This letter appears to have been written by Roualeyn Gordon-Cumming, a Scottish hunter and traveler, to his publisher, John Murray III. Gordon-Cumming spent five years from 1844 to 1849 in what could be the longest safari ever undertaken, travelling in the Northern Cape, Botswana, the Limpopo Valley and the former Transvaal.  His book, Five Years of a Hunter’s Life in the Far Interior of South Africa was first published by John Murray in 1850 and proved very popular for several years, briefly exceeding Charles Dickens’s sales.  Gordon-Cumming knew Livingstone, who was the only missionary he could turn for help and, often, guides.  While Livingstone supported Cumming’s book, Cumming’s activities brought him considerable trouble.

Poste Restante, Inverness.

19 May 1849.

My Dear Murray

I wish to thank you for your courteous reception of me and my manuscript at 50 Albermarle Street last month, soon after my return from South Africa.  I have had some time to think over the questions you asked me then, on which were the two most dangerous experiences I had.  I agree my answers would be useful in creating interest in the book, especially for reviewers.

While I have often been exposed to death wittingly, as in several very close encounters with lions, elephants and rhinoceroses, none comes close to two experiences, when I did not even realise my men and I were in danger.  The first, which I describe in this letter, concerns being stalked by a man-eating lion at night.  The second, described in the second letter, is when a far smaller but equally dangerous enemy, the Tsetse fly, nearly caused the end of our expedition.  Only Dr Livingstone’s timely assistance rescued us from a lonely death in the wilds of Africa.

As both experiences are described more fully in the manuscript, I will omit some details in these letters. 

Let me begin with the appalling tragedy of 29 August 1847.  I had recently decided to turn homeward, for two reasons.  Men we met had spoken of Moselekatze, then residing not far ahead of us, as someone who would most unquestionably murder me and my men, and seize all my property.  I was also warned that I would lose all my cattle from a fly called “Tsetse” in the country ahead.   Would I had found out more about this fly then!

On the 29^th we arrived at a small village of Bakalahari, who told me elephants were abundant on the opposite side of the Limpopo  river.  I accordingly resolved to halt there and hunt, and drew my wagons up on the bank of this river, within thirty yards of the water, and about one hundred yards from the village. 

Having outspanned, we at once set about making a kraal for the cattle from thorn trees.  Since my recent   loss from lions of two of my best horses on the first of this month, my cattle were, at night, secured by a strong kraal, which enclosed my two wagons, with the horses being made fast to a trek-tow [touw] stretched between the hind wheels of the wagons.

I worked till near sundown with Hendrick, my first wagon driver – I cut down the trees [thorn trees if available] with my axe, and he dragged them to form the kraal.   When this work was nearly finished, I turned my attention to making a pot of barley broth for supper, and lighted a fire between the wagons and the water, close to the river bank, under a dense grove of shady trees, making no kraal around our sitting place for the evening, as I did not then think it would be necessary. 

The men, without any reason, made their fire about fifty yards from mine.  As was their custom, they were satisfied with the shelter of a large dense bush behind them.  The evening passed cheerfully.  Soon after dark, we heard elephants breaking tree branches in the forest across the river, and once or twice I walked away into the darkness and stood some distance from the fire to listen to them. 

At the time, I did not realise how dangerous this was, and that a man-eating lion was nearby, watching our movements carefully.  About three hours after the sun went down, I called my men to come and fetch their coffee and supper, which was ready for them at my fire.  After supper three of them, John Stofolus, Hendrick and Ruyter, returned to their own fireside and lay down. 

A few minutes later, an ox walked out the gate of the kraal to the back of it.  Hendrick got up and drove it back inside the kraal, and then went back to the fireside to lie down.  Hendrick and Ruyter lay on one side of the fire under one blanket, and John Stofolus lay on the other. 

I was then taking some barley broth, and the night was dark and windy.  The fire was very small as wood was scarce, most have being burned by the Bakalahari in their fires. 

Suddenly, the appalling and angry roaring of a blood-thirsty lion burst upon my ear within a few yards of us, followed by the men shrieking.  Again and again, the roaring was repeated.  We heard John and Ruyter shriek “The lion!  The lion!”, and for a few moments we thought the lion was merely chasing one of the dogs around the kraal. 

But then John Stofolus rushed to us, almost speechless with fear and terror, his eyes bulging in their sockets, and shrieked out, “The lion! The lion!  He dragged Hendrick away from the fire beside me.  I hit him on the head with a burning branch, but he would not let go.  Hendrick is dead!  Oh God! Hendrick is dead!  Let us take fire and seek him!”

The rest of my people then rushed about, shrieking and yelling as if they were mad.  I was immediately angry, and told them if they did not stand still and keep quiet the lion – or lions- would catch more of us.  I ordered the dogs to be made loose, and all available wood placed on the fire. 

I then shouted Hendrick’s name, but all was still.  I told my men Hendrick was dead, and that even a regiment of soldiers could not help him now.  I released the dogs, and brought everyone inside the kraal to the fire, and closed the entrance as best we could. 

My people, terrified, sat round the fire holding their guns till day broke, expecting the lion to return and jump into our midst at any moment. 

Outside, the dogs soon found the lion, who lay within forty yards of us all night.  They kept up a continual barking until day dawned.  Occasionally, the lion would spring up and chase the dogs toward the kraal.  He had dragged poor Hendrick into a little hollow just behind the thick bush where the men had made their fire and settled down to sleep, and there he stayed all night, crunching his victim’s bones and ignoring our presence. 

We later realised that the lion had seen Hendrick leave the fire and drive the ox back into the kraal.  He had scarcely lain down when the brute sprung on him, biting him on the breast and shoulder, all the while feeling for his neck.  Once the lion had found Hendrick’s neck, he then dragged him behind the bush into the darkness. 

As the lion lay on poor Hendrick, he faintly cried “Help me, help me!  Oh God, men, help me!”  After this, the fearful beast seized his neck and then all was still, except that his comrades heard the bones of his neck cracking beneath the teeth of the lion.   

The next morning, just as day began to dawn, we heard the lion dragging something up the river side under cover of the bank.  We drove the cattle out of the kraal, and then proceeded to inspect the scene of the night’s awful tragedy. 

In the hollow behind the bush, where the lion had lay consuming his prey, we found one leg of the unfortunate Hendrick, bitten off below the knee, with the shoe still on the foot.  The grass and bushes were all stained with his blood, and fragments of his pea-coat lay around [A pea coat was an outer coat, generally made from navy-coloured heavy wool].

Poor Hendrick!  I knew the fragments of that old coat, and had often seen them hanging in dense bush where elephant had charged after my unfortunate after-rider [after-rider being the man riding after Gordon-Cumming, often carrying an extra gun.  Gordon-Cumming, and sometimes Hendrick, were often chased by elephants and other wild animals].  Hendrick was by far the best man I had about my wagons, of a most cheerful disposition, a first-rate wagon driver, fearless in the field, willing and obliging; his loss to us all was very serious.

In the manuscript, I then describe how I caught the lion the next day, and killed him with two shots.

I trust this account will [be] of interest to possible readers.  While next account is less frightening, it still shows the dangers of Tsetse fly to travelers.

Yours faithfully

Roualeyn Gordon-Cumming                

By Drew H. Butterwick – Photographer & Wildlife Conservationist. www.epicwildlifephotos.com

I guess you could pretty much say I’ve spent the majority of my life bouncing around the globe, chasing wildlife. As of 2023, I’ve stamped about 40 countries in my passport, including accumulating nearly two year’s worth of time, on multiple trips, to Africa. I’ve been behind the still camera and video lens for thousands of hours and been incredibly fortunate to witness some of our wildlife’s most amazing feats; some cute, some harsh, some beautiful and others hard to even describe without the images themselves. I’ve experienced so many fiery sunrises and sunsets, on my early morning and late-night voyages, it is simply impossible now for me to look back and try to count all the precious moments. But I always stop for a moment, to appreciate each and every unique day.

These are some of the frames and works I’ve created, to give a taste of my experiences, to portray her story in a positive light and give respect to these bold and majestic creatures and scenes! If the idea of accompanying me on a photographic safari is of interest, I look forward to hearing from you. Enjoy … Cheers!

For more images by Drew Butterwick, click here.

AFRICAN GIANT

There is a silhouette on the mountain,

See it? It moves….

There is a noise on the mountain,

Hear it? Almost soft enough to lose….

There are more now,

Than before,

That lumber with an unexpected grace,

There is a grey to their blackness,

And weaving trunks on the face.

See swooping ivory,

A polished, glorious find,

Still unburied treasure,

The type that must be tracked,

Not mined.

There is an invisibility to them,

Move and you’ll see,

They know where you are,

They say they can dream where you’ll be.

I followed these creatures,

Through brush so thick you must crawl,

And they rise like a great mist,

Mightier and greater than us all.

They appear by magic,

They leave with no trace,

What was once a trail,

Is an un-trackable place.

You find them sometimes,

When you least expect you will,

And there is a strange sensation,

Of facing that which is more equipped than you,

To kill.

They are large,

There is no other way to say it,

And there is a tremble in their charge,

And there is great fear for those who face it.

Ears back, head down,

Treasure sweeping the floor,

A trumpet that pierces,

A war cry and call.

So majestic, so strong,

So steadfastly defiant,

We can bow down respectfully,

For the African Giant.

~KENDAL-RAY KASCHULA

SILENT DEATH

If death is silence,

Then it is that unseen ripple,

That moves beneath the water,

And proves that safety is an illusion-traitorous and fickle.

It is not a Warner,

It does not live by fair play,

It is simply the winner,

For those too slow to get away.

We read them in history,

These brutes and these beasts,

Dinosaurs of epic proportions,

Completing epic feats.

He is their cousin,

Their brother,

Their son.

He is their student,

A star pupil in work well done.

He is sly, and cruel, and some would say mean,

He is a cheater,

An abuser,

The one who never gets seen.

He is criminal and crime,

He is a wet death,

He is roiling and rolling,

He is pulling out your breath.

The water is still,

Then the volcano will erupt,

The water is spraying, 

Still again-the ending is abrupt.

The water will waver,

And ripple and churn,

But the blue is died red,

And above the mourners yearn.

These victims are lost,

The graves life empty,

And he still swims beneath the surface,

His own great entity.

~KENDAL-RAY KASCHULA

Written by Enrich Hugo

Hardly any other wild species poses as many puzzles for zoologists as the Barbary sheep. Can the closer relationship be assigned to the goats or the sheep? Many zoologists place it under a separate genus called Ammotragus. Ammotragus comes from Greek and means sand goat. In common usage we mostly find names like Barbary Sheep, Maned Goat, African Tur and especially Aoudad, a term that comes from the Berber language.

The natural habitat of the Aoudad extends across all of North Africa. From Morocco to Chad to Sudan, the Aoudad has adapted to each different habitat. From the rocky, often snow-capped Atlas Mountains to the extremely arid Nubian Desert, this reddish-brown, horned wild species can be found. It is named after the long throat hairs, which are much more pronounced in males than in females.

After HuntGeo managed to open Sudan to international hunters again after 10 years, where the Aoudad is also native to the Nubian Ibex and the Eritrea Gazelle, my personal focus was of course on the Nubian Ibex and Aoudad. After my successful hunt for the Nubian ibex in Sudan, I managed to hunt a Barbary sheep after three safaris in the Nubian desert. During the first two unsuccessful hunting trips, but also during the third successful hunt, I was able to convince myself that the game density in Sudan is very low and over all the years when there has been no legal and controlled hunting, the Aoudad has been poached very heavily and hardly more to be found in Sudan. I was more as pleased to hear from my partner and friend Renauld in spring 2021, where he informed me that he had finally managed to organize the hunt for Aoudad in Morocco for the first time. For more than 10 years, we have been working intensively on this project, and now we have finally managed to hunt the Barbary sheep in its natural habitat, the Atlas Mountains. Ten permits for one hunting season. Only selected male that are at least 7 years old may be hunted. Renauld achieved another milestone with the import license for its own hunting rifle. Although I only forwarded this message to a few of my closest customers and friends of the possibility of hunting Barbary sheep in Morocco, especially among mountain hunters, spread very quickly and it wasn’t long before all 10 licenses were quickly sold out.

The hunting season in Morocco is set from mid-September to the end of March and the first hunter was already planning to come at the end of September. Unfortunately it was still too hot and the sheep were very high in the mountains. At this point it should be mentioned that the Atlas Mountains stretch over an area of about 2,500 kilometers and separate the coasts of the Atlantic and the Mediterranean Sea from the Sahara. The highly rugged mountains have a very contrasting terrain and changeable climate. The highest elevation is the Toubkal at 4,167 meters. The hunting area is located right in these High Atlas mountains and has an area of more than 100,000 hectares. The Tizi n’ Test Pass at 2,100 meters above sea level is the starting point of our hunt.

The mountains are richly forested and offer the game plenty of protection from the changing climatic conditions. Of course, this advantage for the game does not play into our cards and therefore it makes much more sense to wait for cooler weather, especially snow on the mountain tops. The snow drives the sheep further down where they can still find plenty of food. The Barbary sheep feeds on grass and herbs as well as fresh leaves. The first successful hunters finally returned from Morocco in November. Unfortunately, the Covid pandemic did not stop in Morocco either and King Mohammed VI, the regent of Morocco, ordered the borders to be closed and it was no longer possible to enter or leave the country from December 1st to February 7th. Immediately after the borders were opened, we were able to continue our hunting program very successfully. My personal presence was requested for the last two hunting guests. A request that I am very happy to comply with, as they are two very good friends and long-standing customers of mine. For the Conklin award winner Bela Hidvegi, with whom I have had the privilege of accompanying on many hunting trips, is the Aoudad in its natural habitat, the Atlas Mountains of Morocco, a hunting dream that he would like to realize. But also for my good friend Vladislav Reznik, the Aoudad from North Africa is one of the few sheep species that he has not yet hunted. The Aoudad was introduced to Spain in the early 20th century and from there to North and Central America, where it is still bred and hunted to this day. Hunting in its original, natural habitat is therefore of great importance to many mountain hunters.

My journey to Marrakech is very pleasant. I chose the Spanish Iberia as the airline. No problem with the gun carrying and the flight goes via Madrid to Marrakech. Rached is already waiting for me at Marrakech airport and helps me with the formalities and registering the gun with the airport police. After 40 minutes I’m already at my friend Renauld, who has his private property in Morocco, a little further out and to the south. Only 500 meters away is a comfortable hotel where our guests are accommodated upon their arrival. Right next to a reservoir with fantastic views of the Atlas Mountains. From his terrace, with this incredible view, we discuss the course of the next few days. There have been some shifts in the flight connections of our guests. Vladislav, who originally wanted to fly in with Turkish Airline, had to rebook and take the flight with Qatar Airways. Istanbul was temporarily closed due to heavy snowfall. Bela chose Air France for his flight, which flew in a day earlier. The plan was quickly made. Vladislav Reznik will try his luck hunting the Barbary wild boar for the first two days and will hunt near the orange plantations around Casablanca and Bela will be the first to hunt the Aoudad. The next morning we found out how changeable the weather is. Not much is left of the pleasantly warm 20 degrees from the day before. Rain and a cool 4 degrees await us in the morning. Ahead is a 2 ½ hour drive to the Tizi N Test Pass. According to the weather report, we should expect 10 to 15 centimeters of fresh snow there

Market

ridges for sheep. Shortly before 7 p.m. we break off and return to the pass. Except for a few female and a young ram, nothing was to be found. The restaurant also has a small, brick guest house where we will spend the night. After a good dinner and some good anecdotes from Bela and Renauld, we treat ourselves to a few hours of sleep before we continue the next morning. During the night it continued to snow and gave us another 15 centimeters of fresh snow. Dense fog, which also envelops the mountains below, does not allow a hunt and we just have to wait. Like yesterday, the fog only clears again in the afternoon and we try our luck again. In the last few days before the snowfall, forest workers have seen some Aoudad at work. Although the ascent to this position is not easy, Bela still wants to try. The first hundred meters of altitude can be managed quickly with the help of donkeys and mules, but after that the ascent becomes too dangerous with the help of our four-legged friends and we continue on foot. It is already 5 p.m. when we reach the place where the forest workers saw the sheep before the snowfall.

As with every mountain hunt, we start to search the terrain with binoculars and spotting scopes. As we prepare for our descent, barbary sheep suddenly appear out of nowhere. First there are two, a short time later there are already four and a few minutes later we have a group of twelve sheep in front of us. There is a ravine and a distance of 400 meters between us and the Barbary sheep on the opposite slope. Two ram stand out from the rest. The difference in size between the mane and the horns of these two and those of the rest of the group can be clearly seen. Unfortunately, we only have a short time to enjoy the sight of the sheep. Firing a shot is out of the question. It’s already too late and we have to hurry to reach the vehicle before sunset. The sight of the sheep and the fact that the weather forecast promises better weather for tomorrow makes us hope for the best tomorrow.

We go early to our bed room because tomorrow after breakfast we’ll be on our way to return to the same place of today. The weather in the morning is also much better. The clouds are still hanging low, but it is snowing only a little and the snow-free breaks are getting longer. Already at 10 a.m. we are at the place where we saw the sheep yesterday and today everything goes much faster. It is less than half an hour before the same group of yesterdays emerge again from the shelter of the oaks and cedars. For our part, we use this tree cover to stalk closer to the sheep. At 250 meters the time has come. Bela has a very good view of the strongest ram in the group and a good rifle rest. He uses my Steyr Tactical in caliber 300 WinMag and a Steiner scope with a ballistic turret.

The distance of 250 meters is set quickly and Bela unlocks the gun. Seconds later the shot breaks and the Aoudad breaks fatally hit in the shot. We wait a few more minutes and then make our way to the dead  ram. Now we can admire the harvest ram in detail. Even the renewed snowfall is ignored and Bela and the entire team are overjoyed. After a few memory photos, we make our way back. The snowfall has become heavier again and the well-being and health of our hunting guest has top priority. In the late afternoon we are back at our guest house. Vladislav and his companion Evgeny are already waiting there. Together with our friend Alexander, who guided both of them to the Barbary wild boar, all the experiences of the last few days are exchanged over dinner and it is already after midnight when we finally fall into our beds. Tired but satisfied.

The next day Alexander takes over our successful Aoudad hunter Bela and drives him back to Marrakech where Bela is now trying his luck on a wild boar. I’ll stay with Renauld and accompany Vladislav on his hunt for his Barbary Sheep. The weather has changed and the sky is almost cloudless. The Atlas Mountains show their different face and we look forward to the upcoming hunting day. Three people from Renauld’s have been out since the early hours of the morning and are scouting the area where we want to hunt today. While we were still having our breakfast, we received the message from the scouting team. A group of seven Aoudad was sighted. We get ready immediately and a few minutes later we are already in the car and on our way to the agreed meeting point. Our scouts are giving Renauld and myself a brief overview of the situation. After only 30 minutes of walking along a snow-covered forest path, we reach a small platform from where we can already see the sheep.

They are on the opposite slope, 600 meters away from us and about 150 meters above us. Together we think about how we can do the best stalk. Cover is plentiful, but the sometimes deep snowpack has its pitfalls. Our stalk begins when we first try to compensate for the difference in altitude. We need a little more than an hour until we are on the same level as the sheep, who don’t move much and let themselves be warmed up by the sun. After another 30 meters of altitude, we now continue our stalk horizontally. Again and again we stop and watch the sheep, which are now slightly below us. Some just remain and others pluck the leaves of the surrounding bushes. We manage to stalk them unnoticed up to a distance of 150 meters. From our location we have a very good overview of the whole group of Barbary sheep. It doesn’t take long for us to select the best ram. He stands alone on a rocky outcrop. It almost looks like he’s overseeing his little kingdom from his throne. Vladislav already has his sights set on him but for now he only shows himself from the front and Vladislav is waiting for his broadside. Moving does not appear to be one of his  forte and will test our patience. Finally the long-awaited turn to the right. Now Vladislav has the desired position of the Barbary sheep and he won’t let this chance go away and the shoot break. The ram immediately jumps a few meters further down the valley where he remains lying in the snow, fatally wounded. It’s almost devoutly quiet here.

No one says a word and all eyes are on the ram that has been harvest . It’s hard to describe the emotion of that moment, but the hunter’s wet eyes speak volumes. The first to break this silence is Isbar, the fox terrier from Renauld that always accompanies us. With his barking, he just wants to let us know: Let me finally go to the ram I’ve killed! Of course, not only he but also the shooter now wants to pay his last respects to the Aoudad. The rest is routine as always. A few trophy photos and then the descent and care of the ram that was killed.

Hunting for Aoudad in the High Atlas Mountains of Morocco is something very special. A very demanding mountain hunt in a wonderful landscape. With many new impressions, memories and emotions along with fantastic trophies in our luggage, we start our journey home and were able to convince ourselves again that ethical and controlled hunting is a major part for conservation of our wildlife.

It was 1994 and I was a very eager and energetic young professional hunter, under the employ of a south African-based outfitter.

We were always eager to get “out” and into wilder areas in adjoining countries, places that seemed “unknown” and exotic to us.

When the late Phillip Nel, asked me to do some freelance hunts for him in Mozambique, it seemed too good to be true. Mozambique at that time was very exotic and unknown to me; Phillip managed to lease Coutada 10 from the Mozambique government, and was just establishing a hunting concession after the long civil war.

Phil Nel and Anton Marais were some of the pioneers in getting the Marameu region started up again, after the long and devastating civil war.

Phillip Nel had a base farm in South Africa, in the Soutpansberg, and that was where we met up to fly in their private plane to the area in Mozambique. Things were just different then, there were no commercial flights in and out of Beira. Officials were quite stand-offish and looked at us with suspicion and disdain, and when you presented a rifle for Import, you were a terrorist.

I went to camp a few days before our hunters arrived; both were South African nationals, and really nice guys. I have lost contact with them and could not obtain their permission, so we decided to cover their faces in the photos attached, in order to respect their privacy.

I tried to familiarize myself with the area by asking my employer some questions about what to expect, but all I really got was, “We do not know the area very well ourselves, and also do not know what to expect.”

The main quarry was buffalo, but we could basically take anything that we found, if we found anything.

En route to the Marameu, we had to land at a place called Mahimba, just north of the Zambezi River, where I met a veteran hunter, Brian Smith.

Brian greeted us at the airstrip, extremely sunburnt, and wearing flipflop shoes. He never stopped complaining about the long grass… Later on I got to know Brian a lot better and reminisced about that first meeting, which he never remembered.

I arrived in camp in a very wild place; even the odd local villager we encountered seemed to not know much about European people.

The first few days I spent driving around with one of Phil’s local PHs getting to know the lie of the land and looking for buffalo with his client. It was evident that this was wild country and that hunting was real. Game was a bit scarce, but I was amazed by all the bushpig we saw almost daily, and in daytime, something I was not accustomed to.

There were a few sable, some reedbuck, waterbuck and of course buffalo deep inside the swamp, that required long stalks on hands and knees. In one of the buffalo photos you’ll notice the torn part on our client’s jeans – those pants were almost new when he started.

Lots of mosquitoes and hot sun was also just the order of the day.

After a few days of me scouting, my two hunters arrived, and I had my own Land Cruiser to go with and free range.

We basically just picked a direction, eastwards, towards the swamp and looked for the Egrets, “white birds that accompany large herds of animals,” I was told. Not much has changed even today, 29-odd years later.

The safari went extremely well. We got two good buffalo bulls early in the hunt and then just explored and hunted for plain game.

On one of the days, I was driving between the flood plain and forest, where it makes lots of smaller open areas when we spotted a lion running across our path and into some thickets.

Camp 1994

Camp 2023

We walked up to the magnificent cat and admired him. After a few seconds I realized he was still breathing and the breaths were becoming stronger, so the client shot him again in the chest which sealed the deal. On later inspection we found that his first shot went a bit high and the angle only stunned the lion. Things could have turned out very differently.

Up until then we had done much better than expected, I think a bit to the dismay of the resident PH. We were standing around our lion back at the skinning shed when the other party arrived back from their hunt. They spotted us and drove over to us.

The look on the resident PH’s face was something to behold. He just looked at me and said

“A f–king Lion.” That was it, no congratulations, no well done, no wtf.

That evening around the campfire was different, there were big congratulations. At the time there was an estimated 20 to 30 lions only.

Now we are in 2023 and I just completed another hunt in the Marameu, Coutada 11, managed by Zambezi Delta Safaris, Mark Haldane, and what a transformation.

Area 11 is by far my favorite area to hunt for the tiny guys. Red duiker, suni and blue duiker are so numerous that they are like a rat infestation. Not to mention the buffalo, reedbuck, hartebeest, sable – the list just goes on.

I recently read a article by Craig Boddington where he mentions the number of 3000 buffalo after the war, to the now 30 000. This all happened in a mere 25-odd years.

Hunting for plains game is almost like going to Walmart – they are numerous and bigger than elsewhere.

Seeing an area almost decimated return to what it is today, is such a nice success story, and the fact that it was done entirely through hunting and hunters makes it so much more sweet.

Hunting buffalo in Area 11 is pleasant, you can choose. Go into the swamp for a morning, or hunt for one on dry land in the forest, they are there.

Going into the swamp means getting into Zambezi Delta’s swamp vehicles, driving, floating or whatever you want to call it, deep into the formerly impenetrable regions, and look for the birds.

Once located, you load up and the crawl is on. Exhilarating but still fresh when you start.

Once you connect with a good bull, and you will, the swamp vehicle can get to you and load the whole carcass. No meat goes to waste, and you will return to camp mostly long before dark, to enjoy an ice-cold beer.

Obviously, you have your harder days, but the numbers of game you will encounter en route in as well as out make all the aches and pains go away.

Even the lion numbers now have increased, and it is not unusual to encounter them more often. Their numbers are approaching 100 and rising fast.  Cheetahs and elephant are all making a comeback.

I am in the very fortunate position to have seen the area then, and also now, something I cherish and love to share with other avid outdoorsmen.

Waterbuck 2023