer fighting for herd dominance or breeding rights; they fight to survive another day unprotected except for maybe a loyal mate nearby. I have developed an affinity for them, a kinship that perhaps comes with my advancing age, knowing that there are no hospices in the bush and that the end can come unmercifully slower than from a well-placed bullet. Rob knows what to look for. I trust him when we have stalked two bulls through a searing afternoon only for him to call me off the sticks at the last moment because neither of them is a “proper Dagga.” All I want to hear is a whisper: “He’s a shooter!”

 

And so around 4:30 in the afternoon on the sixth day of the hunt, I put my boots back on swollen feet, bent down to stretch an aching lower back, and fumbled with my shoe laces with hands and arms stiffened from toting the .416. I was definitely on the old man side of the equation.

 

A buffalo had attacked some camp staff not far from our compound the night before. The same buff had chased a man up a tree two days ago in the same area just down by the creek. Rob thought that the culprit might still be in the neighborhood, so we were back in the truck. Sure enough, we cut two Daggas’ tracks in the road not a mile from camp. Rob switched off the engine and we rolled to a stop. The tracks were fresh and big.

 

 As I stepped out of the truck, I put a round into my rifle’s chamber and felt my gut tighten.  I took two deep breaths, checked that I was on safety and fell in behind Rob and our lead tracker. What I like is that generally the stalk is a slow affair.  My legs are not what they used to be. Slow is good.  Making as little noise as possible I looked down, watching the heels of Rob’s boots as we angled down a forested hill towards the creek. I tried to step where he stepped and stop when he stopped. My heart picked up rpms as our progress got slower and more deliberate, until it was two or three steps, then stop and wait, a few more steps, stop and wait. Then we stopped still. Rob looked through his binos, peering around a tree trunk. He slowly turned and smiled at me.

 

“Two Daggas, and one looks like a shooter! We need to get closer.”

The lead tracker moved silently to a large boulder fifteen meters in front of us and slowly peered over the top. He froze. I could feel everyone’s tension rise. I concentrated on looking at Rob’s back in front of me, slowing my breathing to try to relax. Rob quicky moved forward and I followed close on. We reached the boulder. By hand signals the tracker told Rob that the companion buff had run away, but the older one was just on the other side of our boulder, perhaps twenty meters away and not seeing us because of the rock. However, the animal seemed to know something was afoot and was motionless. To our left at the far end of the rock was a small gully that opened into a hollow about four meters across. If the buff chose to go forward, he would emerge into that hollow to our left. In that case I would have a shot at him broadside from about 15 meters. Rob and I crept to that end of the rock and put up the sticks. Rob looked up to the tracker who by now was crouched about three meters above us on top of the rock, looking straight down at the buff just on the other side. The tracker’s hand fluttered.

 

“He is coming!” Rob whispered, this time clear urgency in his voice. “Get ready!”

 

I checked my safety to be sure it was at the half-on position. I gripped the forend of the Dakota firmly in the V of the sticks and made sure my power was on low setting. Looking through the reticle down into the narrow hollow I could see the spot where I imagined the bull would step out. I waited, but nothing happened. I slowed my breathing again and stared through my scope, trying to blink as little as possible. Another minute passed. Rob gestured to the tracker above who signaled back that the animal was just standing still again, listening, smelling, sensing. Just then the tracker changed his hand, pointing in the opposite direction. The buff had turned around and was now moving back down the alleyway from where he had come. Rob and I moved quickly, resetting the sticks on a level place at the end of the boulder where the buff had first been observed. We were about a meter above ground level, but still partially hidden by rock, looking down at the place the buff where should now come out. I again set up on the sticks and waited. Events after that took on a dreamlike, almost like slow motion, but still quickly.

 

The buff emerged into a grassy area. I was on the sticks, moving my red dot around deliberately to find his center mass. He was facing us head down, eating little shoots of brilliantly green grass. He was lit up black and gold by the rays of the setting sun still bright over our shoulders. He looked up in our direction then turned slightly to his left in a quartering position. Rob hissed, “Now! Right on the shoulder.”

 

I shot. The red dot and all around it exploded in my reticle. The buffalo lurched forward instantly and came at us. I jacked another round into the rifle and shot at his hindquarter as he blindly plowed within a few meters of us, passing by our rock. I shot again, this time a raking shot from behind at 12 meters. With that he turned back towards us, coming to a stop at six meters from my rifle muzzle. For the briefest moment he looked up directly at us then turned broadside. At this point my scope was worthless as far as aim, so I looked over it, pulled the rifle in tight to my shoulder and basically shot-gunned my last round into his side just aft of his shoulder. In my peripheral vision I could see Rob’s double at ready in case the buff leapt onto the rock at us, but my last shot had turned him away. He trotted up the hillside near us. At about thirty meters he stopped in the shadow of a massive baobab tree and just stood there, blowing a mist of red with each deep breath. I could hear Rob saying, “Reload.” As I did so, the beast began to sway but his staunch legs would not buckle.

 

“Again. Shoot again,” Rob said.

This time I took careful aim on the sticks and put the last one just behind the shoulder crease halfway up the chest. He did not even flinch. The great head rose. He looked up at the tree and lay down. Still tossing his horns at his unseen enemy he bellowed once, then again, and all went still.

 

It is said in Mashonaland that only great chiefs may be buried under a baobab tree. The greater the chief, I suppose, the greater the baobab. When it is my time there will be no baobab. But I will always carry with me the memory of this valiant old chief and his tree, a sad, but good thing.

 

Ralf would have understood.

Kevin is a lifelong hunter who resides with his two black Labrador dogs on his ranch in Hunt, Texas.

Hunting Lord Derby Eland in Cameroon with Mayo Oldiri

Feb 7, 2023 | Archive, Hunting Stories, News

On the fourth day hunting LD eland we picked up the tracks of two bulls at around 7am and followed them for about 2 hours. The droppings were shiny and moist, and we knew we were close. 

As we moved over a slight hill, I spotted the two bulls moving in front of us, diagonally. Due to thick cover, we couldn’t get in a shot, so we attempted to follow them, but as we reached the point where I had last seen them the wind changed, and as we followed them, we realized that they had caught wind of us and had run. 

Dejected, we continued following them for another two hours and eventually gave up as we saw that they were headed for the park boundary. We were under pressure as Adam had only two more days to hunt due to his obligations at the Super Bowl. 

We decided to take a rest during the midday heat and around 3pm decided to walk up the park boundary to see if there was any movement. After an hour, I saw some roan and then suddenly, a group of 10-12 eland bulls appeared and moved across our front. I pointed out a particular bull and Adam took his opportunity as the bull was on move. 

A single shot and the bull was down.

Campfire Thoughts & Reminiscences Part 13

Jan 16, 2023 | Archive, News, News

Written by Neil Harmse

 

 

Chapter 14. ‘The Hat’ – A Dirty, Smelly Old Friend

 

When it comes to ‘outdoors men’ (sorry, ladies, this is a man thing!), have you ever wondered what it is that sets us apart from one another? I am particularly referring to the older generation of hunters, fishermen, bird-watchers and general outdoors guys. What is it that gives each of us a characteristic, individual look?

 

Well, I have discovered the reason: over the years, we have become attached to a dirty, smelly old friend from which we simply cannot tear ourselves away.

 

 

My favourite hat.

I never realised this until the start of this year’s gamebird hunting season, when John Brelsford – my old hunting and fishing buddy – turned up for its first shoot. At first, I could not quite put my finger on why he looked so different. Then it struck me. He was wearing a brand-new straw hat. John’s normal headgear was a horrible, tattered old straw hat with a broad brim and a few pellet holes through it, splotched with some green and brown paint for camouflage. Without this familiar head apparel, he just was not the same old buddy. He seemed to have changed overnight!

 

Readers familiar with the hunting stories in Magnum magazine and the many tales by Geoff Wainwright may think about the photos of Geoff with that decrepit, floppy felt hat that has become his trademark. Go back a bit further in years and think about that famous game ranger and herpetologist of the 1930s-1950s, CJP Ionides (or, as he was nicknamed, ‘Iodine’ the Snake Man). He sported the most dilapidated, shapeless and grimiest felt dome on his head, a trademark that made him instantly recognisable.

 

Another unmistakable character due to his favourite hat was the famous big game hunter and friend of John ‘Pondoro’ Taylor, Fletcher Jamieson, the Rhodesian elephant-hunter. Fletcher always wore a hat with its wide brim turned up in front, which gave him his famous ‘look’. Rumour had it that he wore his hat this way because the lowered brim behind his head allowed him to catch the slightest sound, functioning like the ears on an elephant.

 

Then it suddenly dawned on me that I, too, have become eccentric because of my favourite choice of ‘lucky’ headgear. My hat started off as a gentleman’s velour felt hat that was fashionable in the 1950s. It belonged to a favourite uncle and on his passing, it found its way into my possession. Over the years, it has become such an old friend that I cannot imagine myself outdoors without it perched on my head.

 

That hat and I have travelled many wilderness trails together and shared many adventures; it sports a gash on the crown where an angry lioness took a swipe at it when I threw it at her. On cold winter mornings in the veld, I have held the hat over a campfire to warm it up before putting it on my head. The interior leather band shows the burns and scorch marks from this habit. It has been used as a ‘water bowl’ for my pointers to drink out of on a hot day when no dam or river was nearby. Together we have shared sun, rain, sleet, hail and dust storms. On many a day, it has shaded my face while taking a midday snooze under a tree and served as a pillow when I have been sleeping out under the stars on wilderness trails. My hat has become a ‘dirty, smelly old friend’.

 

I have been admonished by the lady of the house, who insists that the hat should stay outside with the dogs, as such a thing does not belong indoors in our home. However, as a compromise, it now has pride of place on a hat and coat rack at the kitchen door, demonstrating its status over the other less-used pieces of headgear which have yet to gain character, if they ever do.

 

It saddens me to think that most of the young outdoors men of today will never experience the bond that many of us ‘oldies’ have shared with our dirty, smelly old friends. Today the trend is to step out with a fancy branded cap, or some new, fashionable creation which makes a really great piece of headgear – comfortable and practical – but has much to go through before it gains that characteristic ageing which distinguishes one wearer from another.

 

Give a thought to your friends and their headgear. Think of your own. Do you have a favourite hat that sets you apart from others? If not, you are missing out on a special bond that could develop over many years and bring back many memories and shared experiences.

 

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

Hunting the Big Little Buck

Jan 16, 2023 | Hunting Stories, News

Mountain reedbuck afford a challenge hunt in the wild.

By Daryl Crimp

 

“He’s an absolute monster,” said PH Pete matter-of-factly, “and he lives on this big plateau.”

 

‘Big’ was an understatement. Even ‘huge’ didn’t cut it. The landscape in Eastern Cape is steroid- expansive, and Pete’s ‘plateau’ was the size of Switzerland. The ‘he’ Pete was referring to was a steenbok and, paradoxically, the ‘monster’ was a bit bigger than a hare but smaller than a large puppy. One of South Africa’s ‘tiny ten’ antelope, it is a fascinating animal and extremely challenging to hunt, unless you are a long-range shooter, which I am not.

 

Ironically, hunting these miniature species never appealed to me before coming to Africa, but they grew on me; got right under my skin in fact. The steenbok especially, had won my heart, though initially I was averse to hunting them. They mate for life and the thought of killing a mate didn’t sit well with me. However, once I remembered that a predator could have the same effect, and that a mate could be replaced, my qualms disappeared.

 

I set my heart on a particular diminutive steenbok, and I coveted the little antelope. And his little horns were big!

 

“I have had hunters come back the past two years specifically trying to get that buck,” Pete said, “but those horns don’t get big by him being stupid.”

 

“He’ll be record book!”

 

“Definitely,” Ryan agreed, “for sure.”

 

Wild steenbok through spotting scope.

Sunrise over the karoo.

Karoo landscape – steenbok country.

My two new PHs and I were enjoying an afternoon recce, checking what animals were available and familiarising me with the territory.  Ostensibly, we were after a nice old steenbok, but I didn’t allow myself to get too excited for a number of reasons: finding that buck was like the proverbial needle in a haystack; Africa had already smiled on me that morning – twice – and I felt that hoping for a third was pushing it. The cards were stacked against us, and it never pays to count your chickens.

 

Just on daybreak that morning we had stalked and shot my dream kudu; a very old, black-faced bull, well past his prime, and sporting worn horns that told of a rich and fulfilling life.  It had recently broken free from a poacher’s snare and was dragging the long tether from its neck – had I not ended it there, death would have been a miserable event.

 

While tracker Jimmy was caping the kudu, we hunted further into the long mountain valley. The slopes, basins, cliffs, and undulating levels supported sparse vegetation – native grasses and low bushes dotted here and there. The only real cover was in the main creek or the dongas that fanned down over the escarpment. We were heading to check out thirty-odd mountain reedbuck spread across a sunny face, when Ryan noticed a loner low on the opposite side. It immediately caught our attention because the signs indicated an old animal: it was well away from the main herd, held a harem of two, commanded a very good vantage point, and had an escape route immediately at hand.

 

The stalk was perfect: challenging, remote, and tortuous. Ryan and Pete utilised every trick in the book to squirrel closer. We leopard crawled, bum crawled, lizard crawled, hunched-old-man crawled, and crawled painfully until my knees bled. It was awesome. We used tiny bushes to shield our approach, and all three of us managed to conceal ourselves behind a rock. We crossed 700m as the crow flies over open ground without being spotted. This was real hunting. If I were a long-range shooter, the hunt would have finished in an hour and twenty minutes, and the excitement would be long over.

 

The old ram dozed on his feet, in the sun, 120m away, completely oblivious of us.

Daryl and Ryan hunting in the karoo.

“His horns aren’t as good as I thought,” Ryan said, looking through the spotting scope. “They are well broomed.”

 

“But he’s old,” Pete said. Perfect, in every way. The horns were better than I could have imagined. Not long worn down, but thick with age and maturity and cunning.

 

“It can’t get much better than this,” I said, thanking my PHs for a magnificent morning. Or could it?

Karoo wilderness offers good free-range hunting.

“Steenbok next,” chirped Ryan. I just laughed. It was a novelty having an ADHD professional hunter. But it was time to get the animals on ice and have lunch.

 

“Is that the steenbok you were talking about?” I asked later that afternoon, indicating a dot in the distance.

 

“Tiny bugger – looks like him,” Pete whistled. “Could be your lucky day.”

 

Ryan checked through the spotting scope and confirmed that indeed, my initials were tattooed on that buck’s rump.

 

With no real cover on ‘Pete’s Plateau’, the only real advantage we held was the strong afternoon wind that had picked up. Funnelling over the contours of this monumental landscape, it bent grasses and shrubs, disguising our movement, and masking any sound we made. It also anchored the steenbok and his mate on a lee slope, giving us further opportunity to get close.

 Using a donga, Pete, Ryan, and I doubled over and set off. When opposite the animals, we leopard crawled in single file until we were tucked behind a small anthill, 90m away from our target.

 

The antelope had bedded down in the time it had taken us to cover the exposed ground, so we took reference marks and settled in to wait them out. My knees and legs bore fresh wounds, and my muscles and sinews protested a little too loudly, but I felt almost euphoric. The whole experience had a surreal feel to it, and I kept replaying the morning’s hunts in my mind.

 

“He’s up,” Pete hissed, and I rolled into a kneel behind the tripod. The steenbok stretched and stood broadside – the perfect shot. I settled the crosshairs, squeezed off, and… missed by a country mile! I couldn’t believe it. The sight picture looked fine, but it’s a good liar who tells you he never misses. Fortunately, the little buck gave me a second chance; it ran in a tight circle and stopped on the same spot. That’s where it dropped. 

Tortuous stalks over open ground are required when hunting wild Steenbok.

Daryl felt this old mountain reedbuck was hard-earned.

The huge little steenbok.

The guys couldn’t believe the size of the needle-like horns. The buck was an absolute monster.  They reckoned record-book material, but I’m not into that, so we didn’t run the tape over it. 

I sat against an anthill as the sun set and a baboon barked in the distance, taking in the full measure of the hunt.  In one day we’d successfully stalked three superb old animals, each of a uniquely different species. 

 

If I were a betting man, and I’m not, I’d wager an ‘African Trifecta’ doesn’t come along every day.

United Nations Biodiversity Conference Reaches Landmark Agreement

Jan 13, 2023 | News

The Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD) was opened for signature in 1992 at the Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro and entered into force in December 1993. The CBD is an international treaty for the conservation of biodiversity, the sustainable use of the components of biodiversity and the equitable sharing of the benefits derived from the use of genetic resources.

 

With 196 Parties, the CBD has near universal participation among countries. The Convention seeks to address all threats to biodiversity and ecosystem services. The ‘Cartagena Protocol on Biosafety’ and the ‘Nagoya Protocol on Access and Benefit-Sharing’ are supplementary agreements to the CBD.

 

The Cartagena Protocol, which entered into force on 11 September 2003, seeks to protect biodiversity from the potential risks posed by living modified organisms resulting from modern biotechnology. To date, 173 Parties have ratified the Cartagena Protocol.

 

The Nagoya Protocol aims to share the benefits arising from the utilization of genetic resources in a fair and equitable way, including by appropriate access to genetic resources and by appropriate transfer of relevant technologies. Entering into force on 12 October 2014, it has been ratified by 135 Parties.

 

Nearing the conclusion of a sometimes fractious two-week meeting, nations of the world agreed on a historic package of measures deemed critical to addressing the dangerous loss of biodiversity and restoring natural ecosystems.

 

Convened under UN auspices, chaired by China, and hosted by Canada, the 15th Conference of Parties to the UN Convention on Biological Diversity adopted the “Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework” (GBF), including four goals and 23 targets for achievement by 2030.” (Official CBD Press Release – 19 December 2022, Montreal  

[see link here: PDF version – 469 Kb].

 

One’s immediate and cynical reaction is that any agreement with this number of ‘goals’ and ‘targets’ is nothing more than words on paper and that we should not hold our collective breath to see whether these lofty ambitions can be achieved:

“By 2030: Protect 30% of Earth’s lands, oceans, coastal areas, inland waters; Reduce by $500 billion annual harmful government subsidies; Cut food waste in half.”

Held at Montreal’s Palais des Congrès from 7 to 19 December 2022, representatives of 188 governments on site (95% of all 196 Parties to the UN CBD, as well as two non-Parties – the United States and The Vatican), finalized and approved measures to arrest the ongoing loss of terrestrial and marine biodiversity and set humanity in the direction of a sustainable relationship with nature, with clear indicators to measure progress.

 

In addition to the GBF, the meeting approved a series of related agreements on its implementation, including planning, monitoring, reporting, and reviewing; resource mobilization; helping nations to build their capacity to meet the obligations; and digital sequence information on genetic resources.

 

For example, The Global Environment Facility was requested to establish, as soon as possible, a Special Trust Fund to support the implementation of the Global Biodiversity Framework (“GBF Fund”). The fund would complement existing support and scale up financing to ensure the timely implementation of the GBF with an adequate, predictable, and timely flow of funds.

 

Digital sequence information on genetic resources – a dominant topic at COP15 – has many commercial and non-commercial applications, including pharmaceutical product development, improved crop breeding, taxonomy, and the monitoring of invasive species.

 

COP15 delegates agreed to establish within the GBF a multilateral fund for the equitable sharing of benefits between providers and users of DSI, to be finalized at COP16 in Türkiye in 2024.

 

The agreement also obligates countries to monitor and report every five years or less on a large set of “headline” and other indicators related to progress against the GBF’s goals and targets.

 

Headline indicators include the percentage of land and seas effectively conserved, the number of companies disclosing their impacts and dependencies on biodiversity, and many others.

 

The CBD will combine national information submitted by late February 2026 and late June 2029 into global trend and progress reports.

 

The agreement also embodies the now-compulsory global platitudes about ‘climate change’, the ‘needs to foster the full and effective contributions of women, persons of diverse gender identities, youth, indigenous peoples and local communities, civil society organizations, the private and financial sectors, and stakeholders from all other sectors.’ Also emphasized is the need for a “whole-of-government and whole-of-society approach” to implementing the GBF.

Coral reef. © WiseOceans

The framework’s four overarching global goals

 

GOAL A

  • The integrity, connectivity, and resilience of all ecosystems are maintained, enhanced, or restored, substantially increasing the area of natural ecosystems by 2050;
  • Human-induced extinction of known threatened species is halted, and, by 2050, extinction rate and risk of all species are reduced tenfold, and the abundance of native wild species increased to healthy and resilient levels;
  • The genetic diversity within populations of wild and domesticated species is maintained, safeguarding their adaptive potential.

GOAL B

  • Biodiversity is sustainably used and managed and nature’s contributions to people, including ecosystem functions and services, are valued, maintained, and enhanced, with those currently in decline being restored, supporting the achievement of sustainable development, for the benefit of present and future generations by 2050.

GOAL C

  • The monetary and non-monetary benefits from the utilization of genetic resources, digital sequence information on genetic resources, and traditional knowledge associated with genetic resources, as applicable, are shared fairly and equitably, including, as appropriate with indigenous peoples and local communities, and substantially increased by 2050, while ensuring traditional knowledge associated with genetic resources is appropriately protected, thereby contributing to the conservation and sustainable use of biodiversity, following internationally agreed access and benefit-sharing instruments.

GOAL D

  • Adequate means of implementation, including financial resources, capacity-building, technical and scientific cooperation, and access to and transfer of technology to fully implement the Kunming-Montreal global biodiversity framework are secured and equitably accessible to all Parties, especially developing countries, in particular the least developed countries and small island developing States, as well as countries with economies in transition, progressively closing the biodiversity finance gap of $700 billion per year, and aligning financial flows with the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework and the 2050 Vision for Biodiversity.

 

Among the global targets for 2030: 

  • Effective conservation and management of at least 30% of the world’s lands, inland waters, coastal areas, and oceans, with emphasis on areas of particular importance for biodiversity and ecosystem functioning and services. The GBF prioritizes ecologically-representative, well-connected, and equitably-governed systems of protected areas and other effective area-based conservation, recognizing indigenous and traditional territories and practices. Currently, 17% and 10% of the world’s terrestrial and marine areas respectively are under protection.
  • Have restoration completed or underway on at least 30% of degraded terrestrial, inland waters, and coastal and marine ecosystems.
  • Reduce to near zero the loss of areas of high biodiversity importance, including ecosystems of high ecological integrity.
  • Cut global food waste in half and significantly reduce overconsumption and waste generation.
  • Reduce by half both excess nutrients and the overall risk posed by pesticides and highly hazardous chemicals.
  • Progressively phase out or reform subsidies that harm biodiversity by at least $500 billion per year, while scaling up positive incentives for biodiversity’s conservation and sustainable use.
  • Mobilize at least $200 billion per year in domestic and international biodiversity-related funding from all sources – public and private.
  • Raise international financial flows from developed to developing countries, in particular least the developed countries, small island developing States, and countries with economies in transition, to at least US$ 20 billion per year by 2025, and to at least US$ 30 billion per year by 2030
  • Prevent the introduction of priority invasive alien species, reduce by at least half the introduction and establishment of other known or potential invasive alien species, and eradicate or control invasive alien species on islands and other priority sites.
  • Require large and transnational companies and financial institutions to monitor, assess, and transparently disclose their risks, dependencies, and impacts on biodiversity through their operations, supply and value chains, and portfolios

 

Warns the GBF: “Without such action, there will be a further acceleration in the global rate of species extinction, which is already at least tens to hundreds of times higher than it has averaged over the past 10 million years.”

 

While I am sure that everyone in the hunting community would agree with the need to protect biodiversity, and many indeed do so in a practical way (by making wildlife valuable to communities that in turn look after their animals), I am equally sure that most readers will share my view that this much-lauded GBF is simply another impractical ‘wish list’ that will be impossible to implement.

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

Classic and Contemporary African Hunting Literature

Jan 13, 2023 | Archive, News

Hunter

J.A. Hunter (Harper & Brothers, Publishers, 1952, 264 pages.)
Reviewed by Ken Bailey

 

At times we have a tendency to ignore or belittle the common in favor of whatever shiny new penny comes along; judging by all the love given the new 6.5, .27 and .28 rounds on the market, this is certainly true when it comes to hunting cartridges. Having just reread Hunter, I suspect it’s also true for African hunting literature.

 

For many, in North America at least, with the possible exception of Capstick’s Death in the Long Grass, Hunter was the first African hunting book many of us read. It helped fuel our growing desire to one day visit “the Dark Continent” and forge our own adventures with charging buffalos, rogue elephants and marauding lions. At some point we put this book down and, as our experiences in, and knowledge about, Africa grew, moved on to other literature. That’s excusable, I suppose, as there’s enough compelling reading about African hunting to keep even the most ardent armchair nimrod enthralled for a lifetime. But if you’re like me, and haven’t read Hunter for a long while, do yourself a favor and give it a reread.

 

  1. A. (John) Hunter heard the hunter’s horn growing up on a farm in Scotland in the last decade of the 19th century. A bit of a troublemaker, as a teenager an infatuation with an older woman led to him being sent to live with shirtsleeve relatives in Kenya. That was the kicking off point for his life in East Africa that saw him evolve from working as a guard on the railroad to becoming a PH to working in game control for the Kenya Game Department. In Hunter he chronicles this evolution with a detail that is as descriptive and educational as it is compelling. And it is, most certainly, compelling.

 

By his own account, Hunter describes his book as, “A record of the last great days of big game hunting.” He goes on to say, “I hold a world record for rhino, possible for lion… and I have shot more than fourteen hundred elephant. I certainly do not tell of these records with pride. The work had to be done and I happened to be the man who did it.”

 

As you might expect given his track record, he had many close calls and life-threatening encounters with the Big Five and he describes many of them here with a matter-of-fact precision that allows you to close your eyes and picture the scene as if you were there. This attention to detail, in fact, is one of the attributes that keeps the reader from putting this book down.

 

Each chapter describes a different aspect or experience in his career as a PH and game ranger, from his first safari in the Serengeti and Ngorongoro Crater to culling lions in Masailand to hunting the fabled Ituri Forest in the Belgian Congo. In the chapter, “The Great Makueni Rhino Hunt,” Hunter leads by describing it as, “the greatest big game hunt that was ever undertaken by me – or for that matter anyone else.” Hired to thin out rhinos for the benefit of the local Wakamba tribe, he eventually culls 163 and, as you might expect, experienced many harrowing days in the process. As one humorous aside, he talks about testing the powers of rhino horn as an aphrodisiac, using a time-tested recipe provided by an Indian trader. Hunter’s assessment? “I felt no effects.”

 

If you’re even a modest collector of books about hunting in Africa, you undoubtedly have Hunter on your shelf. Equally likely is that you haven’t read it in quite some time. Believe me when I suggest you dust it off and read it again; you can thank me later.

Giant Sable Conservation in Angola

Jan 13, 2023 | News

Written by Pedro Vaz Pinto 

 

This past year finally allowed us to move forward with routine activities and reach a quasi-normality state after two years of facing all sorts of constraints derived from Covid-19 related restrictions. And on the ground, the year of 2022 did also feel different from the kick-off, if nothing else because in the two previous years, we faced a severe drought in the giant sable areas. But the seasonal rains which started in the last quarter of 2021 intensified significantly throughout the first quarter of 2022 and extended well into May. 

 

It’s a pity that we don’t have a functional weather station, but I felt that this was probably one of the wettest rainy seasons for the giant sable areas in the last two decades. And this sort of change was much needed to fill all the water holes, replenish the water tables and promote vegetation growth. 

 

Because of our movement restrictions during the previous couple of years, we were still unsure of how much the drought could have affected breeding and recruitment in sable herds, but at least now and, dependent on the climate, recovery was on the cards.

 

The major activity scheduled for 2022 was, without a doubt, an aerial survey and collaring exercise in Luando Reserve. The need to conduct a survey and obtain updated numbers had gained importance and urgency as we had recently lost some grip on the Luando population and were unsure of what was going on. There had been confounding factors at play. 

 

On one hand, the Covid years had caused much economic turmoil which was felt locally and led to a noticeable increase in poaching pressure. This fact, added to two consecutive and severe droughts, was a major reason for concern and could potentially be causing a significant decrease in sable numbers. 

 

On the other hand, we seemed to be having some success in tackling poaching, at least apparent from the number of poachers detained or weapons apprehended. 

 

Also, the fact that we had been experiencing a modest but consistent annual demographic increase of sable for the past 10 years, gave us reason for some optimism, guessing that the trend would not be easily reversed. Maybe the population had remained at least stable but there was a lot of uncertainty, and just when the Covid-related restrictions were being lifted, the heavy rains didn’t allow us to intensify movements on the ground, so we had to wait for proper surveys. 

We faced quite a few limitations when choosing the dates for the aerial campaign in Luando. Ideally, we would prefer to do the aerial surveys during the second half of July and into early August. Based on previous experiences, this seems to be the time when a larger percentage of the local miombo trees have temporarily lost leaf cover and most of the grass has burned. In other words, when the vegetation cover is less and the visibility is maximized. 

 

This is a general rule but the climatic factors of previous months are going to affect the conditions and timings. A lot of rain in the wet season will promote a lot of grass growth, which may lead to very intense fires in the dry season, but only after the grass has fully dried out. Also, a rainy season that ends early will anticipate the burnings in the dry season, while one that extends for longer than usual has the opposite effect. With this in mind, August would probably be the best time to conduct an aerial survey in Luando in 2022. 

 

However, we were forced to schedule the operation for a narrow window in early July, as Angola was having general elections in August and it

would be complicated and unadvisable to schedule such a complex exercise around those dates. In conclusion, we would be doing the survey several weeks too early, which we feared could make it harder to spot, count, and dart the animals, but of course, it would be much worse to cancel or postpone the work.

The team

For the 2022 aerial operation, we counted once again on Charlotte Meioux to carry out most of the veterinary work, under the supervision of Pete Morkel, who, apart from his legendary knowledge and experience, has also been a friend, playing a critical role in supporting our conservation efforts over the past 15 years.

 

The other critical component was the helicopter and, as the machines used in previous exercises were not available, we had to find an alternative, and a collaboration with the African Wildlife Conservation Trust facilitated the use of a Eurocopter squirrel B3 chopper operated by the very experienced Namibian pilot Carl-Heinz Moeller. The core team was set! 

 

As for the ground team, this year it was larger than in previous exercises and included young Angolan professionals and researchers, such as Timóteo Júlio from Kissama Foundation, Juliano from INBC, and Marcus Frazão, who is now enrolled on a PhD project in Biology focused on the feeding ecology of giant sable. Among other participants, we had the exceptional sculptor artist Murray Grant, who was working on and will kindly donate a giant sable bronze piece to the project; Carlos Sousa, representing the donor NGO Viridia; plus several other good and very special friends like Filippo Nardin and Genl Hanga. 

 

The very important logistics were secured by our good friends from Quessua, Ruth and David Schaad, and Marco. As always, the operation was done in close coordination with government authorities and we received crucial logistic support from the Angolan Air Force.

 

Objectives

The 2022 July operation had two main objectives. The first, as already discussed, was obtaining a massively important updated census, and the other was darting around 20 animals and deploying 18 GPS Iridium collars. As we assumed the existence of five giant sable herds in Luando, based on previous results, we decided as our goal to deploy at least two collars on females in each herd, plus five collars on bulls. The remaining three collars would give us margin to use on unexpected animals or we could try them on roan antelopes as it would be interesting and useful to understand how the two species segregate in the reserve.

 

The preparations for this operation took quite a long time to arrange and fine-tune and were not devoid of stress. But over the years, we have learned how to proceed and benefit from collaborative efforts with various government institutions, the Angolan military, and private companies operating in Angola.

 

We were a bit concerned about using a new helicopter, which had the advantage of being more powerful than other models we used in the past, but with the drawback of consuming a lot more fuel and being less maneuverable, and adding to the unfavorable conditions this year – low visibility with long grass and thick canopy cover. We feared that the sables could be hard to locate, difficult to count, and problematic to chase and dart from the chopper. 

 

Smooth sailing

Nevertheless, the operation went very well and with good rhythm, and we were able to achieve most objectives sooner than expected. Fortunately, in each of the five herds, there was at least one active collar transmitting a VHF signal, which, adding to our solid knowledge of how the various herds use the landscape based on many years of remote tracking, made it relatively easy to locate every group. 

 

The darting component also turned out to be surprisingly smooth and for a reason we had not anticipated: the long dry grass, especially on the extensive anharas, exerted a lot of friction and drag on the running antelopes, forcing them to slow down the pace and leaving them less prone to sudden change of direction when being chased at full speed. As result, the use of a more powerful chopper, even if a less agile machine, turned out really well, and overall this was surely the most efficient darting operation we conducted in Luando to date. 

 

Following our initial plans, we collared two females on each of the five giant sable herds of estimated ages spamming from 3 to 14 years old, including one recapture (Vian, replacing the GPS collar which had been deployed in 2019). We collared five solitary, mature but relatively young bulls, of 6 to 9 years of age, the older, Mario, also being a collar replacement. 

We then proceeded to collar two cows and one bull roan antelope. Three other animals were darted and marked but not collared, one roan cow and one sable bull for being too old, and one roan bull because it was injured.

 

If finding the groups and darting sables proved to be quite straightforward, we did struggle to obtain an updated census of the population. Probably because it was too early in the season. The herds were often dispersed and they weren’t forming as large and compact groups as they tend to be later as the dry season progresses. 

 

On top of this, the long dry grass made it very difficult to photograph the groups and count the animals, especially calves and young sables. Interestingly, we also struggled to find solitary giant sable bulls, possibly because dominant bulls are very confident and can hold their ground arrogantly when the helicopter approaches and become hardly visible if they are in the woodland under the canopy. This situation will change later in the season when most of the grass burns and the trees lose their leaves, making the bulls stand out in the barren landscape. 

 

At the end of the aerial surveys, we lacked enough data to assess the trends and certainly could not provide updated numbers. Some herds seemed to be doing ok while others appeared to be in bad condition, but most groups were scattered and this update was inconclusive. Maybe there were some missing subunits, and a good number of females isolated for calving etc. In order to count them, we would need to return later and try to drone the herds.

Evidence of poaching

 

As always, we are sad to report on evidence of poaching picked up during the campaign. Three of the darted animals, all bulls, had been victims of snares. 

 

The worst case was our recaptured sable bull, nine-year-old Mario, who had barely survived a recent encounter with a snare trap. His left foreleg was in shocking condition, with the snare cable now embedded into the hand tissue and having exposed flesh replacing the hooves. We darted Mario and treated his injury and replaced his GPS collar. We expect Mario’s wounds to heal and he should make a relatively good recovery, but it is doubtful if he may ever be dominant. Most likely he will never stand a chance to compete with other bulls and breed. 

 

Then, and much to our surprise, during this operation, we also came across evidence of neck snares. One darted roan bull was injured and carried a wire cable around his neck. As result, he had an infected wound on his upper neck near the back of the skull. But it was recent and we were able to treat it, so we expect the poor animal to make a full recovery soon. We also darted another sable bull, with an obvious scar around his neck, indicating that he had survived a neck snare after a long-suffering period. These types of snares are designed to catch large animals with the snare fitting around the neck rather than catching them on the feet. Head snares are commonly used in southern Angola but are only seldom recorded in the giant sable areas, and it was the first time we came across them in Luando. 

In addition, we also came across various lines of foot snares surrounding recently burnt patches of grass. Worryingly, we realized that some of the new traps were more sophisticated, integrating simple but ingenious mechanisms and combining different materials to tackle very large animals and minimize the chances of them getting away. It seems clear that local poachers are stepping up their techniques and methodologies, almost surely getting more efficient, and specifically targeting the larger antelopes in the area, which are roan and giant sable. This was a most worrying find, likely another indirect result of the previous two chaotic years, and suggesting the possibility that some of the poachers might be newcomers from other regions.

Send out the drones

 

Having failed to complete a good aerial census early in the dry season, we planned a different approach for later in the year. 

 

At end of September and into early October, timed to coincide with the mating season, we used the daily tracking data retrieved from the collars to approach all the herds and film them from above with drones. The various herds are located in remote areas with poor ground access and the seasonal rains also started earlier than expected, so we had to overcome several logistical challenges. 

 

For this 10-day long exercise, we took the two battered Land Cruisers, a couple of quad bikes (one broke down along the way and had to be towed back on return), and a couple bikes, and camped along the way. We kept satellite communications with the office, who provided updated coordinates for the location of a collared female. 

 

Typically, we would progress in convoy cross-country until getting reasonably close to the geo-location transmitted by satellite, making the first stop somewhere between two to ten kilometers away, depending on the terrain. From there we proceeded with bikes, preferably upwind, started to triangulate the radio-telemetry as we got closer, and updated often with satellite data. Then, at 1.2 to 1.5 km we would park the bikes and continue on foot. Finally, we would make the last stop at some 600 to 900 meters before the herd, and launch the drone. 

 

Finding the herds by drone can often be quite difficult, especially through the miombo canopy. It took us a couple days and several trials and errors, but eventually, we fine-tuned the methodology, defining the optimum flight height and camera angle. We had to return to a couple herds twice, but eventually, we were able to film all but one collared female and obtained some really spectacular footage. More importantly, we obtained the much-needed population demographic data. 

 

Population count

We found that three of the five herds had split into two subgroups, and for two of them, we failed to record the second unit. It’s still early days to determine if these subgroups will re-join or indicate the genesis of new herds. Even though we did not necessarily film all the sable, based on complementary data obtained in July and previous years, we can infer total numbers with some confidence.

 

Overall, the population numbers obtained are disappointing and quite concerning, pointing to around 155 sables in Luando, and therefore suggesting an estimated decrease of around 10% over three years, from the 170 estimated in 2019. Such a result is alarming and inverted a positive trend that lasted for over a decade, but I believe the causes can be easily dissected. 

 

Two years of global madness have severely disrupted our monitoring activities and made law enforcement much harder too, while at the same time, leading to an economic crisis, local unemployment, and the unavoidable increased poaching pressure. And coinciding with this, we faced two consecutive years of drought which must have affected sable breeding and calf survival. I guess this creates a perfect storm. 

 

Even though we lost about 10% of the population over three years, the loss was not homogenous, and not all herds performed badly. It turns out that the herd located closest to the ranger post actually increased by about 50% over this period, while two other herds located within about 20km of the ranger post managed to remain approximately stable. The bigger losses were suffered by the more distantly-located herds, losing between 25% and 45% of their numbers. 

 

The fact that the distance to the ranger post seems to be such a good predictor of herd performance clearly shows that poaching is the main factor driving sable demography, and also strongly suggests that the rangers have been quite efficient within a relatively short distance from the post, but their influence dropped significantly further away. The poachers are likely aware of these shortcomings, and it seems clear that we need to address this in the near future. A good place to start might be building a second ranger post in another remote and strategic area, and this will be a priority task that we will try to accomplish in 2023.

Unfortunately, we had major issues with GPS collars, with a good number failing within the first six months. For reasons which are not entirely clear yet, the collars deployed in bulls seem to be more prone to catastrophic failure. By December 2022 we had lost half of the six such collars (two on sable bulls and one on the roan bull) and a fourth collar is only just lingering and very occasionally communicating. 

 

So, we’re now down to two perfectly operating bull collars – the ones deployed on bulls that had been victims of snares. It appears collars last longer on physically handicapped males which could be something to do with their behavior and/or collar fitting. 

 

This issue is something we are looking into and discussing among the team and the collar manufacturers, and hopefully, we will sort it out for future campaigns. We also lost three female collars due to malfunction (a fourth collar was lost for entirely different reasons which will be explained further down), but at least we still keep track of the five herds, including one still split into two subgroups.

 

Skilled poachers strike Luando

As mentioned earlier, we also lost a fourth female collar, but this one under the most nefarious circumstances. Julia, until then a young and healthy seven-year-old female was the victim of poaching. By interpreting the remote data retrieved from the satellite collars, we were able to almost see the drama unfolding early in September. 

 

Julia moved into the Luando floodplain with the rest of her herd to drink, and soon after the other collared female returned to the woodland while Julia remained stationary. The following day the collar was not transmitting. The pattern was highly suspicious and we immediately tried to send the alarm to the rangers. 

 

Unfortunately, we faced a few communication issues and, due to the remoteness of the area, it took another 48 hours for the ranger team to arrive on the site to check. By then it was already too late! Julia had been killed and the poachers had already left the scene. 

 

When poachers kill a large antelope such as a sable, they face two immediate problems:

 1) They know they have killed a highly valuable and protected species, so they need to be extra careful; and 

2) to be able to process such a large animal they have two options. Either they move away from the reserve quickly while taking whole fresh carcass – which is quite risky as they can be seen by villagers so this is only possible if they are relatively close to the border; or they smoke the meat on a nearby camp, an activity that may take them at least a few days during which they will also be vulnerable. In the past, we have often come across the “smoking” camps, and if this was the case with Julia, we would have arrived in time to intercept the poachers.

 

Unfortunately, Julia had been poached right next to the Luando river, making it relatively easy for the poachers to get away by crossing the river into safety within a few hours. These poachers were actually quite efficient and made an almost clean job at hiding all the evidence of what had happened – we would never have figured it out if it wasn’t for the remote tracking. 

 

The first thing they did was destroy the collar, which was enough for us to realize that something bad had happened, but limited our understanding of the scene and suggests that the poachers knew, or suspected, that the collar could be compromising for them. Then, they tried very hard to clean up the scene, covering all signs of traps and removing any evidence that could suggest a sable had died there. 

 

When the ranger team first arrived at the crime scene, they found nothing suspicious and had to double re-check the GPS data and conducted a more thorough investigation only upon our insistence. Eventually, they did find the half-hidden holes where eight gin traps had been strategically placed around the water hole. 

 

Furthermore, the rangers were curious to note that more bees were swarming on a certain nearby patch of dry grass rather than at the water, and under that grass, they found a pool of blood, a sable horn tip, and some tiny bone fragments. 

 

This was the final piece of evidence and revealed the likely spot where the poor female went while struggling, breaking the horn tip, and the bone fragments must have been splinters from a fractured leg. Nothing else was found, and the collar is still missing, it must have been destroyed and either thrown into the river or buried. 

 

The incident is still under investigation, but realistically we may never find the culprits. This, of course, illustrates what the most direct threat to the survival of giant sable is. We collared 10 females and lost a young one to poachers within six months. It’s not a good sign. Throughout the year, the rangers also detained several poachers and confiscated a good number of snares and weapons. Let’s hope 2023 will unfold more in our favor in Luando.

 

Cangandala National Park

Contrasting to the situation in Luando Reserve, the giant sable numbers have kept increasing steadily in Cangandala National Park. 

 

The giant sable herd in the sanctuary in Cangandala is doing very well, with the animals habituated to our presence, and based on our routine monitoring, we estimate the numbers to be around 115 sables. These numbers suggest that Cangandala is likely maintaining an annual increase of around 10 to 12%. 

 

Overall, the growth in Cangandala compensates for the loss recorded in Luando, although not by much. But at least we can state the global giant sable population is still increasing, even though Cangangala currently accounts for about 42% of the total, which is clearly unbalanced if one considers that in this park they were virtually extinct 15 years ago and that Luando is 15 times larger in land surface area. 

 

Breeding and calving seem to be progressing exceptionally well in Cangandala, but the social dynamics are now quite complex and difficult to keep track of. The older bull, good old Mercury, the first calf to be born in the sanctuary in 2010, was spotted and photographed a couple of times this year. Mercury was healthy and relaxed, but his collar is no longer active and he seems to have chosen a life of solitude and is apparently avoiding or ignoring the female herds and all the bull frenzy that comes with it. It’s the same with other older bulls, such as the exceptional Eolo, which I encountered only once by chance. 

 

On the other hand, quite a lot of younger bulls now seem to evolve around the herds, and it was quite interesting to observe their behavior during the breeding season, in September and October, when at certain times, more than 20 bulls would surround the females. Hierarchies were set and occasionally challenged, but nothing serious, and it is quite amazing to see how so many testosterone-pumped bulls orbit around several receptive females without fighting. 

 

Despite the consistent growth in Cangandala, remarkably we still have some poaching incidents happening inside the sanctuary, as several sables show snare injuries. This is shocking and a major concern, which we are trying to tackle at the moment.

 

All considered, 2022 was another rollercoaster year; we had some good wins and some frustrating losses, but overall I feel we are making progress and I expect 2023 will be a better one! 

Bongo Hunting

Dec 12, 2022 | Archive, Hunting Stories, News

Written by Frank Zits

 

After the Big Five (lion, leopard, rhino, elephant, and Cape buffalo), hunting forest bongo possibly rates next, or at least high, on the list of dream safaris for most African game hunters. There are two types of African bongos, the western or lowland bongo and the mountain bongo. The western bongo is found in the dense forests of western and Central Africa, Cameroon and Republic of Kongo while the mountain bongo inhabits the forests of central Kenya.

 

I was fortunate enough to hunt western bongo on five trips between 2014 and 2018 in the Central African Republic (CAR) with the renowned professional hunters, Jacques LeMaux and Thomas Kolaga. I hunted in an area called Rafai, which is approximately 550 miles east of Bangui, the capital of CAR, and along the edge of the Bomu River, near the Congo border.

 

The challenge of hunting bongo starts with getting there. It did not help that CAR was in the middle of a civil war (still ongoing) that erupted in 2012 when the Selena, a coalition of rebel groups, accused the government of failing to abide by peace agreements, which led to the ousting of President Francois Bozize. The CAR is a beautiful country with vast forests, but has been plagued by war and poverty. The CAR was a French colony from the late 19th century until 1960 when it gained independence. French and Sango are the official languages, but there are scores of other regional and local languages and dialects. The pygmy forest people that we hunted with spoke their own ancient language as well as French. However while bongo hunting few words are spoken and most communication is made through hand gestures.

Pygmies are some of the best trackers in the world. The team consisted of seven men. The PH, two porters, three trackers and the client. The men will stay on a specific set of tracks until the track is lost, at which point the trackers would fan out in different directions based on intuition. As soon as one of them picks up the trail, they would tap on their leg and the others would fall into line behind the lead tracker. The Pygmy trackers are accompanied by their hunting dogs. The dogs are on leash until the bongo is located, startled, and breaks cover. These dogs are bred for hunting bongo, and also for hunting monkeys and duikers in the off season for food.

 

Bongo are the second-largest (after eland) and one of the most colorful among African antelopes. The western bongo has a deep orange color with vertical white body stripes. It has a black face with a white chevron nose marking. They are primarily nocturnal and depending on the location can weigh 600 pounds. The bongo in the CAR are larger bodied due to the many grass areas between the Boma forests.  A bongo can live more than 20 years. As they get older their horns not only grow longer, but they start to splay to the outside as seen in the some of these photos. Typically, your PH will be looking for an older solitary male. The tracking process could take 2-5 hours. If the male is joined by females or sub-adults, the PH will call the hunt off and start again the next day on a new track. If we continued it would be likely the dogs would pursue the younger or weaker, rather than the trophy male.

 

Bongo live in the dense vegetation of the rain forest. The rays of light filter through the forest canopy. You learn to move slowly and carefully, using pruning shears to snip small vines as you go. You have to move slowly because many times animals are very close. When tracking bongo in the deep forest, you look for tracks near saline’s or mineral springs. The Pygmy people are wonderful to work with. Their sixth sense, vision and hearing is incredible. They don’t miss anything. Once, one of our trackers was pointing to one of the thousands of towering trees that make up the forest canopy. He explained that there was a snake going into a hole looking for bird eggs.  I had to use my binoculars to see it. It was forty feet up in a tree and eighty yards away! You learn to trust the Pygmy’s instinct as they are walking ahead of you.

Hunters always take photos of their trophies in the field, but for taxidermy reasons, I always take additional detailed reference photos and I encourage my clients to do the same. It is important to photograph each side of the animal’s face, including the top and bottom. When I mount an animal, I refer back to the photos for the specific characteristics of the animal. These references help us with the bone structure, muscles, and veining to accurately depict the original animal. It is also helpful to have pictures of the animal’s neck and overall body proportions. 

 

As I noted, bongos are known for their brilliant dark orange color with vertical stripes. There is a beautiful contrast between these colors and the green vegetation. Often they are mounted in an alert position to show off the length of their horns. However, in the forest, you will generally see bongos with their heads lowered and their horns laid back. They do this so that they can run through the thick vegetation with ease.

 

When we build the habitats or dioramas around mounts, whether it be for a typical client’s trophy room or for larger installations, like Johnny Morris’s of Wildlife Museum in Springfield, Missouri. I frequently look back to my photographic references and notes for inspiration. Johnny Morris’s museum has many different African displays and environments in which we were very fortunate to work closely with him, his designers and fabricators on. We mounted over 160 life size African mammals and birds.

Left: Frank with bongo no2 33″.

Right: Large bongo mount at convention.

Central Africa Season 2014.

Detail of light reflection on water in forest.

While I am on these expeditions, I photograph trees, the texture of the bark, the leaves, what the trees look like from a distance and also how the light shines through the forest canopy. A good mural painter can paint the way the light comes through the forest at a certain time of day. As an observer you are able to tell whether it is morning or evening light.  It is great when you see this accurately depicted.

 

Water clear resins are use d to duplicate the springs or streams in the forest and reflections of light on the water. When I worked on the museum project, I worked with two of the top muralists in North America, the Wolken brothers, Adam and Aaron, from Springfield, Missouri. They spent seven years researching, designing, and painting murals for the museum with great attention to detail in their painting of landscapes, skies, trees, vegetation, as well as other animals. Many of their murals captured a specific time of year and direction of light in the forest. Their work is on par with the murals in the Museum of Natural History.

 

I have been fortunate to hunt many parts of Africa. Despite it’s challenges, bongo hunting is at the top of my list.  A bongo hunt is like no other African hunt, and should you find yourself planning one of these trips you won’t be disappointed.

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