Hunter's Path XVI

Jagdzeit
Hunter’s Path

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EDITORIAL
Sustenance
My vacuum sealer was running hot, and I had to give it a
break to cool down. On the counter next to me was a pile of
fine venison cuts from what were once two elk hindquarters
and two backstraps. This was the culmination of many hours of
good work that had started with quartering and skinning, and
proceeded through the process of ever finer cuts until I was left
with packageable portions. Though sometimes tedious, I love
the process of turning game animals into meat. Processing your
own game is a critical element in the art of hunting, and a skill
anyone who calls themselves a hunter should have. Meat is the
ultimate goal and reward of the hunt.
Although Hunter‘s Path focuses primarily on the adventure
and excitement of good hunting around the globe, the original
necessity and meaning of hunting cannot be forgotten. The
ability to hunt, kill, process, and cook meat is what made us
human. The primal basics of living remain constant, despite
cultural attempts to veil reality. The veneer of culture is thin,
and our animal reality is never far below the surface. As hunters
we are as aware as anyone of the circle of life that dictates killing
other creatures for our own survival, and for the survival of
our families. Utilizing meat gives legitimacy to hunting like
nothing else can. Fortunately, humans are also toolmakers,
which means we are able to embrace technological advances
while remaining true to our natural selves. The primal and
modern are not mutually exclusive. It is the balance that counts.
Mentioning the processes of butchering and cooking to a nonhunter
instantly changes the tone of any ‘conversation’ about
hunting. Just as most non-hunters instantly recognize disingenuous
language, most also recognize the basic premise of the
importance of protein sustenance. The catch phrases that involve
words such as harvest, management, quotas, crop damage, etc.,
ring hollow to most ears. Truth be told, the real reason people
hunt is a nod to our primitive selves, and the joy involved in the
natural instinct that is hunting, which includes cutting meat for
the fire.
Bloody hands provide a connection to nature that is fundamental
to our nature as humans, and as real as life gets. So to you
I wish many hours of happy butchering. May your hunting
this year have provided you with the opportunity to make meat,
and much sustenance for both you and your family in the
coming months.
Good Hunting,
Chris Eberhart
Editor

CONTENT
10
SWEDEN
Pursuing Eurasian brown
bear in Northern Sweden
is an exciting adventure, no
matter the outcome.
Photo: Tweed Media
70 MEXICO
South of the border means
many things. For some it
means the finest Coues
deer hunting in the world.
Photo: Larry L. Weishuhn
108
BRITISH COLUMBIA
Father and son hunts are
always something special.
Climbing high for mountain
goats is an unforgettable
experience for this father
and son team.
Photo: Chris Bergmann
2 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

FEATURES
SWEDEN – Brown Bear | Simon K. Barr 10
SURVIVE AFRICA XIII – Survival Cooking | Douw Kruger 26
BRITISH COLUMBIA – Moose | Nick Trehearne 32
NAMIBIA – Leopard | Bernd Kamphuis 42
M a n i e w s k i
TAXIDERMY
From booking
to finished mount:
Everything is in our hands!
Russia - Kirghizia - Poland -
Bulgaria - Spain - Latvia -
Namibia - South Africa
NEW ZEALAND – Chamois | Ben Salleras 54
KENYA – Hunting 1966 to 1977 | Wolfgang Schenk 64
MEXICO – Coues Deer | Larry L. Weishuhn 70
TANZANIA – Crocodile | Hans Georg Schabel 78
MAURITIUS – Rusa Deer | Selena Barr 96
BRITISH COLUMBIA – Mountain Goat | Chris Bergmann 108
MOZAMBIQUE/SOUTH AFRICA – Zebra | Dalton Valette 116
P S
HUNTING TRIPS
COLUMNS
Editorial1
Hunting News From Around the World 4
We deliver what the others
only promise!
Our hunts take place only
in select hunting areas, and are all
personally tested for quality.
Illustration – Lakomy 8
Conservation – Ron Thomson 22
Portrait of an Artist – Hans-Peter Moser 88
Maniewski Taxidermy
& PS Hunting Trips
Marketplace124
Preview & Masthead 128
Alte Burgwedeler Str. 11
30938 Burgwedel, Germany
Phone: +49 (0)5135/774 or -799
praeparation@t-online.de
info@ps-jagdreisen.com
www.ps-jagdreisen.com
3

HUNTING NEWS
FROM AROUND THE WORLD
AFRICA
Elephant Census
THE RESULTS OF THE FIRST AFRICAN-WIDE
elephant survey are now available. Between 2007
and 2014, the number of savannah elephant decreased
by one third. The population in 2014 was
estimated to be 350,000 to 400,000 animals. Additionally,
elephant numbers in the rainforests of
Central Africa have fallen even more drastically.
Funded primarily by a grant of seven million US dollars
from Microsoft founder Paul Allen, the counts
from the air involved ninety scientists working in
eighteen countries. With eighty-one aircraft and the
participation of many wildlife protection agencies
and relief organizations, samples were determined
and then extrapolated.
According to the responsible scientists, the causes
of the population decreases are poaching and the
loss of natural habitats for the pachyderms. Human
population growth and the continual spread
of agriculture are causing suitable habitats to shrink.
Above all, increasing cattle grazing, mostly by migrant
herds, makes conservation efforts difficult.
The scientists counted more than three million cattle
in elephant habitat. They also spotted hundreds
of poacher camps from the air. Actual elephant
poaching is usually done by young men from the
local villages. Afterwards, smuggler rings run by organized
crime transport the ivory to Asia, especially
to China and Vietnam.
rdb
How many elephant are there?
Photo: iStockphoto
TROPHY HUNTING
Banning Trophy Hunting Will
Exacerbate Biodiversity Loss
INTERNATIONAL PRESSURE TO ban trophy
hunting is increasing. However, three scientists from
Finnish, British and Australian universities argue in
an article in Trends in Ecology and Evolution (Vol. 31,
Issue 2, December 30, 2015), that hunting can be an
important conservation tool, and that it can benefit
biodiversity conservation and local people. “The
hunting industry is characterized by many problems
and shortcomings, in particular in Africa,” state
Di Minin, Leader-Williams and Bradshaw, the three
authors. “Nevertheless trophy hunting can help address
the ongoing loss of species.” Therefore, blanket
hunting bans would exacerbate biodiversity loss.
The authors see three main reasons for this. First,
financial resources for conservation are limited in
developing countries. Hence, wildlife use is necessary
to generate enough funding to support
meaningful conservation success over large areas.
Sustainable hunting can create important incentives
for biodiversity conservation in areas where photographic
tourism is not possible or not economically
viable. If revenue cannot be generated from trophy
hunting, natural habitats will be transformed to
other forms of land use that provide higher return
on investments, but that have negative impacts on
biodiversity.
Second, trophy hunting can have a smaller footprint
than other tourism in terms of carbon emissions, infrastructure
development, and personnel, and can
generate more revenue from a lower volume of tourist
hunters. Compared with photographic tourism,
the trophy-hunting industry relies on fewer tourist
hunters, because the income generated per hunter
is higher. Additionally, hunters are interested in maintaining
good quality habitat for the simple reason that
the caliber of the animals harvested therein is also high.
Finally, hunters are prepared to hunt in areas lacking
attractive scenery, and that require less infrastructure,
therefore minimizing habitat degradation.
4 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

Third, management for hunting places emphasis on
maintaining large wildlife populations for offtake, as
opposed to other tourism, where the presence of
only a few individual animals is sufficient to maximize
profits. Hunting tourism thus conserves wild
landscapes and biodiversity.
Nevertheless, the authors are of the opinion that
the contributions that trophy hunting make to conservation
can be enhanced, and propose respective
improvements in order to increase biodiversity
benefits, stakeholder returns and animal welfare.
rdb
SOUTH AFRICA
Canned Shooting of Lion
Continues Despite Criticism
SIXTY-FIVE PERCENT OF ALL LION in South
Africa are captive-bred and live in enclosures and
breeding facilities. Their number has steadily increased
from about 2,500 animals in 2005 to more
than 6,000 in 2013. Half of these live on seventy
lion farms in the Free State, and another 2,200 live
on sixty-four farms in the North West Province.
In 2015, the number of shooting facilities was estimated
at around twenty. The breeding and the
killing do not always happen at the same place, as
for example in the Free State this is not allowed.
The economic use of lion behind fences is manifold.
Tourists visit the ‘cub-petting’ farms, and young
volunteers from around the world come for paid
holidays where they ‘care for’ young lion. Many
are of the opinion that they are supporting animal
welfare. Later, a great number of maned lion and
females are killed by visiting tourists. In 2011 about
600 lion skeletons were exported, mainly to the
Far East, where they feed the lion bone trade and
end up in traditional Asian medicine.
The lion industry is big business and ‘canned shooting’
earns the operators high profits. The relationship
between the Professional Hunters’ Association
of South Africa (PHASA) and the lion industry has
therefore been complex and undergone many a
twist. At its last annual general meeting in November
2015, the majority of PHASA members voted
to change the existing policy and take a stand against
the practice. Individual members like the PH-legend
Ronnie Rowland had actively fought for this for a long
time. The decision reads: PHASA distances itself
from all captive-bred lion breeding and hunting until
such time as the South African Predator Association
can convince PHASA and the International Union
for Conservation of Nature that captive-bred lion
hunting is beneficial to lion conservation.
The World Conservation Congress of the IUCN
(International Union for Conservation of Nature
and Natural Resources) held in September 2016
in Hawaii, however, adopted a resolution which
demands an end to the killing of captive bred lion
in enclosures. The IUCN does not attach any conservation
value to it. The South African government
was asked to prohibit the practice by law. The resolution
simultaneously underscores the conservation
value of sustainable, legal, and ethical hunting.
It is noteworthy that the IUCN does not speak
about this in the context of hunting anymore.
During the review process for the resolution, the
term ‘canned hunting’ was officially replaced in the
text by ‘canned shooting’. The resolution also notes
that the vast majority of hunters view this practice
as unethical.
rdb
TAJIKISTAN - GERMANY
German CIC Delegation
Donates Optics
THE GERMAN DELEGATION of the International
Council for Game and Wildlife Conservation
(CIC) has called on its members to donate spotting
scopes and binoculars for community-based conservancies
in Tajikistan. The optics are especially
needed for game surveys and anti-poaching efforts.
A few years ago, the villages decided to discontinue
unsustainable, illegal, meat-hunting for ibex, Marco
Polo sheep, and markhor. In return, they receive a
few hunting licenses, which they can sell to foreign
While traveling through the Pamirs, CIC member Dr. Rolf D. Baldus
handed over spotting scopes and binoculars to the traditional hunters
of Alichur village.
Photo: Rolf D. Baldus
5

HUNTING NEWS FROM AROUND THE WORLD
hunters in order to earn revenue. As a result, the
ungulate populations have increased considerably,
and so have the numbers of snow leopards, wolves,
and bears. Therefore the conservancies received
the prestigious Markhor Prize from the CIC for
their contribution to the conservation of biodiversity
through sustainable use.
While traveling through the Pamirs , CIC member
Dr. Rolf D. Baldus handed over the first batch of
spotting scopes and binoculars to the traditional
hunters of Alichur village. The head of the German
CIC delegation, Wilhelm von Trott zu Solz, thanks
Optolyth-Sport Optics and all other donors. More
information: http://www.wildlife-tajikistan.org/
rdb
GERMANY – SOUTH AFRICA
World’s Largest Ivory
Database
SIGNATORIES TO CITES WILL SOON be able
to freely access the world’s largest ivory database,
which has been compiled using state-of-the-art forensic
techniques developed by Germany. German
Minister for the Environment Barbara Hendricks
symbolically handed over the IvoryID database to
CITES Secretary-General John E. Scanlon at CITES
CoP17 in Johannesburg in September 2016.
Scanlon said: “The use of modern forensics is a
game-changer in the fight against the illegal wildlife
trade. We are deeply grateful to Germany for
developing a forensic technique that can determine
the age and origin of ivory. Criminals illegally
trading in ivory can no longer hide behind false
claims of where and when they got their ivory.”
The database, which can be accessed through a
website, contains more than seven hundred reference
samples from thirty African countries, using
data obtained from elephant ivory with proven origin,
and provided by countries of origin, museums,
hunters, and others.
Hendricks said: “I am pleased to add today this
forensic element to the existing toolkit of CITES in
the fight against ivory trafficking, and I would like to
invite everyone involved in elephant conservation
to use it effectively. I also have to express my sincere
thanks towards the African nations, who made this
project possible by providing qualified samples.”
Germany has developed a forensic technique based
on an analysis of isotopes that can determine the
age and origin of ivory. This provides critical information
about poaching hotspots and trade routes
used by traffickers. The composition of specific isotopes
used to determine origin differs significantly
between geographical regions and ecosystems
across Africa. This chemical fingerprint is imbedded
in the ivory during the growth of the elephant.
Proof of age can provide crucial evidence in court
cases to determine if material has been recently
poached or is antique.
The IvoryID-website, which will be available at
www.ivoryid.org also contains information about
certified laboratories in the world that are able to
apply these methods.
ce
KENYA
Drastic Decline in
Wildlife Numbers
KENYA BANNED ALL HUNTING nearly forty
years ago. The country is hailed for this by the
worldwide animal welfare movement. However,
Kenya is one of the best examples in Africa of a
country whose wildlife population is declining. This
is confirmed by recent research that was published
by Joseph O. Ogute et al. in PLOS ONE.
The team of authors for this research used systematic
aerial monitoring data collected in rangelands
that collectively cover 88% of Kenya’s land surface.
The results show that wildlife numbers declined
on average by 68% between 1977 and 2016. The
magnitude of decline varied among species, but was
most extreme (-72% - -88%), and now severely
threatens the viability and future of warthog, lesser
kudu, Thomson’s gazelle, eland, oryx, topi, hartebeest,
impala, Grevy’s zebra and waterbuck. The
declines were widespread and occurred in most of
the twenty-one rangeland counties.
Similar to wildlife, cattle numbers decreased
(-25.2%), but numbers of sheep and goats (76.3%),
camels (13.1%) and donkeys (6.7%) evidently increased
in the same period. As a result, livestock
biomass was 8.1 times greater than that of wildlife
in 2011–2013 compared to 3.5 times in 1977–1980.
The declines raise grave concerns about the future
of wildlife, and the effectiveness of the wildlife conservation
policies, strategies, and practices in Kenya.
Causes of the declines include exponential human
population growth, increasing livestock numbers,
declining rainfall, and a striking rise in temperatures,
but the fundamental cause seems to be policy, and
institutional and market failures.
The authors suggest policy, institutional, and
management interventions that would be likely
to succeed in reducing the declines and restoring
rangeland health. Most notably they recommend
strengthening and investing in community and private
wildlife conservancies.
rdb
Kenyan wildlife numbers have plummeted since its hunting ban.
Photo: iStockphoto.com
6 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

Snow leopard face pressure from poaching
across their range. Photo: iStockphoto.com
CENTRAL ASIA
Hundreds of Snow Leopard Poached Each Year
WITH POSSIBLY AS FEW AS 4,000 snow leopard
surviving in the wild, a new report from TRAF-
FIC has found that hundreds of the endangered
big cats are being killed illegally each year across
their range in Asia’s high mountains. The report
“An Ounce of Prevention: Snow Leopard Crime
Revisited” estimates that between 221-450 snow
leopard have been poached annually since 2008
– a minimum of four per week. But this number
could be substantially higher since many killings in
remote areas go undetected.
Using a combination of methods, including seizure
records, market surveys and expert interviews
to provide the first quantitative estimates of the
scale of snow leopard poaching and trafficking
since 2003, the report found that the majority of
snow leopard are killed in retaliation for attacks
on livestock (55 %) or by non-targeted methods,
such as snares (18 %).
Only twenty-one percent of snow leopard were
poached specifically for the illegal trade in their
pelts and products. However, the report found
that over half the retaliatory and non-targeted
poaching incidents result in opportunistic attempts
to sell, contributing to the estimated 108-219 snow
leopard that are illegally traded each year.
The report calls on governments to mitigate human-wildlife
conflict by preventing snow leopard
from killing livestock, offsetting the costs of livestock
losses, and expanding community-based
conservation programs. It also recommends
strengthening both national and trans-boundary
law enforcement, especially as less than a quarter of
known cases of snow leopard poaching were investigated
and just fourteen percent were prosecuted.
According to the report, over ninety percent of
the reported snow leopard poaching occurred in
five range countries: China, Mongolia, Pakistan,
India and Tajikistan. Nepal was also flagged for having
relatively high poaching levels, considering its
relatively small population of snow leopard. China
and Russia were most frequently identified as destinations
for animals poached in other countries.
Afghanistan has also been a major illegal market
for snow leopard furs over the past decade. rdb
7

ILLUSTRATION – HANS LAKOMY
Wellness Freak!
8 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

9

Sweden: European Brown Bear
Bear
Hunting in
Sweden
Text: Simon k. Barr · Photos: Tweed Media, Shutterstock

12 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

Wild Eurasian brown bear are a standard occupational hazard if you’re an
indigenous Sámi reindeer herder in Sweden. “This is not Disney, bear are dangerous,”
explained fifth-generation herder Mattias Sparrock via an interpreter
as he welcomed us to the remote, unfenced Jämtland hunting camp, adding: “If
they’re hungry they will kill you and bury you. Then, when they want to eat
you they will dig you up.”
Top: Jämtland is only accessible via a
45-minute helicopter transfer.
Bottom: The pilot explains to Simon
where he would be landing.
Thankfully, bear attacks on humans are
relatively rare in Sweden. There have
been just two fatalities in the past forty
years. Most recently, in 2014, an eightyyear-old
man was attacked by a protective
sow nursing three cubs while he was fishing
by a lake in Homnabo. Despite some serious
bite wounds, he lived to tell the tale. A
protected species, bear can only be hunted
with a license. Around 230 permits are
granted each year to help safeguard livestock
and to keep the population healthy.
Hunting apex predators is often controversial
and emotive, so my wife Selena and
I were especially interested to learn more
about the management of this iconic species
in one of its native home ranges.
Typically, there are two ways of hunting
a free-ranging, wild bruin: driven with dogs
or stalking on foot. We opted for the latter.
Organised by Lars Andersson and Markus
Johansson of the renowned Swedish outfitter
Exclusive Adventure, the week-long
expedition required intense physical training
beforehand, as we’d be hiking for twelve
hours each day. The shooting distance
could be anything out to three hundred
metres, so adequate range time was also
a prerequisite. This hunt was the ultimate
test of endurance, fitness and field craft. It
doesn’t get much more ‘fair chase’ than that.
Camp was a simple wooden cabin
with communal bunk beds. There was no
running water, electricity or phone signal.
Lars reassured me however that the thin
walls would prevent us from being eaten in
the night. Accessed via a spectacular forty-five-minute
helicopter flight, the camp
felt incredibly isolated from civilization.
Being completely cut-off from the twenty-first
century felt pleasingly cathartic. In
a world where we are increasingly dictated
to by emails, mobile phones and laptops, it
was great to reignite my primeval senses,
live simply and hunt intensively from dawn
until dusk. This kind of backcountry hunting
should be available on prescription.
Jämtland is in the heart of the Scandinavian
Peninsula and is one of Sweden’s
twenty-five counties. It has a population
of just 120,000 people and approximately
a thousand brown bear. The introduction
of bounties in 1647, and the subsequent
intensive hunting, reduced the bear population
from 4,000-5,000 in the 1850s to a
woeful 130 animals in 1927. They then received
official protection in 1927. According
to the International Union for Conservation
of Nature’s Red List of Threatened
Species, the brown bear is now in the clear.
Our first evening was spent acclimatizing
to the modest surroundings of the
cabin, crouched around the log burner by
candlelight, chewing reindeer biltong and
drinking cans of strong Fagerhult lager.
According to Mattias, in 2007 an emaciated
bear killed a man and his dog in a village
just five kilometres from the hut. With
no access to the internet to verify his story,
it sent a chill down my spine. “If the bear
population is not kept in check and their
numbers exceed the natural carrying capacity
of the land, they then start to encroach
on villages which leads to conflict with humans,”
he explained. Hunting a dangerous
carnivore requires a completely different
mindset. I’m used to hunting prey species
like deer, sheep, goats and pheasants. Being
part of my quarry’s food chain took some
getting used to. “Watch your back, bruins
don’t have great vision but they do have
a keen sense of smell!” chortled Markus,
playfully pointing at my hiking boots and
pinching his nose.
When hunting bear it is an extremely
good idea to have a native tribesman as
13

14 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

Top left: Simon hunting in the moonscape
of the Jämtland wilderness.
Top right: Markus and Selena glass the
remote wilderness in search of bear.
Bottom: The hunters’ home throughout
the hunt.
15

16 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

Top left: Enjoying lunch around
the campfire after a dawn start.
Bottom left: The spectacular
landscape of Jämtland made the
long days of walking worth it.
Top: Mattias’ young tracking
dog, Scott.
your guide. The Sámi know the Swedish
wilderness better than anyone, as they traverse
the expansive landscape herding their
reindeer atop motorbikes. So how many
reindeer does Mattias own? “I would never
disclose a figure – that’s like asking me
how much money I have in the bank!” he
quipped before cramming more snus onto
his gums. Hunting is an integral part of his
life. Not only does he make money by guiding
hunters, but hunting also keeps predator
numbers in check. Mattias watches his herd
of reindeer around the clock, but still loses
around half of the calves to predators such as
wolves, lynx, eagles, and of course bear. “Last
year was the worst on record, I lost seventy
percent of my calves,” shrugged the fatherof-five,
adding: “Everything else in life
comes second to my reindeer.” Lars added:
“Hunting is very much part of the culture in
Sweden. Local hunters would think nothing
of strapping a dead moose to the top of their
pick-up and driving through town.”
The next morning we were out the door
at dawn. The sense of anticipation and excitement
was audible, palpable and intense.
The air was bitingly cold so we wrapped
up in layers and loaded up with a heavy
backpack containing rifle and ammo as well
as water and rations for the day. The plan?
To spot and stalk while scouting for sign.
Thankfully bear are a hulking great mass –
with boars weighing up to three hundred
kilograms – so they are relatively easy to
spy even from hundreds of metres away.
We were primarily targeting an old boar, so
anything with cubs was off-limits. So how
do you judge a shooter? “Big boars have a
lot of space between their ears,” explained
Markus. “If there’s a crease down the middle
of his forehead, stop judging and shoot.”
Lars explained that a mature, big boar will
not behave as cautiously as other species –
like fox for instance – so I should have time
to take a well-placed shot. “Believe me, you
don’t want to track a wounded bear in thick
cover. Aim midway up the front shoulder,
which will put the bear down fast. Of course,
if he appears out of nowhere, you may have
to shoot in self-defence.”
At this time of year, autumn, the bears
are fattening up on the raspberries, crowberries,
cloudberries and blueberries which
carpet the forest floor. They enter a stage
called hyperphagia in which they gorge
themselves in advance of hibernation,
17

There are approximately 1,000
brown bear in Jämtland.
often feeding all day long, putting on two
or three pounds a day. As well as looking
for tracks, tree damage and traces of fur,
we’d be scouting for scat, which “looks like
blueberry jam poured onto the ground” according
to the guides.
The outside temperature soon warmed
up and the five of us were down to just base
layers, having hiked for four hours already.
It was becoming increasingly apparent just
how tricky it is to track and locate a bear.
They are solitary animals with enormous
home ranges. At this juncture, Mattias and
his tracking dog – an unpredictable young
Jämthund named Scott – decided to break
away from the group and hunt in another
area so that we could cover more ground.
“Mattias has lived here his whole life and
knows this country like the back of his
hand,” revealed Lars before pulling back
his own Jämthund, named Gorm, from
snarling at cowering Scott. Wolf-like in
appearance, the Jämthund has a strong prey
drive but can be dominant with other dogs.
Fitted with a state-of-the-art GPS collar,
Mattias let Scott loose so that he could
hunt unimpeded. If the dog found a bear,
it would keep it at bay until we could get
into position with a rifle. When hunting
such a vast area, good teamwork is essential.
The landscape was indescribably beautiful
and diverse. We encountered everything
from snow-capped mountains, forests
and lakes – all under cloudless, azure
skies. Every half hour, we had to stop to
take in the far-reaching, unspoiled views.
It was like nothing we’d seen before. Selena
and I live in Scotland, so I guess Jämtland
is Sweden’s equivalent to the Highlands.
Littered with enormous lichen-covered
boulders left over from the last Ice Age,
the terrain was hilly and extensive. The air
felt pure and clean in our lungs and the
light was sharp and crisp. No bear were
spotted on the first or second day, but it
did not matter to us. We bumped plenty
of reindeer as well as a moose cow and
calf. There was so much to take in, and we
all know that hunting is about so much
more than pulling the trigger. Hunting
gets you access to hidden wilderness that
non-hunters only dream about. We were
in heaven and enjoying every millisecond
of our Scandinavian adventure.
At night we dined on creamy reindeer
stew. Every sinew and fibre in our bodies
ached, but it was nothing a good night’s
sleep wouldn’t fix. We were asleep before
our heads touched the pillow, but not for
long as we were up again at first light.
Today we split into three groups; Selena
and I stayed with Lars, while Mattias and
Markus hunted with the dogs to cover as
much ground as possible. We spent long
stretches sitting on hilltops slowing glassing
the landscape before us.
For lunch we stopped in a secluded glen
where Lars made a campfire to cook potatoes
and ham to provide us with much-
18 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

Simon’s wife Selena interviewing
the hunters.
needed sustenance. Over lunch, Lars
explained that bear meat is dense and dark
and best slow-cooked in chocolate. With
just a few months until Christmas, Selena
and I decided to surprise family back home
with a less-than-traditional meal this year
– if our hunt turned out successful. Still no
bear spotted, but we were far from downbeat.
That afternoon we met up with the
other guides to exchange information. Today
marked a significant leap forward in our
search – Mattias had spotted what looked
like a lone bear a few miles away, plus he’d
found two paw impressions in some soft
mud nearby. He reckoned they were just
a couple of hours old. Measuring seven
inches, Markus estimated the bear to weigh
at least two hundred kilograms. If you’re
after a truly heart-pounding hunt, then
enter bear territory. All sorts of thoughts
were now rushing through my mind. An
involuntary physiological reaction of ‘fight
or flight’ hormones coursed through my
body. There is an apex predator in the local
vicinity. Is it watching me right now? Am
I its prey for today? Suddenly the atmosphere
between the guides changed from
jovial to extremely focused.
We continued trekking in the direction
of the paw prints, with the leashed
dogs’ noses pointing the way forward. We
walked quickly to try to catch up with the
bear. Hopefully it was resting under a tree
after feeding all day. Sadly we found no
other sign and the trail eventually went
cold as darkness fell, with the dogs circling
the last spot of scent. We trekked home in
the pitch dark in silence. The disappointment
was immense.
Back at camp, our steaming wet socks
were drying on the rail high above the log
burner, as we huddled around the heat
source to devour our evening meal. With
just five full days of hunting, we were fearful
that we might not be successful. “If we
return home empty-handed, then this trip
just becomes part one of our journey to
harvest a bear,” Selena reminded me before
quoting the well-known adage: “The best
hunter in the world will not do half so well
as the luckiest hunter in the world.”
Sadly that was to be our only encounter.
Hunting is all about highs and lows,
and this particular trip was certainly one to
remember. Investing in a failed hunt only
adds to the satisfaction of success in the
future. My friends will tell you that I am
rarely lost for words, but this bear hunt left
me dumb. I make my living as a wordsmith
but I will have to consult a thesaurus to find
sufficient superlatives to describe just how
unique it is to hunt in Jämtland. •
19

KIT BOX
• Leica Geovid HD-B 10x42
rangefinding binoculars
www.leica-sportoptics.com
• Leica Magnus 1.8x12-50 riflescope
www.leica-sportoptics.com
• Sauer 404 Synchro XP
in .300 Win Mag
www.sauer.de
• Hornady 180-gr Interbond
ammunition
www.hornady.com
• Hornady Universal Gun Sling
www.hornady.com
• Swazi Micro Top base layer
www.swazi.co.nz
• Swazi Hunter Socks
www.swazi.co.nz
Fact BOX
• Latin name: Ursus arctos arctos
• Hunting season:
August 21 – September 15
• Population of Sweden: 9,000,000
• Number of hunters: 290,000
• Bears hibernate for 3-7
months in winter
Contact
Bear hunts start from €1,000 per person
per day. Helicopter transfer costs
around €2,000. For more information,
visit: www.exclusiveadventure.se.
Markus Johansson, Lars Andersson, Simon Barr,
Selena Barr, and Mattias Sparrock at the end of
their hunt.
20 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

STEYR MANNLICHER SM12
The handcocking system for highest demands – easy to handle – accurate – safe – elegant
BY HUNTERS FOR HUNTERS
21

CONSERVATION
© iStockphoto.com

Conservation
The Animal
Rights Movement
by Ron Thomson
(A presentation prepared for the 7th Annual Oppenheimer/De Beers Group Research
Conference, held in Johannesburg, October 18-19, 2016)
On May 16, Dr. Duncan MacFadyen
invited me to “present” at this
conference today, my thoughts
on what he called “the hunting debacle”. He
was particularly concerned, he said, about
how current “green” NGO propaganda was
going to impact on South Africa’s wildlife
industry.
Few people understand the danger and
extent of the web that the animal rightists
have been spinning over Africa for the last
several decades. Fewer still, know what is
REALLY going on.
Six weeks ago I wrote an extensive report
on this subject for the European
Commissioner for the Environment.
It was published, in full, in today’s issue of
the African Outfitter Magazine. During the
CITES convention I gave an extensive talk
on this same topic entitled: “Africa’s Elephants
and CITES”. What I can tell you
about this issue in the next fifteen minutes,
therefore, will only be a skeleton of what
really needs to be said.
The entire “hunting debacle” - as Duncan
calls it - can be laid at the feet of the
international animal rights community, whose
agenda it is to ABOLISH all animal “uses” by
man. This means the animal rightists wish to
terminate all current programmes involving
the sustainable utilisation of living animal resources
(domestic and wild) and to not allow
any new ones to be created.
In the wildlife arena, this includes stopping
hunting, essential culling, vital population
reduction, population manipulation,
harvesting, capture-for-sale, and all trade
in wild animals and their products. The animal
rightists disapprove of wildlife ranchers
“owning and selling” wild animals – and
keeping them contained within game fences.
They disapprove of man eating venison and
biltong – or the sale of these commodities
to the general public. And, this year, it was on
their CITES agenda to close down all hunting;
all wildlife trade - especially the trade in ivory
and rhino horn; and a whole lot more. They
are relentless in their pursuit of success.
In the agricultural sphere they disapprove
of domestic stock farming. That is, the keeping
of cattle, sheep and goats and the production
of meat for man to eat; the keeping of
chickens in batteries and pigs in pigsties; the
slaughter of such animals in abattoirs and the
selling of their meat for human consumption
in butcheries and supermarkets; the keeping
of pet animals - dogs and cats, even budgies
in cages; the use of oxen to plough fields and
donkeys to pull carts; the recreational riding
of horses; and the use of leather and fur.
They disapprove of angling, fish farming and
commercial fisheries; and the consumption
of fish by man.
If they had their way, the animal rightists
would ban the South African tradition of a
braaivleis after the rugby on a Saturday afternoon.
There would be no bacon and eggs for
Sunday breakfast. No slicing a stick of biltong
with a sharp knife to share amongst your
friends. No pet dog lying at your feet in front
of the fire, looking up at you with contented
but doleful eyes, on a cold winter’s night.
For the animal rightists to achieve their
goals, therefore, they will have to violate the
legitimate rights of every human being on
planet earth. Consequently, there is TRULY
no place in any civilised society for the animal
rights doctrine. BUT - strangely - society still
complies with their bombastic demands!
Animal “rights” is NOT the same
thing as animal “welfare”. Animal welfare
organisations (like the SPCA) do not object
to man “using” animals for his own benefit -
but with provisos. They insist that when man
uses a LIVE animal to obtain benefits - like
when he uses an ox to plough a field; or a
donkey to pull a cart – there should be no
cruelty involved in the process. Also, when
he slaughters an ox to obtain meat to eat,
the killing process should be humane. Animal
welfare people, therefore, oversee man’s civilised
standards when it comes to his “use”
of animals. That means we should ALL be
staunch supporters of TRUE animal welfare.
The animal rightists claim that man has
no right to kill an animal – any animal – for
his own benefit. They consider this to be an
abuse of the rights of the animal concerned.
They believe that animals have the same right
to life as human beings. They are not REALLY
concerned, therefore, whether the treatment
that man metes out to animals when he uses
them, or kills them, is humane or cruel. What
they demand is the total prohibition of any
“use”.
The animal rightists have no time at all
for animal welfare organisations. They say
that by “regulating” man’s use of animals,
animal welfare organisations demonstrate
that they condone “animal use”; and that
that tells the public it is “Okay” to do so.
This fact, the animal rightists lament, makes
their drive to abolish all animal uses by man,
almost impossible.
The animal rightists are, in fact, not concerned
with the animals about which they
purport to care so much. Theirs is a confidence
industry - the biggest the world has
ever known - and they use the “emotional
appeal”, contained within carefully selected
“animal use” controversies, to make an awful
lot of money out of the gullible public.
23

CONSERVATION
For many months leading up to CITES
this year, for example, a whole phalanx
of animal rightist NGOs issued
propaganda bulletins worldwide - with fantastic
and unqualified media support - claiming
that the African elephant is facing extinction.
This is totally untrue. Every single one
of Southern Africa’s elephant populations is,
in fact, “excessive”. This means their numbers
have exceeded the carrying capacities
of their habitats; and that, in turn, means
the habitats are being constantly over-utilised
by too many elephants. It also means
- if this state of affairs is allowed to continue
- that our national park sanctuaries will
one day, soon, be converted into deserts.
Our game reserves are certainly suffering
massive biological diversity losses every day.
Now let me quote some Southern African
elephant population counts:
© iStockphoto.com
• Botswana:
1960 – approximately 7 500;
“Today” (2013) over 207 000.
• Hwange National Park:
1960 – 3 500;
“Today” (2016) – over 50 000.
• Gonarezhou National Park:
1972 – 2 500;
“Today” (2014) – over 11 000.
• Kruger National Park:
1994 – 7 000;
“Today” (2016) – between 18 000 and
20 000.
• And every single one of these populations
is still expanding.
These figures tell us that our elephants
are nowhere near facing
extinction. Quite the contrary!
They demonstrate just how rapidly elephant
populations are capable of growing.
When nutritional levels are good, elephant
populations double their numbers every
ten years!
I cannot talk about elephants in other
parts of Africa with the same degree of
confidence. But that doesn’t matter. A fact
that applies to them all is that you can only
manage elephants - population by population.
And WE in Southern Africa can afford
to be concerned ONLY with OUR OWN
elephants; and with the destructive effect
they are having on their habitats in OUR
OWN national parks.
NB: Briefly: There is no such thing as an
“endangered species”. And there is no universal
management treatment that can be applied to
all of Africa’s elephants at the same time.
You can’t help troubled West African elephant
populations, therefore, by over-protecting
Southern Africa’s elephants. It doesn’t
work like that. Remedial management applications
can only be applied to those populations
that are in trouble - treating each case
on its own merits.
NB: By the same token: You cannot give
someone in New York City prophylactic medicine
and expect that it will save the life of someone
who is dying of malaria in India!
So why do the animal rightist NGOs
claim, so fervently, that Africa’s elephants are
facing extinction? Here’s how their system
works:
An NGO makes a false statement (tells a
blatant lie) in his propaganda apparatus. The
NGO states - very plausibly (but without
proof) - that the elephant in Africa is facing
extinction; and claims the “cause” is “uncontrolled
and uncontrollable poaching”. This is
a highly charged and emotional statement –
which is greatly embellished with ever-more
exaggerated reports and heart-wrenching
photographs of dead elephants with their
tusks chopped out. The NGO then institutes
a clever programme to milk the gullible
public of its hard-earned pennies. They state
that if it (the NGO) can generate enough
money, the NGO will “save” the elephant
from its ignoble fate (through its affiliation
with CITES): by stopping poaching; by stopping
all legal elephant utilisation; by stopping
all legal elephant hunting; by putting a stop to
the ivory trade; and by applying total preservation
to all surviving elephants. By linking its
appeal to CITES, it seems, gives the NGO’s
appeal some kind of greater legitimacy in
the eyes of the uniformed public. And every
success the NGO achieves at CITES gives it
ever greater credibility.
There is a name for this kind of activity.
It is called “racketeering”.
A “racket” is a service that is fraudulently
offered by someone - for a price - to
solve a problem that does not exist; or, in
this case, the illusion of a problem that has
been especially “imagined” for the calculated
purpose of defrauding the unsuspecting
victim.
Racketeering is one of thirty-five criminal
activities that constitute organised crime -
according to the American RICO Act (Racketeer
Influenced and Corrupt Organisations
Act). And how “more organised” can this
crime get when dozens of animal rightist
NGOs are doing exactly the same thing at
exactly the same time?
24 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

Remember, these nefarious people are
NOT concerned about Africa’s elephants.
Their primary purpose is to extract large
sums of money from gullible publics in the
West. The two biggest animal rights organisations
in the world are reported to enjoy
annual incomes of more than US$ 200 million
and US$ 125 million, respectively.
What is at risk? ALL “living resources”
are at risk - not JUST the hunting industry.
All animal husbandry practices in agriculture
are at risk too!
Due to the fact that Southern Africa is
expected, by the whole world, to “preserve
its elephants at all costs”, we cannot manage
our excessive populations in any way. That
means we are going to have to sit back and
watch our elephants turning our national
parks into deserts. Kruger National Park
– just ONE of Southern Africa’s big game
reserves - has, within the time span of MY
adult life, lost more than ninety-five percent
of its top canopy trees (still counting)! American
hunters cannot take their elephant (and
lion) trophies - legally acquired in Zimbabwe
- back home; which means Southern Africa’s
wildlife industries - the backbone of which
is hunting - have already been downgraded.
CITES denies us the right to trade in our own
wildlife and wildlife products; which means
we cannot investigate the possibility that a
legal trade in ivory and rhino horn might be
the best way to stop commercial poaching.
And all along the way, Africa is being denied
much-needed revenue - for example, from
the legal sale of ivory and rhino horn - that
could be used to combat whatever poaching
is taking place.
Africa no longer has the freedom of
action to try different wildlife management
solutions - to develop better “best practice”
management options - because we have to
toe the CITES line! The world is, in fact, forcing
over-regulation and external control of
Africa’s wildlife utilisation programmes –
because the animal rightists want to STOP
them all.
NB: And over-regulation stifles vital innovation.
The most dangerous development in recent
years, however, has been the fact that
many First World governments are working
hand-in-glove with the animal rightist NGOs
- to achieve what are essentially animal rightist
goals. The American government, for example
- as I have previously explained - now
denies its hunters the right to return home
with their legitimately procured elephant and
lion trophies. It is now illegal to move carved
ivory artefacts - even ancient carvings in museums
- across many state lines in America
in the mistaken belief that that action will
help ‘save’ the elephants of Africa. The European
Union supports many similar animal
rights demands.
Finally, the animal rightists, through
CITES, are constantly wearing away at all
the opportunities that Africa has, to “use” its
wildlife sustainably for the benefit of Africa’s
rural people. That alone - if these pernicious
people succeed - will destroy any hope that
Africa’s wildlife can be ‘saved’ into posterity.
The only organisation in the whole
world that is specifically committed to stopping
this animal rights avalanche is South
Africa’s very new TRUE GREEN ALLIANCE
NGO - which will be operating hand-inglove
with our established wildlife industry
from now on. And - for what it is worth - I
have, personally, dedicated the rest of my
life to the task of destroying the credibility
of the animal rights doctrine in the public
domain.
Ron Thomson
President, TRUE GREEN ALLIANCE •
BOOK REVIEW by Dr. Rolf D. Baldus
Elephant ‘Conservation’ – The Facts and the Fiction
THE BOOK
OF THE
YEAR ON
ELEPHANT!
In 2016, we have seen many discussions,
conferences and campaigns on elephant
conservation. The opinions voiced are completely
opposed to each other. The loudest
are from people who live far away from elephant
and who have little knowledge of what
is happening on the ground. Many of these
make a living by collecting donations from
trustful wildlife enthusiasts for supposedly
saving elephant from extinction. Very little of
this money ever reaches the elephant ranges.
Ron Thomson knows what he is talking
about. He has worked thirty years in
wildlife management, in particular with
elephant. For some he is a controversial
figure, not only because he was personally
involved in culling over 3,000 elephant, but
also because he has very strong opinions
on what is good and what is bad elephant
management. However, his opinions are
supported by loads of facts and evidence.
In his latest book on elephant conservation,
he names and shames a great many
politically prominent people and organizations
- without fear or favor - in the fervent
belief that the public has the right to know
the truth about what is going on in Africa.
His startling revelations about the continent’s
commercial poaching industry are
truly astonishing and will shock many.
This publication is hard talk about wildlife
management and the animal welfare movement.
For me it is the most important book
of 2016 on elephant.
Ron Thomson
Elephant ‘Conservation’
The Facts and the Fiction
Ron Thomson Publications,
South Africa 2016
Price: ca. US$50 incl. postage
Order at: magron@ripplesoft.co.za
25

Survival
Cooking
Alone in the wilderness, without phone, GPS,
or car? No help in sight? In such an emergency
situation, it will be necessary to prepare food
using the simplest means. Our author is not only a
professional hunter, he is a survival trainer for the
military. Survival is essentially his ‘daily bread’ ...
Text and Photos: Douw Kruger
A francolin being roasted
over an open fire.
To get the most value out of a meal, survival
cooking demands creativity, patience and
effort. The primary objectives should be to
get the maximum nutrition and energy and make it
palatable and with an acceptable taste for easy and
safe digestion. The best way to do that is to cook or
boil all food so that all harmful bacteria, parasites,
and chemicals are destroyed, while all fibers, fats,
nutrients and minerals are retained.
Survival food and cooking can save you, but can
also make you sick and kill you! So clean all available
food thoroughly, cook it properly, and always consider
how you can maximize the nutritional value
and minimize the potential dangers.
Meat
Preparation
BLEEDING THE CARCASS
It is better to bleed all carcasses before using the
meat because blood is often the transport medium
for diseases. Bloody meat will also spoil more quickly
in the hot temperatures in Africa. The best way to
bleed an animal is to cut through the main arteries
on the sides of the neck, or by cutting the head off.
Make sure that the front part of the body is lower
than the rear. Avoid drinking fresh blood because it
isn’t worth the risk of getting an upset stomach, which
might result in vomiting and diarrhea. The salt and
iron content will also make you thirsty and if there
is not enough water available, drinking it can lead to
dehydration. Although the Maasai tribe in Tanzania
drink a mixture of fresh blood and milk, they also
consume water and other foods, and their digestive
systems are used to this practice.
SKINNING
All animals should be skinned, bird feathers plucked,
and fish scaled before cooking. This gets rid of external
parasites and hard-to-digest elements. Removing
the skin also helps to cool down the meat

as quickly as possible and slow down the
decomposition process. Skinning is best done
when the animal is still fresh, just after it has
been killed. The easiest and most comfortable
way is to hang it by its head or hind legs
from a tree. If it is too heavy, it can be skinned
on the ground. The main cut is made from
the middle of the lower jaw across the bottom
of the throat and chest or breastbone,
across the middle of the stomach between
the hind legs, around the anus to the tip of
the tail. The second cut should be between
the front legs, from hoof to hoof or paw to
paw across the chest. The third cut is from
one hind leg to the other across the groin
area. Then you can peel the skin from these
main cuts outwards towards the back. Most
animals, regardless of size, are handled basically
the same way, even frogs and reptiles.
Skinning can take a lot of energy and time,
so if you are not going to make use of the
entire carcass you can take the select parts,
such as the backstraps and buttocks, with
skin and all. The hide will protect the meat
from dust and flies.
GUTTING
When gutting, one of the most important
things is to be careful not to pierce the stomach,
intestines, or bladder. If these organs are
punctured the edible parts may be contaminated
with urine or feces, which will give the
meat an unpleasant taste. Open the carcass
by slitting the throat down to the chest and
cutting through the breastbone. Continue by
carefully slitting open the stomach muscle
from the chest to the anus. Then the entrails
can be pulled out by grabbing the windpipe
and pulling it towards the hind legs, while
cutting it loose where it is attached to the
backbone and inside of the ribcage. Do not
skin and gut any animals close to your shelter,
because this will attract predators and insects.
armpit. The hind legs can be separated from
the pelvis by pulling the leg away from the
body while cutting through the groin along
the pelvis. The neck, ribs and back can be
cut into smaller pieces by cutting between
joints. A panga or machete can also be used
to chop through the bones, but this will
create small bone fragments. If the whole
carcass is not going to be used, the prime
cuts are the fillets on the inside of the body
and the backstraps on the outside parallel
to the backbone.
EATING RAW MEAT
Raw meat can be eaten but will take longer
to digest. Your body will also use more water
to digest it, and that can result in thirst. So be
careful not to eat a lot of raw meat when you
do not have sufficient water. One particular
part of the carcass that can be eaten raw is
the liver of herbivores. It will not take a lot
of energy to digest because it is very tender
and also very palatable, with a sweet, pleasant
taste. Start by removing the gallbladder
carefully without contaminating the meat
with bile. Then pull off the thin membrane
covering the liver, squeeze out the blood by
pressing it between your hands, cut it into
small bite-sized chunks, and enjoy a lovely
wilderness sushi. Eating raw liver is a good
option when you do not have a fire, but it
does taste better cooked. You can place it
directly on hot coals, like the bushmen do.
Avoid the liver of predators and any with
obvious parasites or white spots.
Preparation
of Plants
LEAVES
The green, soft, young leaves and shoots of
some plants can be a substitute for green
vegetables, but some are hard, unpalatable
and difficult to digest. Try to collect young
leaves at the tip or growth-points of edible
plants like the pigweed (marog), Commelina,
baobab (Adansonia digitata) and cabbage trees
(Cussonia species). These are discussed in
more detail in the Survive installment dealing
with edible plants. The best way to cook
leaves is to cut them into small pieces, removing
all the hard parts like the stems, and
then to boil them until soft. You can change
the water a few times to get rid of the bitter
taste, and also add meat and bones to
improve the taste.
FRUIT AND FLOWERS
Wild fruit is usually more sour or bitter
than sweet, often there is not a lot of flesh,
and it usually is a case of more kernel than
fruit. Although wild fruit can be eaten raw,
boiling it will improve palatability and take
the sting out of the taste. It will also make
it more digestible, especially if you can only
Flower petals, such as those of water lilies, are edible.
CUTTING UP THE CARCASS
The carcasses of larger animals can be cut
up into smaller portions to make for easier
carrying and cooking. The shoulders can
be separated from the chest by pulling the
leg away from the body while cutting between
the shoulder and chest through the
27

find the dry and half-eaten parts left behind
by baboons, monkeys and birds. These can
be boiled, cooled, and used as a cold drink.
The same rules apply for wild and edible
flowers, like those of the baobab tree, water
lily, and aloe. They can be eaten raw, but our
stomachs are not used to such wild fare. An
upset stomach is the last thing you can afford
in a survival situation, so always try to cook
before consuming.
ROOTS AND BULBS
Roots and bulbs can be eaten raw, but they
taste much better when cut into slices and
boiled, or when slowly roasted over hot embers.
A few common edible roots or bulbs
are the water lily (Nymphaea species), wild
potato (Ceropegia rendallii), uintjie (Cyperus
fulgens), clover or sorrel (Oxalis species), wild
sweet potato (Ipomoea species), bulrush (Typha
capensis), gemsbok bean (Tylosema esculenta),
kambroo (Fockea species) and shepherd’s
tree (Boscia species). Some of these
roots are also good sources of moisture.
A termite
mound can be
made into a
smoker.
Cooking
Methods
BARBECUE
If you can make a fire, barbecuing or grilling
is the easiest way to cook food in a survival
situation. It is quite easy to create a forked
skewer. Make sure it is long enough so that
your hands will not be too close to the fire.
A grid can also be made from a few green
sticks braided together. The disadvantage of
this method is that the meat will lose moisture
and fat and will dry out quickly. Flat
rocks heated up in the fire can also be used
to cook or fry food.
BOILING
The primary advantages of boiling your
food are maximum nutrition retention, and
acceptable palatability and taste. Harmful
bacteria, parasites, and chemicals will also
be destroyed, while most fibres, fats, nutrients
and minerals will be retained. The biggest
challenge is finding a suitable container.
The bark of one of the few trees in Africa
which has a thick bark, the dikbas or livelong
(Lannea discolor) can be used for making
containers to store dry substances, but is
not suited for cooking. Even if you are in
the proximitiy of a stranded vehicle, it might
not be easy to find a suitable container, as
many components are made from plastics.
It might be a good idea to carry two water
bottles, which fit into lightweight aluminium
containers, in a canvas carry-bag. This will
ensure that you have water and containers
to do your cooking in.
BAKING
Baking can be done several ways, for example
in a hollowed-out termite mound, in a clay
cocoon, in hot ash, or in an underground
oven. Baking limits the water and nutrient
loss and will reward you with a juicy and
tender meal. Although these methods take
extensive preparation and a lot of time, they
are definitely worthwhile to attempt.
TERMITE MOUND OVEN
An old termite mound can be hollowed out
at the base. The hole should be big enough to
accommodate the meal (at least thirty centimeters
wide by thirty centimeters tall, and
sixty centimeters deep), and so enough heat
28 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

cocoon on hot coals and turn it regularly.
Your bird should be ready in two to three
hours. You might need to remove the feathers
from larger birds, such as guinea fowl, to
speed up the cooking process.
HOT ASH
will be retained in the tunnel. A suitable flat
rock can be used to cover the opening. An
oven door can be made by mixing sand from
the termite mound with water to produce
clay which is then used to cover a wooden
frame. A big fire is made inside the tunnel,
and allowed to burn for about two hours to
heat up the oven. The coals and ash are then
removed. Next, the meal is placed in the hole
and the entrance sealed so no heat escapes,
and in two to three hours it will be finished.
If an appropriate container is not available,
Larger meat pieces, here a leg of kudu,
are wrapped in the wet skin of the
animal hide and then cooked slowly in
an underground oven.
a wet animal skin can be used, sealed tightly
so that no sand or ash can get on the meat.
CLAY COCOON
This method works well for cooking birds if
you do not have a container. You need clay
soil, like the black turf which causes many
vehicles to get stuck in the rainy season, or
termite-mound clay. Cover the entire bird,
with its feathers still on, but the entrails removed,
in a thick layer of clay. Place the clay
Hot ash can be used to cook roots and bulbs.
Place your roots in hot ash from a fire. Turn
them regularly and continuously add new
ash. This is a slow process but it is the only
alternative when you do not have a container
for boiling. The same process can also be
used for cooking eggs, but just make sure
you place the eggs in an upright position and
make a small hole in the shell at the top. This
will allow the steam to escape, otherwise the
egg might explode. Animal heads can also
be cooked in hot ash. Bury the head with
the skin still on completely in hot ash. Keep
adding hot ash for about twelve hours. Then
remove the skin and enjoy a delicious meal,
including tender cheek meat, high energy
brains, and tasty tongue!
UNDERGROUND OVEN
An underground oven is an effective way to
cook large pieces of meat like a leg of impala
or kudu. Dig a square hole one meter by
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29

A smoker can be
built out of dung
and clay.
one meter, and half a meter deep. Collect
enough firewood to provide approximately
a wheelbarrow of hot embers. Build your
fire close to the hole. Place the meat in the
fresh wet skin of the prey, and cover and
seal properly so that no ash or sand can
get in and fluids can’t escape. Then layer
the bottom of the hole with about fifteen
centimeters of embers. Place the hide-protected
meat on the embers and add another
layer. Cover the top layer of embers with
a thick layer of dirt. Leave the meat in the
hole for three to four hours, before you
dig it out. The hide around the meat will be
hard like a shell. Open it up carefully after
the sand and ash have been removed. You
will be happily surprised to find the meat
comparable to the best that comes out of
your oven at home.
Food
Preservation
First, the root is dug-up, then
cleaned, and finally fibers
removed before drying.
With crushed and dried
roots of the Shepherd’s
tree, meat can be
preserved for a few days
without a refrigerator.
Food preparation and preservation are
linked. You cannot talk about the one without
talking about the other. First you have
to secure the food and prepare it, and then
you have to keep it from rotting. In the hot
African climate food can spoil quickly. Preserving
your food is critical.
DRYING
Coals can help detoxify
your body in case of food
poisoning.
The best and easiest way to preserve meat
and fruit is to dry it. First you need to slice
it into narrow strips. Then as quickly as possible,
hang it in the sun to dry before flies
and other insects can lay their eggs. Meat
can be cut in strips as thick as your little
finger and fish can be filleted and cut into
bigger strips. Remove all fat because it will
spoil quickly. A good place to hang meat is
on thorny branches. After it is dry it can be
carried in a breathable bag. This dried meat,
also called biltong or jerky, can be eaten just
like it is, or it can be re-boiled to soften or
made into a sort of stew.
30 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

SMOKING
Smoking is a wonderful way to preserve
meat and to add flavor. It will also keep insects
away. The quickest way is to use a warm
smoking process where the meat will also
be cooked by the heat. A smoking oven can
be built with a mixture of termite-mound
clay and fresh buffalo or elephant dung. A
much quicker way would be to find a termite
mound, which can be hollowed out and used
as a smoking-oven. Dig a tunnel horizontally
at the base of the mound towards the center
and a tunnel vertically from the top to
the bottom. It should be an l-shaped tunnel,
where the fire is made inside the horizontal
part and the vertical part will be the chimney,
through which the smoke will be concentrated
on the meat. A wooden grid must be
made from green sticks and placed into the
chimney about fifteen centimeters from the
top. The meat is placed on top of the grid and
then the chimney is covered with a lid made
from leaves or grass. A small fire is made in
the bottom tunnel, and wet bark or green
leaves are thrown continuously on the fire to
create lots of smoke. Place a big rock in the
opening of the bottom tunnel to control the
oxygen and to keep the flames small, without
letting the fire die. The thicker the meat the
longer it will take, so rather cut thin strips
which will be ready in a few hours.
SHEPHERD’S TREE ROOT
The root from a Shepherd’s tree can be
prepared and used as an effective preservative.
First you have to dig out a root as thick
as your arm and about one meter in length
or bigger. Then clean it and crush it with a
rock. Remove the hard woody parts and cut
the soft fleshy parts into small pieces. Spread
these little pieces out onto a big flat rock or
onto your shirt in the sun to dry for a day
or two. Once dried, you can crush or grind
the dried parts again until you have a coarse
white powder which is used to rub onto the
pieces of meat. It is effective on meat and in
milk. If you want to cook the treated meat,
the powder can be washed off or left on.
Shepherd’s tree root is edible, and coffee can
also be made from it.
STORAGE AND SAFE-KEEPING
Food gathering and survival cooking takes
a lot of effort and energy, and you cannot
afford to lose any food due to predators,
insects, or contamination. Do everything
possible to store your food safely, especially
at night. This is where a thorn bush comes in
handy. You can either secure your food in the
middle of a thorn bush, or if you have a rope
you can hang it in a tree out of the reach of
predators. It should be at least three meters
off the ground. Remember that vultures and
baboons have very keen eyesight, so cover
your food with bunches of green leaves and
make sure it is not visible from a distance. It
is not a good idea to keep food in or close
to your shelter.
FOOD POISONING
Food poisoning is a common problem in survival
situations and is often caused by spoiled
food. The best remedy is to eat a spoon of
charcoal three times a day and make yourself
some marula-bark tea. The charcoal will
absorb the poison and the tea will stop the
diarrhea. Remember to drink a lot of water
to avoid dehydration.
It is critical to realize that the bush
is neutral. It is neither for nor against
you. Your life depends on how well you
adapt and improvise.
Contact
For a real wilderness experience – you
are welcome to join me on a hunting
safari, photographic safari, or survival
course in South Africa. Please contact
me at info@douwkruger.co.za or
+27-12-5485819 or +27-829389465.
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BRITISH COLUMBIA: MOOSE
TEXT AND PHOTOS:
NICK TREHEARNE
EEEEEEE-OOOOOO-F-F-F!
It had been years since my
grandfather taught me the
sound that a moose makes
during the rut, and it always comes to
mind while in moose country. Fast forward
a few years, and there I was sitting on a
ridge in northern British Columbia with
my guide Weston Stevens as a bull moose
was coming in grunting. At first the grunts
were faint and sounded about a mile away,
but as the minutes passed they grew closer
and louder. And then it was as though the
moose appeared out of thin air. He was
only two hundred yards away and coming
in fast.
Initially I had my bow ready in the
hope of letting an arrow fly. Two hundred
– one- fifty – one hundred… When he
crested the small knoll that I had ranged
at sixty yards, I clipped on my release and
waited for him to take the last few steps
into a shooting lane.
It was early October and the temperatures
were dropping, the rut was going
strong, and I had high hopes of killing my
first Canadian moose.
Opportunity Knocks
Moose hunting in this particular area has
a way of filling your head with questions.
There is an abundance of sign, great habitat,
and no doubt there are many moose.
However, when you drive and hike through
miles and miles of backcountry only to
find you’ve lost a few hours with nothing
to show for it, your mind wanders. After
the initial day with not a single moose
sighting, and most of the second as well,
this was certainly the case for me. Then on
the second evening Weston took me into
a remote area that once contained a main
logging roadway that was now abandoned.
My questioning abruptly ceased when
in the distance we heard the faint bawling
of a cow in heat. EEEEEE-OOOOO!
Wait! Was that a grunt? We both looked
at each other simultaneously as the realization
set in that the cow was not alone. Step
by step we crept down the brush-choked
logging road. The wind was perfect and the
moose were thrashing around and making
lots of noise. I was optimistic and figured
that this was going to be my chance. All I

EEEEEE-OOOOOO-F-F-F.
The calling sequence that
started it all.

Bull moose in timber.
had to do was to sneak into range, and set
up with my bow in hand between the moose
and Weston, who would call the moose to
me. Textbook moose hunting, right?
Dropping off one side of the old road
as Weston dropped off the other, I managed
to sneak to within what sounded like
about eighty yards. My heart kicked into
overdrive as I felt a rush of adrenaline shoot
through my body. I knocked an arrow and
got ready for a potential shot. It was as
though Weston knew, because as soon as I
was set-up he began calling. There was no
response. Fairly certain this had startled
the moose, I stayed put hoping the bull
would come breaking through the bush
to investigate the intruder in his backyard.
A few minutes passed and still there
was an eerie silence. This meant one of
three things: the bull was young and didn’t
think he’d win the fight, he was grabbing
his cow and sneaking away, or he simply
didn’t like the sound of the call and figured
if he went silent, we wouldn’t find
him. These possibilities had just crossed
my mind when the next thing I knew, the
bull was letting out a loud barking noise
only a hundred yards to my right. He was
pulling a fast one on us!
Since there was no way Weston would
be able to see or hear what was going on
from his position, it was now or never. I let
out a few grunts, put down my bow and
grabbed my rifle, and went after the bull,
hoping to catch a glimpse of him and his
fleeting girlfriend. A few more grunts getting
ever fainter echoed through the forest.
I had been busted.
I circled back to Weston, thinking that
he might know of an escape route that
moose commonly take. He didn’t. We set
up once more in an attempt to call the bull
back to us, and although he answered a few
times, it became apparent that this was not
going to be the night.
Bull or Cow?
The following evening we headed into
a totally new area. This was definitely a
nice perk of hunting with Chilako Valley
Outfitters. They have access to a very large
concession, so there is no chance of beating
one area to death. There was no reason, unless
the hunting was hot, that we ever had
to go to the same area twice. So we found
ourselves cruising up to the base of one of
the largest mountains in the area.
We weren’t even in the area where we
planned to hike when Weston slammed
34 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

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35

The hunting territory was
enormous.
Decoying can be a great
way to pull a bull in close
during the rut.
on the brakes. Moose! Our hearts raced
as we fumbled around for our binoculars.
It wasn’t immediately apparent to me
where the moose was, so I asked Weston
to point out landmarks that would allow
me to put my eyes on the black fur, that he
had spotted through the six-foot-tall trees
that lined the cut block. “Right next to that
other tree, you know, that one!” Although
vague, his description actually made perfect
sense. I focused the dial on my binoculars
and there was the moose.
With its head down we couldn’t tell if
it was a bull or cow. It appeared to have a
large body, but it could have gone either
way. The longer it kept its head down, the
more the anticipation grew. It seemed like
an eternity before it finally lifted its head,
and we got a glimpse. Cow. Not what we
were hoping for, but cow moose are seldom
alone during the rut, so we scanned the
large cut for any other moose. Just as we
were ready to move, out stepped another
one. This time, it was the cow’s yearling calf.
While big enough to be on its own, it was
still staying close to its mother.
36 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

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MAG
375
MAG
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416
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416
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500/416
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404
RIMLESS
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JEFFERY
450
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470
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500
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505
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37

Often the best way to find a
bull moose is to locate a cow.
38 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

With no bulls spotted, we opted to
continue to a swamp further up the mountain.
A brief hike and investigation of the
area revealed plenty of moose sign and confirmation
of what we already knew. There
were a good number of moose in the area,
but we didn’t come across anything to put
a tag on.
Last Resort
By the time we had wrapped up at the
swamp, only two hours were left of legal
shooting light. This was not going to leave
us enough time to get to a new area. Since
the rut was in full swing, Weston suggested
we set up on a ridge above where we had
located the cow and calf earlier. Perhaps a
bull would pass through, or better yet come
looking for the cow.
Methodically we scanned the area,
picking apart every little detail and dark
spot that appeared out of place. We caught
a glimpse of the same cow, but she still
didn’t have male company. With less than
an hour of daylight remaining, Weston
asked, “What do you think, cow call?” I
gave the thumbs up. With the live decoy
feeding below us, if there was a bull
close-by, she would be the ideal way to
draw him into the open.
EEEEE-OOOOO-F-F-F. Weston
made one calling sequence. Patiently we
waited. The silence was suddenly broken
by a far-off grunt, coming from the back
of the large cut block, which was roughly
a thousand yards away. The first grunt was
followed by another a few seconds later.
The steady grunts grew louder and closer,
as the smitten bull came to investigate.
Since we weren’t in an ideal spot for a
comfortable rest, we relocated in anticipation
of where the bull would eventually
step out. If he continued on his chosen
path, he should first appear about two hundred
yards away on a small ridge that was
clear of any trees. It was a waiting game.
Listening to grunt after grunt, I habitually
re-checked my rest, rangefinder, rifle
and shooting lanes. The anticipation was
excruciating!
“There he is!” Weston said. He was
five yards to my left and had a clear view
as the bull emerged, but I couldn’t see it.
“He’s coming. Get ready.” I chambered a
round, and settled in, looking through my
riflescope at where the bull should soon
be visible. “Wait, he’s staring right at us!”
It felt like my heart was going to beat out
of my chest. This was it. I was finally going
to get my opportunity to kill my first
Canadian moose.
Considering the bull’s steady pace I
realized that he wasn’t going to let up,
so I asked Weston to pass me my bow.
It looked like he would soon be right on
top of us and well within bow range. I
rushed to range-find some surrounding
landmarks, and focused on containing my
excitement and keeping my composure.
If he appeared where I thought he was
going to, I’d have a clear sixty-yard shot.
Grunt, grunt, grunt – the bull continued
to come, head swaying back and forth
with each step.
I was ready to take the shot. When the
bull got to sixty-five yards he stopped. All I
needed was for him to take just a few more
short steps. As luck would have it, that’s
the exact moment the wind shifted and
blew our scent directly to the previously
unsuspecting bull. This caused him to turn
ninety degrees and get out of there.
Second Chances
It was like fate with this bull. Usually,
when an animal blows out, they go quickly
and quietly. This moose however was so
wrapped up in the rut that he walked off
slowly and continued grunting the entire
way. This was a second chance! Abandoning
my bow, I again grabbed my rifle and
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C
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39

Guide, Weston Stevens (l)
and Author, Nick Trehearne
(r) with the bull moose.
Sometimes the best feeling is
getting to put your hands on it.
40 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

Guides like to do things the
hard way. No pack!
took off after the moose, while Weston
remained behind to continue calling.
I managed to parallel the bull, just waiting
for a clear shot. He’d disappear and then
reappear, in and out of the bush. Finally, I
could see that he was going to break out into
a clearing in the bottom of a small drainage.
My only option was to rush ahead and
set up for a shot. As I anticipated, it wasn’t
long before he appeared, facing me and presenting
a hundred-yard shot. Comfortable
with the angle and situation, I took an offhand
shot. The bullet hit him directly in the
chest. Instantly I worked the bolt and took
a second shot as he turned ninety degrees,
presenting a broadside opportunity.
Both shots were fatal and within a minute
and only a few yards traveled, there was
nothing but silence in the forest. It was the
comforting silence that I like to hear after
a kill, when you know the animal is not
wounded or running through the brush.
This hunt was a dream come true. •
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41

His Majesty.

Namibia, Nyae Nyae, November 2014
Text: Bernd Kamphuis | Photos: Michael Viljoen, Bernd Kamphuis
For me, leopard hold a special place among Africa’s many game species.
These big cats seem almost magical. Their adaptability, strength, and
stamina are second to none. They are perfect hunters, masters of the
element of surprise, and are the sovereign rulers of their habitat.
Taking a mature leopard was my dream ...

Leopards are significantly larger than leopardesses; thick necks,
bigger heads, and masculine face shapes indicate males.
It is late in the year, and now in early
November in northeast Namibia,
the sun burns mercilessly from the
sky. Temperatures during the day
hover around forty degrees Celsius. About
a week ago, before our arrival, the temperatures
were even higher. The thermometer
climbed as high as forty-six degrees. The
hunter that Stephan was guiding for elephant
had to cope with a truly extreme
hunting experience. But, the heat in Namibia
is dry, and after a few days we grew
accustomed to it.
Once again, my path has led me to
Bushmanland. However, in this case my
journey took me on a couple of detours
first. The hunt had been booked for leopard
with my friend Ronnie, an old-school
professional hunter, on Otjiruse, the farm
of Frank and Gudrun Heger. The previous
year I had experienced a special hunt
there for kudu, so I knew the magnificent
farm and the very hospitable owners well.
But now, due to a change in the procedure
for granting leopard licenses, we suddenly
found ourselves without one. No license -
no hunting! The hunt was cancelled, but
the flights were already booked. Ronnie
however approached the situation constructively,
and had an idea. “The old man
upstairs has a plan,” he said simply. Good
advice is rare....
Since he has a more direct connection
‘upstairs’ than I do, I trusted him and his experience.
Following a few phone calls, a new
idea was born. Perhaps Stephan, a mutual
friend who hunts in the Nyae Nyae concession
area of Bushmanland, had a license
available. In the event that his last guest
hadn’t killed a leopard, because the primary
focus was elephant, he would have one. And
indeed he did. Stephan’s client departed after
he killed his bull. Now my dream was a step
closer. Spontaneously, my old friend Henry
also decided to join us. Henry and I have
been on several safaris together, and he is a
friend of Ronnie’s as well. The group wasn’t
only complete, it was perfect!
Back in Paradise
Since the journey by car from Windhoek
to Bushmanland is long, we make an overnight
stop at Stephan’s farm Aandster.
Here I meet Joris, Ronnie’s young trainee
from Germany. Just finished with high
school, he is taking some time off before
starting college to see some of the world,
and he will accompany us in Bushmanland.
Aandster is along our route and we
pack provisions for the coming days in the
wilderness.
The next morning we take gravel roads
to Tsumkwe, the capital of the Bushmen.
We then leave the unsightly and growing
town, and drive towards the Khaudum
National Park on the deeply rutted ‘sandpad’
to camp. A sense of freedom spreads
within me when we finally turn off the
main road. Now it is only about forty
minutes to camp. An ancient baobab can
be seen from a distance, under which the
grass roofs of the small ‘lapa’ are bunched.
44 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

On the first days of the hunt we pursue antelope in an
effort to secure meat for our baits.
We pass the camp waterhole and arrive -
arrive in the land of elephants, arrive in the
land of leopards.
Inwardly, I am excited to my core, because
even though I have been along on a
few leopard hunts before, this is my first
hunt for the spotted beauty, and it is incredibly
relaxing and nice to share this experience
with friends. I also consider it an
honor that both Henry and Ronnie basically
move to the second row, and devote all their
attention to our quarry. We’re together all
the time, and everyone helps. Ronnie has
hunted leopard for decades, and for him it
is the game species par excellence. Stephan,
‘only’ in his mid-thirties, is likewise a very
experienced leopard hunter. And Henry?
Henry is totally relaxed, has killed two leopard
and is happy just to be here. Through his
many jokes he willingly, and sometimes unwittingly,
improves the mood. That’s a good
thing on a hunt that can be nerve-wracking.
It helps immensely when a few jokes reduce
the tension from time to time.
Working for Success
Due to the heat the baits won’t last long.
Even though leopard will stay at one for a
long time, and consume strongly decomposing
meat, this disadvantage presents a
fundamental problem. However, before we
can think about baits, we need meat, and
we need to ascertain the whereabouts of a
big mature male. Only then can we decide
where to bait. The task for the next days
will involve killing a few game animals,
finding leopard sign, and analyzing movement
patterns.
In addition to the elephant, which have
made this area famous, there are many
other naturally occurring game species
in the Nyae Nyae Concession. Gemsbok,
kudu, roan, wildebeest, springbok, eland,
duiker, steenbok, warthog, along with wild
dogs, hyena, lion and leopard are the typical
wildlife species that inhabit the almost one
million hectares of hunting grounds. If we
can quickly get an opportunity on an oryx
or kudu, it will be a perfect situation. They
are still open to hunt, and a portion of the
resulting venison could be used as bait.
In the early afternoon on the second
day of the hunt we discover two kudu bulls
about an hour’s drive from camp. From the
vehicle we see the bulls standing under a
bush. After driving another kilometer past
them, Stephan, our tracker Peter, and I get
ready and grab our rifles and some water.
The bulls have moved on, but we find their
spoor and follow. The tracks show that they
bounded off, but calmed down perhaps a
half kilometer away. Now things get serious!
Stephan and Peter focus on tracking,
as my eyes scan the distance. Nevertheless,
I am not the one who sees the bulls first.
Stephan discovers them. The two kudu are
moving through some dense bush in front
of us, and both are huntable.
To one side the terrain opens up, and
the bulls are heading in that direction. We
anticipate their path, and close the distance
quickly. The first bull passes through an
45

Shared joy after taking
a good kudu bull.
Clouds announce the coming rain, which
the landscape desperately needs.
46 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

Some of the meat is used
for the baits.
Preparations are made
to lay a scent trail.
opening between two bushes. Immediately,
the shooting sticks are in position with the
rifle resting in the fork. When the second
bull steps into the gap I can only see its
neck and head. The rest of its body is covered
by thick branches. This is too uncertain
for me and I decide not to shoot.
The bulls haven’t noticed us, but continue
to move quite briskly. We follow
and eventually get a second opportunity.
One of the kudu steps into an opening
perhaps 130 meters away. In that instant
I notice that it is not only a good bull, but
a rather exceptional one. When he briefly
presents his shoulder, I shoot. To my surprise
the bullet passes over his back, a
clean miss. I don’t have any time to be
annoyed by this, because the second bull
runs toward us. He has smaller horns,
but is old. When he lopes past at fifty
meters I shoot three times. I know that
my shot was well-placed, but because I
am hunting with my old Sauer 90 in
caliber .308 Winchester, and loaded with
Nosler Partition bullets, I keep shooting
as long as he is in sight.
Without waiting, we walk to the point
of the shot, find blood, and quickly follow.
We find the dead bull only a hundred meters
away. I am pleased with him, he is old
and totally free-range - but I will always
think of the other bull, with his incredibly
thick horns that were massive from the
base to the blunt tips, and strikingly dark,
almost black. Would he have exceeded the
sixty-inch mark? Stephan is convinced of
it. What a bull!
The Next Step
Tracks of all kinds of game animals litter
the sandy roads. However, we are only interested
in leopard prints. We find many
cat tracks, but also many left by hyena,
which leave nail marks, and which are
shaped differently. The differences don’t
escape Stephan, Ronnie and our tracker,
but for me it difficult to tell them apart.
Tracks of leopard and leopardesses can
be differentiated quite easily due to their
size. The tracks left by males are clearly
larger. We work our way from waterhole
to waterhole, and eventually find some
fresh tracks. We then follow them and try
to reconstruct from where the large cats
are coming, when they are drinking, and
where they are going. This is the basis of
leopard hunting, but beyond the tactical
technique used, you should always follow
your intuition. Stephan, Ronnie and the
Bushmen definitely have this intuition, but
in this I am more of an observer.
On the third day we hang three baits,
and on the fourth we follow up with number
four and five. Regulations state that a
bait must be at least five hundred meters
from a permanent water source. A government
game guide accompanies us to make
sure the laws are followed.
47

48 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

Top: Strong wire, expertly twisted,
ensures that the bait isn’t torn from
the tree by the leopard.
Left: The bait is hoisted onto the
appropriate branch.
Middle: A scent trail, made with fresh
rumen, provides incentive for a leopard
to investigate our bait.
Above right: A leopard track. In
contrast to hyena, which are numerous
in the hunting area, claw marks aren’t
visible in the spoor left by leopards.
After the bait is hung, it is time to wait.
Has it been hit? If so, is the cat a leopard
or leopardess? Only males can be hunted,
and shooting a female is met with a formidable
punishment. By the fourth day none
of the baits have been hit. However, there
are fresh leopard tracks in the sand near
one. Perhaps the cat has a fresh kill that it
prefers over our stale appetizer. We confer,
debating this and that, and more and
more I begin to understand that this type
of hunting is ultimately from a blind on a
bait. Even if it is easier to hunt leopard on
a large concession like this, than on farms,
where it is substantially more difficult, it
is demanding nevertheless. Not physically,
but mentally. I have never walked so little
on an African hunt. No shot at any game
should be taken lightly, but shooting at
dangerous game is another thing altogether.
If the shot misses, not only does it
increase the animal’s suffering, it exposes
the hunters to substantial danger. Tracking
a wounded leopard is not child’s play,
and many African hunters consider it the
most dangerous of hunting situations. It
is not that such tracking situations often
end fatally, but that leopard attack silently
from an ambush, and pounce on a pursuer’s
neck without warning and out of nowhere.
Leopard are sometimes referred to as
the ‘King of Beasts’. Ronnie and Stephan’s
admiration for them comes through in our
many conversations around the campfire.
They talk about their respect for the supple
power of the big cats, and share their sometimes
outlandishly dangerous encounters.
With the help of wildlife biologists,
Stephan has attempted rudimentary estimates
of how many leopard occur in Nyae
Nyae. While the number is yet unsubstantiated,
it is safe to say that there are a
great many leopard here. The quantity of
sign, which I have encountered on several
hunts in this area, is simply amazing. Not a
day passes without our encountering fresh
tracks! The yearly quota for leopards in
Nyae Nyae is three.
But tracks in the sand serve only as
evidence that leopard are in the area - we
want to actually see one! And their mere
presence certainly doesn’t mean that taking
49

Professional hunter
Stephan Jacobs holding up
the very old leopard.
50 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

a mature male is easy. It’s like a game of chess, where you approach
your goal step by step. After you’ve made your move, you must
wait for the counter...
Lucky Hunters
It is day five. So far we haven’t had a leopard at any bait. Even
today the first three baits we check have not been hit. We continue
our drive to the next, which is in the proximity of the waterhole.
We approach the bait tree carefully through the bush, a leopard
could be in the tree even during the middle of the day. He isn’t
there now - but he was!
In this tree we had hung a hindquarter from a kudu, and a
shoulder from an impala that we brought with us from Aandster.
The shoulder is missing, the leopard had ripped it down. That is
bad, but the tracks under the tree indicate that a big, strong male
has taken it or eaten it. We will see.
Immediately we get to work and set up a spacious pop-up
blind, and with meticulous care we set out to camouflage it. Using
sticks, branches, and bunches of grass, we attach everything with
wire, hoping that our hiding spot will completely blend with the
surrounding bush. This can’t be done particularly quietly, but after
a while the pop-up blind isn’t visible, and looks like a natural
component of the landscape. Two chairs are placed inside, and we
fashion a solid rest for my rifle. Then we make our way back to
camp, with heads buzzing around the question of when we can
man it for the first time.
While it makes sense to wait and give the leopard time until
he feels completely comfortable, dark clouds arrive, promising
rain, which would mean water everywhere in the bush. In addition,
there are almost always a lot of elephant near our baits,
especially cows with calves, which present a danger. The decision
is made, we will sit this afternoon. At four o’clock we want to
be in the blind!
An afternoon rest is unthinkable. Instead I sight in my rifle at
eighty-three meters, because that is precisely the distance from the
blind to the bait. At exactly four o’clock Stephan and I are sitting
in the blind. Ronnie, Joris, and the trackers wait a few kilometers
away in the jeep. Driving back to camp isn’t worth it.
A pop-up blind has the advantage that it covers your movements.
There are only small window flaps, that are also carefully
camouflaged, and that grant a sparse view. The major disadvantage
is the heat. In heat like this it is not only warm, but like being in
a sauna. After only a few minutes I am dripping wet with sweat.
Time passes slowly and because we have forgotten to bring
cushions to use on the chairs, even the slightest movement makes
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51

a noise. Although it is only scarcely audible,
it gets on our nerves. And then I get a sudden
urge to cough, which can hardly be
suppressed. Stephan’s eyes flash at me in
annoyance, as I try repeatedly to muffle
my cough. Finally he loses his patience
and says, “If you are not absolutely quiet
immediately, then we have to leave!”
With maximum concentration I finally
manage not to make another sound. As
the sun sinks slowly towards the horizon
things become exciting! Up to now everything
has been still. Now suddenly I have
the urge to cough again, and unfortunately
just when it is getting interesting. Stephan
sits silent beside me. For a moment his eyes
narrow and burn a hole in me. I get the
message.
Shortly afterwards, we hear several
loud birds simultaneously. “That’s him.
He’s coming”, whispers Stephan, but the
bush remains silent. Just as we are about
to depart, the unbelievable happens. At the
exact moment that Stephan picks up the
radio and begins quietly speaking, a leopard
suddenly appears and sits under the
tree. He looks around, glances upward, and
the tip of his white tail twitches back and
forth. “Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!”, Stephan
whispers emphatically, so that Ronnie will
remain where he is. It works.
Without taking a step, the leopard
jumps up two meters into the lower fork
of the tree. He remains there for a moment
before climbing to the bait. He appears
relaxed on the big branch where the bait
is hanging, and studies his surroundings
slowly and carefully. I am electrified. What
a sight! The sovereign beauty that the leopard
radiates is amazing. It is big, blocky,
masculine, and definitely not delicate like
a leopardess, clearly an old mature male.
He moves sleekly to the bait, swings the
claws of his left paw down to it, and lifts
the kudu hindquarter onto the branch as
if it doesn’t weigh anything.
Impressive! Without hesitation he begins
to eat while standing, then lies down.
Stephan has now unequivocally identified
him as a male. If the opportunity presents
itself we will attempt to take him.
The leopard continues to eat, rises, and
lies down again. While he is eating I won’t
shoot, and definitely not while he is lying
Rifle, Ammunition, Optics, Shot Placement
Every hunt requires preparation – even
regarding having the appropriate gear.
On this hunt I carried a Sauer 90 in
caliber .308 Winchester. While this
relatively small caliber may seem surprising,
it was selected with much deliberation.
Leopards have a thin hide,
and usually weigh between fifty and
sixty kilograms. Although there are
cats that weigh seventy kilograms,
and even some monsters that tip the
scales at well over eighty, their weight
should be taken with a grain of salt. It
can make a big difference if the cat is
weighed with a full or empty stomach.
That can quickly add up to a difference
of up to ten kilograms. Secondly,
many weight calculations simply can’t
be trusted. Not all leopard are actually
weighed, and estimates based on photographs
are unreliable. The same cat
looks completely different, depending
on whether the photo is of him lying
flat on the ground or if someone is
holding him up.
You also have to take into consideration
the territory from where
the leopard came. The cats from
Bushmanland tend to be more athletically
slim, while those from farmland
in other parts of Namibia are
significantly larger. A friend killed a
leopard in Friedrichswald that had an
empty stomach but that still weighed
eighty-nine kilograms. My cat weighed
exactly sixty kilograms and measured
217 centimeters in length.
Knowing the respective weight of
a leopard when choosing a caliber isn’t
important. What is important however
is to select a bullet that immediately
delivers as much energy as possible.
The most important thing is shot
placement. Because a leopard’s organs
are located a bit farther back than
usual, and the heart is very small, the
shot must be just behind the shoulder,
and in the lower half of the body.
I shot my leopard with 180-grain
Nosler Partitions, which are relatively
soft bullets that give up their energy
quickly. There are many cartridges
suitable for leopard hunting. My best
advice is to discuss the matter with an
experienced professional hunter and
make use of his suggestions regarding
caliber and ammunition selection.
Quality optics with light gathering
capability are vital, since most shots
are taken very late in the day. On this
hunt I used Swarovski Z6(i) 2.5-15x44.
52 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

down. We have already discussed taking
the appropriate shot. I will only shoot if
he is standing. The minutes trickle by, and
I keep the cat in my riflescope. But it is
gradually getting dark, and there isn’t much
time remaining.
Then the leopard straightens up and
stands calmly on the branch. Ever so slowly
my finger curves around the trigger. The
muzzle flash blinds me. The next thing
I hear is a dull thud. At that moment
Stephan says euphorically, “That’s how to
shoot a leopard!” We hear a short hissing
growl followed quickly by a second.
I know that I made a good shot, but
nevertheless it is with mixed feelings that
we step from the blind and make our retreat.
Soon we hear the approaching jeep.
Ronnie inquires calmly how the shot went
and what could be heard thereafter. The
professional hunters discuss the situation,
then flashlights are dug out of the Toyota,
and fastened to the rifles in makeshift
fashion. I step into the dark with them.
It was my shot and I have a responsibility
to see it through. Staying close together
we slowly make our way back to the bait
tree. The spot where the leopard fell to
the ground becomes visible in the narrow
beams of light. He is not there, which
isn’t too surprising considering the short
growling we heard. However, the grass
to the left is suddenly much higher than
before, and the bush in the background a
lot thicker...
Stephan finds some bubbly spots of
blood, and also paw prints. We are on the
blood trail, following shoulder to shoulder.
And then Ronnie says the liberating
words, “There he is.” First I see dark
yellow, then the black spots appear. He
is dead. He made it about forty meters
from the bait tree. Humble joy fills us, and
the built-up tension dissolves slowly. We
share the moment jubilantly, but quietly. A
really old leopard is at our feet, scarred and
tattered from many battles. If he could
talk about his hunts, I wonder what he
would say. His fangs are a deep dark color,
and the left one is broken. I carry him on
my shoulders out of the bush, grateful to
have killed a leopard, and to have friends
like these.
•
Leopards are adaptable, intelligent predators.
They occur not only in the wilderness but also
near large African cities.
53

Photographing a couple of
chamois along a mountain path.
New Zealand: Chamois
Return to the
West Coast
Text and Photos: Ben Salleras
My left leg wavered around in the fast-flowing water,
frantically trying to find the next foothold. The force of
the current was so powerful that I could only just maintain my balance on the
slippery rocks below. I’d already completely lost feeling in my legs, the glacial
water was so cold it was stinging. Was it really worth it? If I slipped, I’d have
no chance of saving my bow, because I wouldn’t be able to save myself from
what was downstream while still grasping onto it, it would be irretrievable.
If I turned back, I could get to the edge of the river safely, but would sacrifice
an opportunity to stalk the chamois I’d just spotted further upstream.

Early Success
The desire to hunt can sometimes lead us
into situations that aren’t exactly safe, and
this was certainly getting close to one of
those. I was pushing the boundaries in
terms of maintaining my own safety, but
the instinctive urge to stalk this animal
was very strong. It was the first afternoon
of a five-day semi-guided hunt with my
friend Marcus Pinney of Wilderness Trophy
Hunting, and it hadn’t taken us long
to get into some action!
I finally overcame my instinctive apprehension
and decided to push that foot just
a little further out, eventually locating another
rock to support me, and getting just
enough grip on it, all the time being pushed
by the great force of the current within the
deep swift water which was above waistheight.
Another foothold, and another, I
scarcely managed to maintain balance, until
I passed the deepest section of the river,
and began wading through shallower water
on the other side. It was game on. The
chamois I had spotted earlier was a further
two hundred metres upstream, now out of
sight, but I was confident she would still
be feeding casually in the same location. I
stalked in tight to the rock wall beside
me, glassing ahead every few steps, until
I finally spotted her. Like a lizard I slowly
slithered over the moss-covered rocks.
With no vegetation I only had them as
cover. Eventually I got into a good shooting
position at twenty-five metres, as she
fed quartering away from me on the other
side of a steep-sided stream, and the shot
flew true. She disappeared over the edge
of a rock face and out of sight, but I knew
she wouldn’t be far.
The next challenge was retrieving her. I
had to execute some of the most difficult
rock-climbing moves I’ve ever accomplished
to get down a steep rock face, across
a deep-flowing stream which ran into the
main river, up the rock face on the other
side, then down into a tight gut where she
disappeared. I was really pushed to my
physical limits! Luckily she hadn’t gone far
at all, and with the chamois over my shoulder
I managed to climb back out using tree
roots and vines. It was definitely the most
challenging retrieval I’ve attempted. Safely
back at our backpacks, we got some photos
in the fading light, and hiked back to the
vehicle in the dark. I was ecstatic with such
a perfect start to my hunt! The focus now
would turn to finding a nice buck….
A Year Earlier
I had hunted chamois with my bow for the
first time exactly a year earlier with Marcus
in the same area. During that hunt I
managed to take a nice doe, as well as a
hornless doe which had completely lost her
horns due to horn rot, which is a common
issue for New Zealand’s West Coast chamois.
During my hunt we spotted fewer
bucks than we’d hoped, they just didn’t
play the game. On one occasion Marcus
and I hiked a long way up a river system to
hunt some ‘slips’ (erosion or landslide creating
an open clearing where chamois like
to feed) he knew of. While glassing one
particular slip, we spotted a beautiful big
buck feeding alone. I put in a great stalk to
get into shooting position, emerging from
the thick bush directly above him. Stalking
in to just eighteen metres, I couldn’t believe
how lucky I had been to be presented
such a golden opportunity. Hiding behind
a large tree, the buck feeding unaware at a
steep angle below me, I settled my nerves
and prepared for what would be a very simple
bow shot. On taking the shot however,
56 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

A female chamois traversing a field of
rocks near a mountain stream.
some old target panic problems reappeared,
and I dropped my bow arm just a fraction
as I shot, the arrow crashing harmlessly below
the buck’s chest. I was absolutely horrified,
and that shot haunted me for the year
to follow. After all the effort, to miss such
an easy shot at such close range crushed
me, and I felt bad for Marcus too, who
would have been very pleased to see me
take a nice buck. Nevertheless, I yearned to
return. I had to get back and give it another
go, and one year later I found myself back
on the West Coast staying with Marcus
and his lovely wife Kaylyn on their beautiful
farm north of Franz Josef, with the
mighty Southern Alps towering above us
to the east.
The Spot
Since I’d hunted the area before, for this
hunt Marcus kindly allowed me to hunt
alone for most of the time. I much prefer
to hunt alone for species as wary as chamois,
plus Marcus had plenty of work to do
back at the farm. The previous year, while
flying into one of Marcus’ best spots in a
chopper, we crossed over an area of land
with good visibility, and spotted a large
group of chamois feeding in a clearing, in
the middle of the day. There were a couple
of really nice trophies amongst them. I had
never stopped thinking about that spot,
and discussed with Marcus a plan to hike in
to this area to investigate it further. Once
some morning rain had cleared a little, I
hiked in approximately ten kilometres to
the same clearing, using my GPS Kit app
on my phone to guide me. The chamois
sign on the hike were very encouraging,
plenty of tracks and scat. The further I
hiked, the more sign I saw. Much was so
fresh that I knew I must have only just
missed them. Realising that I would have
to turn around soon, and only sighting and
shooting a hare for the day, I decided it was
time to return, making it back to my vehicle
well after dark. Getting back to Marcus’
place, I explained what I had seen, and we
both agreed it would be wise to return to
this spot again during my hunt.
57

58 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

Salmon
Top: The scenery of the
West Coast is magnificent.
Left: A break in the hunt
due to weather was filled
with great salmon fishing.
The following day it rained heavily all day, and while
not an ideal day for chamois we knew the salmon would
not be worried by the weather! February is a great time
to find chinook salmon migrating up the streams and
rivers in certain parts of New Zealand, and they are a
highly prized sport and eating fish for the locals. Marcus
and I went down to his favourite salmon spot, and
flicked spinners into the depths of the stream for several
hours. Salmon fishing in New Zealand’s streams
is truly a test of patience, more so than any other style
of fishing I’ve tried, but eventually, if you’re very lucky,
you may be rewarded with a strike. After many fruitless
hours of working the same section of river, and several
snagged (and lost) lures, I finally saw Marcus’ rod bend
over almost in half, he’d hooked one! After an epic
battle, he brought the fish into the bank, only to find
the salmon had been foul-hooked (not hooked in the
mouth), and under local regulations it was not legal to
keep a fish caught this way. Not being able to hear what
Marcus was saying over the water noise, I could not
believe what I was seeing when I saw him unhook the
salmon and casually release it back into the water! I ran
around the rocky bank to him to check if he had gone
completely mad after all this heavy rain, but alas he
was fine and explained what had happened. I couldn’t
believe it, by this stage I could almost taste that fresh
smoked salmon in my mouth!
For several more hours we worked our lures, and
finally when I least expected it while half daydreaming,
I had some luck. A beautiful fish of about ten pounds,
put up a great fight in the swift water, and I was over
the moon to land such a nice fish. As luck would have
it, not five minutes later another silver flash and another
beautiful fish struck my lure. We returned home and
smoked some fillets, enjoying fresh smoked salmon for
our entrée, with crackers and cheese. During my trips
with Marcus I’ve found that fresh smoked salmon is
without doubt the single best food source one can find
in the wild. They are my favourite thing in the world
to eat. Life could not have been any better that night
as we celebrated our catch with a few ales, discussing
tactics for my final few days of hunting.
After the Rain
The rain unfortunately hung around, and the windows
of opportunity were limited. We were housebound
during the heavier downpours, which gave me time to
admire Marcus’ impressive display of trophies, some
incredible New Zealand whitetail, chamois and tahr
amongst them. Finally a good break in the weather
59

gave us a chance to hunt one of Marcus’
favourite spots. In this particular area we
found chamois emerging to feed immediately
after the rain. Old timber logging
tracks snaking through the thick bush were
utilised to find chamois out feeding on the
freely available grass. We stalked ever so
slowly, ready for a chamois around every
corner.
We spotted a few does and kids during
the first half of our hunt, and got some
great photos and video footage, but it
wasn’t until late in the day that we spotted
our first buck. He was feeding out on the
track, had a really nice set of hooks and
a much darker coat than most chamois
at that time of year. I split from Marcus
and commenced sneaking in, using the
limited cover as best I could as the buck
fed unaware of our presence. As I got to
about sixty metres however, I felt the wind
gently blowing into the back of my neck. A
few moments later and without hesitation
he leapt into the thick scrub without the
chance for a shot. Less than an hour on, we
came across another feeding chamois, this
time a huge-bodied buck with no horns
whatsoever – both lost to horn rot. He fed
straight along the cleared path towards us,
almost as if he knew he was safe. He came
right in under ten yards without realising
we were there! I shot some photos with
my phone before he dashed into the bush
to safety.
On my second-to-last day of hunting
I decided it was time to return to the spot
I’d hunted earlier and seen plenty of sign, I
had a feeling about this place. The weather
forecast was much better, which would
Top: A female chamois
with her kid.
Middle: Chamois tracks
in the mud.
Bottom: Blood on
a fern along an easy
bloodtrail.
60 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

61

The author with his West Coast
archery chamois.
62 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

allow me a full day of hunting. I headed
off alone early in the morning, wanting to
make the most of the day. Over the first
few kilometres I sighted no chamois, but
again lots of fresh sign. Stalking in on an
ideal looking slip, I spotted a lone buck
feeding, but he was immature and I decided
to leave him, I stalked in as close as possible
and took a few photos. Not long after, I
reached an opening in a large stream, immediately
spotting a group of chamois off
in the distance in the bed of the stream. I
stayed in as much cover as possible, tight
against the thick bush at the edge, slowly
making my way closer and closer to the
group. At about the halfway point, while
fully focussed on the group of three chamois
still two hundred metres ahead, I heard
a rustle in the bush in front of me, and out
of the darkness walked a beautiful heavy
buck. Catching his movement just in time,
I stayed absolutely dead still, as he emerged
onto the streambed and stared intently at
me, at a little over ten metres. I could tell
he didn’t know whether to run for his life
or do nothing at all. He stared at me for
several minutes, without moving a muscle,
and I followed suit, staring straight down
at the ground and not daring to look him
in the eye. With adrenalin surging through
me, and a trophy buck standing and staring
at such amazingly close proximity, it was
very difficult to control the shaking!
Amazingly, the buck decided I was no
great threat, and took a few more steps,
again staring straight at me. I could not
believe my luck, and dared not move, holding
on to the extremely slim hope that I
might still get a shot. He just couldn’t figure
out what I was. The Ridgeline Buffalo
camouflage was concealing me the best I
could hope for, matched perfectly to the
thick West Coast bush. Again he took a
few steps, and again he stared, for another
minute at least. Even at such close range, he
couldn’t determine what I was. He started
to walk off, not looking overly concerned,
and as he passed a large overhanging tree
out over the stream, I had just two seconds
to draw out an arrow and place it on the
string. Luckily he didn’t catch the movement,
and continued walking along the
streambed, still within twenty metres. I still
couldn’t move an inch until he passed another
piece of cover to hide my movements.
Finally he passed another overhanging tree
branch, giving me the opportunity to draw
my bow.
After such intense adrenalin and standing
dead still for a long period of time, I
struggled to settle my pin, as the buck
stared back at me around twenty-five metres
away. I released my arrow, the buck
exploded out of there and ran up the
streambed, coming to rest within sight. The
shot was not perfect, but a quick finishing
arrow secured him. Absolutely elated and
still in shock after such a close-quarter
encounter, I inspected the beautiful thick
hooks my buck sported. I had done it! I
sat down next to him and savoured the
magic moment. These are the moments I
live for. I was probably the happiest man
on the planet at that point in time, the sun
was shining, the gorgeous New Zealand
scenery surrounded me, and I’d just taken
a dream chamois buck with my bow. Life
just doesn’t get any better.
•
Wilderness Trophy Hunting
The summer months (December to March) provide an excellent
opportunity to hunt New Zealand’s West Coast chamois, and are
often overlooked. The chamois tend to migrate down to lower elevations,
frequenting streams, slips and clearings, enabling superb
stalking opportunities for the bowhunter or rifle hunter alike.
The action is likely to be close and fast, with visibility in the bush
close to zero, as opposed to the open tops often associated with
chamois hunting in New Zealand. The hunting is very accessible,
and the weather is very mild, much the opposite to conditions
in the Northern Hemisphere at that time. Salmon fishing is an
awesome way to fill in time between hunts too!
Marcus Pinney of Wilderness Trophy Hunting is one of New
Zealand’s most respected outfitters, offering first-class freerange
hunts for red stag, Himalayan tahr, Alpine chamois, and
extraordinary fallow deer. The accommodation at Marcus and
Kaylyn’s property is superb; they are the most welcoming and
warm people you’re likely to meet, and the scenery in the area
is breathtaking. This is one of the most enjoyable hunts I’ve ever
experienced worldwide, and anyone wishing to hunt an Alpine
chamois and experience the best of the New Zealand wilderness
should seriously consider a summer hunt with Wilderness
Trophy Hunting.
You can find out more at www.wildernesstrophyhunting.com.
63

Hunting in
Kenya
1966-1977
Text and Photos: Wolfgang Schenk

When you speak with the people who were
there, conditions under which one could
hunt just a few decades ago in Africa seem
nearly unbelievable, particularly if you
lived there. For example, all the hunting
blocks in Kenya were open to residents for a
small fee. Wolfgang Schenk, once a resident,
worked and hunted there. The following
is an account from another time, from a
Kenya that was the center of big game
hunting, a country with an abundance of
game and great landscapes, and once, one of
the most spectacular in Africa.
Until hunting was banned in Kenya
in 1977, Nairobi was the main
starting point for safaris in East
Africa. In the early 60s, an attempt
in the neighboring countries was made
to counteract this through the establishment of
the state firms, Tanzania Wildlife Safaris and
Uganda Wildlife Safaris, but it didn’t change
Kenya’s dominant position.
The best part of living and working in East
Africa was that resident hunters had approximately
the same rights that professional hunters
had for their clients. Kenya was divided into
about ninety hunting blocks, which could be
booked up to a half-year in advance. The rule
was that there could be two visiting guns and
resident guns at any one time, i.e. if two clients
were with one or two professional hunters in a
block, then two resident hunters could hunt in
the same area.
I arrived in Kenya in the summer of 1964
to work for Zimmermann Ltd. The following
six months I accompanied friends on weekend
hunts, and undertook some great mountain tours,
partly with the Mountain Club of Kenya. In 1965
I moved to Uganda to work for Jonas Brothers
Taxidermy. There I couldn’t get a license for my
rifle, just for my shotgun, and so could only hunt
game birds.
In 1966 I returned to Kenya, as chief taxidermist
at Zimmermann Ltd., and then my hunting
From top to bottom:
With Paul Bradley and our harvest in
Block 3 in northern Ewaso Ng‘iro.
My warthog from the Thego River,
shot in Block 78 at the bottom
edge of the mountain forest on
Mt. Kenya.
My son Ralf with a Beisa oryx, my
last game animal taken in Kenya.
My sons Ralf and Erik with
Rendille tribesmen south of
the Marsabit National Park.
66 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

eally began! Although I had passed the
German hunting exam in Kassel in 1958,
I went abroad in 1959 and had not hunted
the following five years. The game department’s
test for a hunting license was, especially
for me as a taxidermist, almost ridiculously
easy. However, the resident license
was initially restricted, so that you could
not hunt big game alone. An experienced
hunter - not necessarily a professional
hunter - had to accompany you. In order
to book a hunting block, one went to the
game department to make a reservation,
and an official checked whether the desired
block was free on the date requested.
The closest blocks to Nairobi were the
Maasai blocks southeast of the city, and
the first of those in the Rift Valley could
be reached in less than two hours. There,
in Block 59, west of Mount Suswa, I shot
a kongoni, my first game animal in Africa.
Mount Suswa, which is located in the
same block, was also the destination for
one of my first weekend safaris. It is an
extinct volcano, an imposing mountain
whose crater has a gap to the north. There
was a path in this canyon one could use to
drive into the crater with off-road vehicles.
So I set out with my VW Beetle, along
with my friend and colleague Mike, to
travel into the crater. My safari equipment
consisted of an old Mauser 8x60S with iron
sights and an octagonal barrel, a small pair
of binoculars, a sleeping bag, some water
tanks and a few pots. It had not rained for
months and we had planned to sleep in
the open. However when we got into the
crater in the late afternoon, the floodgates
opened and the rain would not stop. On
the way there from a distance we had noticed
a large cave, so we drove back to it.
There was a large entrance in the front, and
a bit further inside there were loads of bats
hanging from the ceiling. We found dry
wood, made a fire, ate something and lay
down on the dusty, rocky ground to sleep.
No sooner had we dozed off, when a lion
began to roar nearby, and from farther away
another answered. It wasn’t a particularly
comfortable night.
But of course the sun was shining the
next morning and we explored the crater.
On the plain there were Grant’s and
Thomson’s gazelles, and the rocky crater
terrain held klipspringer and mountain
reedbuck. I can not remember if we shot
anything that weekend, but the memory
of the night spent like stone-age people in
the cave, listening to lions roar, will never
be forgotten.
Modest Beginnings in
Heavenly Hunting Blocks
In my early days there, before I owned a
tent, the round huts at the Thego River
Fishing Camp were a popular destination
of our weekend trips. Three of my friends
Historical hunting map: Apart from the national parks,
Kenya was completely divided into hunting blocks.
were more interested in the trout in the
river, while I was attracted by the game on
the edge of the dry mountain forest. There
were waterbuck, bushbuck, Harvey’s red
duiker, suni, warthogs, bush pigs and the
big five. One Sunday morning I was out
hunting early, and had game in front of
me several times, but wasn’t able to shoot.
Around noon on the way back, I had solid
ammunition loaded because I expected
only to encounter red duiker or suni. Suddenly
I saw a warthog with a single sow in
his wake, trotting through the sparse trees.
I released the safety, shouldered my rifle,
followed the boar, and let fly. The keiler
67

Our camp in the
mountain forest in the
Aberdare Mountains.
rolled like a hare, the shot sat in the middle
of his neck. I was overjoyed! In retrospect,
it was of course very risky to shoot with
solid ammunition on the fleeting warthog,
but everything happened so fast. Not only
was it a lucky shot, it was also a trophy boar,
with 16 ½ inch tusks. It was the first boar
warthog that I had ever encountered face
to face in a hunting area. Never since have
I had a shot at a similar trophy.
One of my most successful safaris
was in July 1976 when I set up camp for
one week with my wife, our two children,
and another couple, the Bradleys, in the
northern Ewaso Ng’iro. Paul Bradley had
been an important civil service veterinarian
in the Department of Agriculture in
Washington. After his retirement, he and
his wife bought a house in the Bahamas,
but found it too hot there in the summer,
so they took a trip around the world and
ended up staying for some time in Kenya.
The tip that led us to this hunting area
came from my friend Bernd Strahl, who
was the head of an irrigation project there.
In order to get his equipment to the river,
he had to have a new road built into the
bush, and he told me of the untouched
wilderness.
Our camp was situated high above the
river, about ten kilometers away from his
project, under trees, and not far from a ford,
where the locals drove their cattle across
the river. We had a lot of fun together. Paul
and I hunted, each man for himself, on foot
from camp.
I managed to take an animal on each
of the first three mornings. The first was
my biggest impala, followed by a gerenuk
and then a small crocodile. On the fourth
morning I was trying for a lesser kudu,
which I had hunted unsuccessfully several
times in the past. Suddenly, I found myself
face to face not only with any kudu, but
THE kudu of all kudu! Up to that point,
Paul, who was having some health problems,
had taken a waterbuck. On the fifth
morning I guided him to a small kudu.
The evenings were marvelous. We sat
around the fire, drank whisky, told stories
and laughed a lot. Unfortunately, all the
meat that was hanging around camp in the
trees also attracted lions. At first we could
hear them roaring from afar, but then they
came ever closer. Paul tried, but couldn’t
get his tape recorder to work. Eventually
we managed to fall asleep that night. The
next morning we found lion tracks about
half a meter away from our sleeping tent!
My .458 Winchester Model 70 pre-1964,
which was stolen and then later recovered.
68 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

Our last safari in Kenya took place early in 1977 in the area
around South Horr, southeast of Lake Rudolf (Turkana). I was
with my friend Peter Evans, who was also with me on my first
elephant hunt. We pitched our tents on a river coming down from
the Nyiru Range, and hunted for oryx, gerenuk, lesser kudu and
Grant’s gazelle. The Nyiru Range is fantastic, with a high mountain
forest where buffalo and giant forest hogs could be found, and
on whose slopes I had already hunted large kudu - unfortunately
unsuccessfully.
At the foothills of the Nyiru Range we met a group of Turkana,
with whom we communicated in Kiswahili, with some
difficulty. I asked whether there were still elephant in these
mountains. “Hakuna moja!” was the answer - “Not one!” The
big mature bulls had been poached by Europeans and Indians,
and were often flown directly out of Djibouti. Then the Somalis
arrived, and the last elephants were hunted by the Turkana with
spears. Even for small tusks one got a few blankets or pots.
After the safari we drove through the Chalbi Desert and
through Marsabit back to Nairobi. Due to heavy rains in the
mountains, much of the desert was flooded and we helped a
stuck Landrover out of the mud. In Marsabit, a small town
in sparsely populated northern Kenya, we had to procure
antibiotics because my wife had a case of blood poisoning. I
really wanted to camp at Lake Paradise in the Marsabit National
Park, but we couldn’t find a good campsite. So we camped
south of there on the tribal area of the Rendille. One of their
warriors watched our two boys as they threw rocks at a snake.
The warrior killed the reptile with his spear and brought it to
us as evidence. Late in the afternoon we were able to witness a
total solar eclipse. Everything was pitch dark and the Rendille
were very scared.
Upon our return to Nairobi, we found that our house had
been broken into. Our garden worker, who had been sleeping in
the house, was seriously injured and was hospitalized. The gun
cabinet was broken open, valuables and two guns were stolen, my
.458 and my old 8x60S.
All this made it easier for us to say goodbye to Kenya. I had
already agreed with Zimmermann’s two years earlier that I would
depart at the beginning of 1977. My contract however was extended
by three months, in order to complete a whole elephant
mount for the National Museum in Manila in the Philippines.
May 15 was my last day at work, and on May 19 hunting in Kenya
became illegal for visiting hunters.
•
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69

Mexico: Coues Deer
Sonora’s
Treasure
Night grudgingly surrendered its dark kingdom
to early dawn’s ashen light. Miraculously, threatening
tall long-armed monsters slowly morphed
into thorn bushes and saguaro cactus. I hunkered a
bit deeper into the warmth of my wool parka, then
raised my binoculars and started glassing.
I marveled as the desert started coming to life.

Text and Photos: Larry L. Weishuhn
The high deserts of Sonora, Mexico
have long tempted me to search for
her many treasures. Proudly, I have occasionally
yielded to those temptations. After
all, the “barren lands of the far Southwest”
are home to wide and massive antlered desert
mule deer, majestic and breathtaking
desert bighorn sheep and diminutive desert
whitetail, the Coues.
Regardless whether you pronounce it
‘Kooos’ or ‘Cows’ the way Elliot Coues,
who first described these whitetails, pronounced
his name, these are a truly special
and unique subspecies of whitetail deer.
I have heard them described many ways,
most times not reverently, anything from
the “poor man’s desert bighorn” to a string
of cuss words, particularly after they had
made a fool of a hunter or guide by slipping
away unseen and unscathed. To me
the “gray ghost of the desert” is the best of
whitetail deer and whitetail deer hunting.
Coues are a smaller race when compared
to their northern brethren. Not only
do they differ in size, a mature buck might
not weigh a hundred pounds, but also in
habits. Unlike regular whitetail that hold
their tail perpendicular to their back when
‘waving goodbye’, Coues position their
tail parallel to their back when doing
so. When it comes to antlers, a really
good Coues rack starts at eight points,
with about twelve to fourteen inches of
spread, about the same beam length and
a nice tine length and mass. Good northern
yearling whitetail bucks quite often
have better racks than do record book
Coues. If high-scoring racks are your
thing, keep hunting northern whitetails.
Don’t even consider hunting the Arizona
whitetails! But, if you’re looking for the
supreme challenge when it comes to hunting
whitetails, go chase Coues deer in the
desert mountains of Sonora, or possibly in
southern New Mexico and Arizona.

The high desert mountains of Sonora,
Mexico tend to be extremely rugged and
are home to both desert bighorn sheep
and Coues whitetail.
I love hunting Coues deer, especially
in Sonora. My longtime friend and fellow
wildlife biologist, Ariel Trevino, has
helped me set up several hunts in Mexico’s
northwestern-most state. Ariel and the biologists
who work with him conduct game
surveys throughout much of Mexico, and
then recommend harvest rates and habitat
improvements.
Ariel was familiar with ranches just east
of Port Libertad on the Sea of Cortez. “I
know of a ranch that has some huge Coues
deer. I think I can get you on it if you’re
interested,” said Ariel while we visited by
phone. I was indeed interested!
Because of my rather hectic travel
schedule filming episodes for my Dallas
Safari Club’s Trailing the Hunter’s Moon
television show on the Sportsman Channel,
we decided to set up my hunt in mid-December.
I knew this was well ahead of the
Coues rut, which in western Sonora usually
occurs in late January. But with a bit of luck
perhaps I could find a good buck.
Prior to heading to Mexico I made certain
my .30-06 Ruger American Rifle was
properly sighted in with 130-grain Hornady
American Whitetail ammo. Knowing
shots could potentially be extremely long,
I topped my Ruger with a Zeiss Conquest
variable, with adjustable external turrets.
Preparing for the hunt, I spent several
hours at the FTW Ranch to learn exactly
where my bullets struck a target at ranges
out to 1,000 yards. That said, when hunting
I am not a proponent of long-range shooting.
To me hunting means trying to get as
close as humanly possible before pulling
the trigger. However, in some instances one
simply cannot get closer, so it is important
to know the long-range capabilities of your
rifle/ammo/scope combination and your
abilities with it.
After considerable practice hitting
targets at long ranges from a solid prone
position, I felt confident taking a shot
out to 800 yards or more. In addition to
shooting long-range targets, I also spent
time learning how to ‘read the wind’. In
making long-range shots it is paramount
to consider wind drift. Even a slight cross
or angling wind can have tremendous influence
on a bullet at long range.
My late summer and fall had been busy
with hunts abroad and some not that far
from home. I loved every moment, but I
kept thinking about Coues. Finally, it was
time to head to Sonora! My trip from Texas
via Phoenix, Arizona to Hermosillo, Sonora
was uneventful. After clearing Mexican
customs and procuring my pre-arranged
gun permit, thanks to the efforts
of my outfitter, I was met by the outfitter’s
representative. A short time later we were
headed to camp. We arrived at dusk.
After arranging my gear in the most
comfortable camp I had ever been in here
in Mexico, I stepped outside and immediately
spotted two Coues deer in the front
yard drinking water. Things were looking
good! Shortly after sundown Sonora Dark
Horn Adventure’s owner Raul Cordova
and his then chief guide Chapo Juvera arrived.
After quick introductions we talked
Coues deer strategy over a most delicious
supper. My Spanish leaves much to be desired.
Thankfully both Raul and Chapo,
who live in Arizona, speak English.
Chapo outlined our plan. “We’ll start
in the morning on the other side of the
ridge just northeast of camp near a remote
waterhole. Last week I saw a big four-byfour
there. We’ll crawl to the top of a narrow
ridge where we can scan a couple of
canyons and ridges as well. I know you’re
looking for mule deer once you take your
Coues. We have four huge ranches we can
hunt from this camp. They produce several
huge mule deer each year. But as you
know mule deer live on the desert floor
and Coues live from the foothills to the top
of the ridges with desert bighorn. While
hunting Coues we probably will not see
72 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

Sonora Coues whitetail habitat is arid,
rugged, and rough!
many mule deer.” After finishing supper,
Chapo told tales of past hunts for whitetail,
mule deer and desert bighorn. He concluded
with “Get some sleep! It will be a
long day tomorrow. We’ll hunt all day. I’ll
be here before five. Sleep well.”
I did not sleep much or well. I was simply
too excited. I was awake when my alarm
went off at 4:15 am. After a quick delicious
breakfast, a bumpy truck drive and a
short walk in the dark up a steep ridge, we
settled on comfortable rocks and waited.
It was still too dark to discern more than
mere shapes. As the near-black turned to
gray light, eventually some of those shapes
turned into six Coues does and four fawns
on a distant ridge.
The deer were peacefully feeding. Suddenly
they raised their heads, ears erect and
looked hard to our right. Then they were
running, fast. Chapo and I looked at each
other wondering what might be going on.
We knew they had not spooked from anything
we had done.
When they spooked we heard rocks
rolling about 125 yards below us. From a
thorn bush a buck erupted, a massive fourby-four
with main beams well outside the
ears, and tines considerably longer than his
ears. I glanced at my cameraman Derek
Harris. He wagged his head in a negative
manner and whispered, “Too dark for the
camera!” We watched the buck disappear
into the next canyon. He reappeared momentarily
about 500 yards away, then again
disappeared. Something had badly spooked
pretty much everything in the canyon.
After glassing a bit more we moved
about 400 yards to our left where we could
see another canyon, and glassed from there
for another hour. During our vigil we spotted
several more does, fawns and two small
yearling bucks. We also spotted two desert
bighorn ewes just below where we had seen
the higher-most Coues whitetails. As we
were leaving Chapo and I were still wondering
what had caused the deer to hightail
it out of the area. One speculation led to another.
We dropped into the canyon. On the
canyon floor we found the evidence, a cougar.
Tracks explained everything. Obviously
we were not the only hunters in the area.
Walking back to where we had left our
vehicle, we spotted three bucks and three
does headed to a waterhole. Two of the
bucks were handsome, but young. Both had
four-by-four racks. Interesting, but not
what I was looking for. I had told Chapo
the night before I really wanted to take a
big, mature buck. If we didn’t find one, I’d
be back later in the season via an arrangement
I had made with the outfitter.
Heading to another area Chapo wanted
to hunt we stopped and then walked a halfmile
to glass another waterhole. Surrounding
the water were eight does and a young
five-by-five buck. We watched for twenty
minutes hoping more might come to water.
None did!
During mid-day we crawled up on
a ridge that afforded visibility of distant
hillsides. While Chapo glassed I decided
to explore a cave I had seen just below us.
I dropped down and immediately found
pottery shards as I suspected I would. A
couple of minutes later I found a couple
of broken arrow points and a broken spear
point. After inspecting them I put them
73

Top: While hunting Coues deer in Mexico much
time is spent carefully glassing distant hillsides.
Middle: A nice buck near a waterhole.
back exactly where I had found them. No
doubt the ridge had been a campsite long
ago.
Glassing gave me time to reflect. I have
long been infatuated with Coues whitetail.
I was introduced to them through
the writings of the late Jack O’Connor,
the long-time shooting/hunting editor of
Outdoor Life back in the middle part of
the 1900’s. Growing up in rural Texas, I
loved reading his tales of pursuing what he
often described as the smartest big game
animal in the world. His stories about wily
and wary Coues deer had instilled in me
a burning desire to someday hunt them. I
had first hunted them years ago in western
Chihuahua, then later in Sonora and also
in southwestern New Mexico.
The second night in camp while visiting
with the older vaqueros on the ranch,
they told me their fathers had hunted cola
blanca in the mountains and rincons of this
ranch years ago with a very famous hunter
who had written about those exploits in
magazines and books. When I asked his
name they told me their fathers had called
him “Oh Connorrrrr”. I was even more
thrilled about where I was hunting!
Late afternoon we drove just inland
from the Sea of Cortez. While glassing I
could turn to the west and see the sea! We
74 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

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75

76 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

Above: Larry‘s cameraman Derek
Harris carries the huge Coues whitetail
down to the closest road.
Top left: Coues deer in Devil’s Walking
Cane... Buck or Doe?
Bottom left: Larry Weishuhn and his
guide Chapo Juvera are both thrilled with
this mature buck.
soon spotted four Coues bucks. Three looked good and the fourth
was truly intriguing. He had ten massive, tall points. His beams
spread outside his ears.
Score is unimportant to me, but I had hoped this hunt might
be my opportunity to take a record book whitetail! And, this might
have been the right one, but two factors got in the way. The sun
was almost gone for the day and the bucks were well over a mile
away. Perhaps another time! The next three days were almost exact
replays of the earlier ones; big bucks seen too early for camera
light, and bucks seen too far away just before dark. Chapo, too,
pulled me off of a couple of bucks, that he described as “good,
but not yet great.”
After a morning of spotting some nice bucks we decided to
head back to camp to replenish our water supply. As we drove we
spotted three distant bucks. We stopped for a better look. Two
appeared to be really good four-by-fours. We set up our Zeiss
spotting scopes and were thinking seriously about making the long
arduous stalk. Chapo walked a few yards to my right and started
glassing. No sooner had he done so, when I heard him excitedly
say, “Larry you need to look at this buck!” I did. One quick look
was enough. He was huge, ten long massive points and a spread
outside of his ears. The Coues buck-of-my-dreams!
We forgot about the other bucks and immediately started
looking for ways to cut the distance. A narrow draw would allow
us to subtract some yardage, but not much. We started our stalk
but soon ran out of cover taller than our ankles. “Seven hundred
and eighty-four yards!” said Chapo when he ranged the buck. He
questioningly glanced at me. “This is going to be as close as we’ll
be able to get. Can you take him from here?”
Normally I always try to get within 200 yards or less before
taking a shot, but there was no way to get closer. No doubt this
was easily a record book buck. He was the Coues buck I had
been looking for and dreaming about for years, the biggest I had
ever seen! I looked at Derek Harris my cameraman. He said, “He
looks small in the viewfinder but I’ve got him. Would love to get
closer, but I can see there is no way! If you think you can hit him
from here, I say go for it!” That was exactly what I wanted to hear.
I had spent many hours at the FTW Ranch shooting with the
exact combination of Ruger, Zeiss and Hornady I was using. I
had shot tight groups at that range and beyond on their SAAM
course. I also had a range card built for me by Tim Fallon that
told me the number of inches and clicks to compensate using my
adjustable turrets. I made the adjustment for 800 yards. Then I
got into a prone shooting position using my pack as a rest. What
little breeze there was, was moving directly into my face. I settled
in behind my rifle. I took several deep breaths, said a prayer, and
when I exhaled totally, I gently applied pressure to the trigger
with my index finger. Immediately after the shot came Chapo’s
evaluation, “Just barely to the right of his neck and just above his
back. He’s still in the same place, shoot again. Hold a little lower.”
I bolted in a fresh round.
I made a slight adjustment in my hold. Then, totally exhaled
again, and gently pulled the trigger. I watched the bullet’s vapor
trail through my scope and I saw the bullet hit my buck. He
dropped where he stood. Even so I bolted in another round and
waited for any movement.
It was then that I realized Ariel Trevino was at my side. “You
got him! You’re gonna like him even better when you get closer
and put your hands on him!” he said.
“Great shot!” said Chapo. I kept my crosshairs trained on the
buck, but also took the opportunity to locate specific landmarks
around my downed deer. Then I stood to accept congratulations.
Finally at his side, I could not believe how big my buck’s antlers
were. He did have ten, long massive points but also two kickers,
one on either side close to the brow tines. I am not a ‘book’
hunter but I do appreciate big-racked animals. For his species this
buck was one of those special deer. For many, many years I had
dreamed of taking a truly big, impressive Coues whitetail. Now
I had done it.
I dearly love hunting Coues deer, one of the supreme hunting
challenges in North America!
•
77

Tanzania: Crocodile
Mamba Babu:
Text and Photos: Hans Georg Schabel
That yellow plastic ribbon, with a material value of not
more than a nickel, could have hardly pleased me more,
even if it had been made of pure gold. It was inscribed
with the magic code 8700596 TZ NIL. This was a CITES tag,
my ticket to a Nile crocodile.

It was 1985, the first time in more than
ten years that it would again be legal
to hunt pebble-worms in Tanzania.
For about a decade these prehistoric
creatures had been under full protection
by the Convention on International Trade
in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and
Flora (CITES). Previously subject to relentless
persecution, in a matter of years these
fearsome reptiles had explosively surged back
from the brink of extinction. When rural inhabitants
had increasingly lamented the loss
of human kin and livestock due to crocodile
predation, and fishermen complained about
nets being messed up and plummeting fish
populations, the Serengeti Research Institute
was commissioned to conduct a countrywide
aerial census. Based on the results, Tanzania
was granted a first set of 2,500 tags for Nile
crocodile. As a single female can have up to
1,000 offspring in her lifetime, this off-take
would not jeopardize the recent recovery.
Most of the tags were issued to commercial
crocodile hunters, and a few ended up in the
hands of lucky trophy and adventure hunters
such as myself.
Hatching a Plan
Knowing full well that this was a windfall, a
once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, I decided to
take my time to find an exceptional specimen
to hunt. After years of protection, there had
to be a few brobdingnagian pebble-worms
lurking in the swamps. I just had to figure
out how to go about hunting them and find
a good one.
None of my colleagues at the Sokoine
University of Agriculture in Morogoro, where
I taught forestry and wildlife management,
had any experience with the armored lizards,
and our library was not a rich source of
relevant information either. However, I did
find a copy of My Enemy the Crocodile – The
Strange Story of Africa’s Deadliest Business. This
book by Paul L. Potous, a former commercial
crocodile hunter, gave enough perspective to
develop a plan of action. The two most productive
methods employed by Potous did not
appeal to me, i.e., fishing with baited shark
hooks, or using lights at night to spotlight
animals either in the water or attracted to
dead or live bait placed on land. That only left
trying to stalk these shy and smart animals
while they were basking on shore or floating
in the water. In either case, stealth and precision
shooting at the small brain about the size
of an oval tennis ball, or at the spine at the
The Ruaha River later in the dry season. This is the
river that Ruark described as “maggoty with crocs”.
base of the skull, were imperative. To pinpoint
the location of that ‘tennis ball’, I studied the
crocodile skulls in our zoological collection.
As the six-month hunting season opened
in July, the flood plains along rivers like the
Wami, Ngerengere, Ruvu, Mwuha and Mgeta,
not far from home, were still mired in
muck. As soon as they dried out, vehicle access
to the hunting grounds became possible.
This was an exciting time of year, as wildlife
tended to gravitate from the scorched savannas
towards the rivers and adjacent gallery
forests, where their needs for food, cover and
water could be met. As a result, while scouting
for crocodile I also had a chance to bump
into other game. I did indeed bag a waterbuck
and triumphed with a first-in-three-years
bushbuck, but the crocodile did not pan out
as anticipated. The closest I got to one was a
young ‘lizard’ that had been burned to a crisp
black in a bushfire, a seemingly ironic fate for
a largely water-based creature that symbolizes
hell. During further explorations several extremely
wary, modest-sized crocodile quietly
slipped or noisily splashed into the water, the
second that they heard the crunch of dry-season
leaf litter, caught movement behind the
screen of vegetation or were wakened by the
alarm cries of their avian associates. At the
time I did not fully appreciate this animal’s
uniformly acute senses, including their phenomenal
sense of smell. After several fruitless
weeks, and with only two more months of
hunting season left to find a big one, it was
time for plan B. No more diddle-daddle with
juvenile crocs in so-so rivers.
To Maggoty Waters
After having watched behemoth pebble-worms
during a visit in the Ruaha National
Park, I knew what I wanted and where
to go. Reasoning that some of these giants
were likely to follow the Ruaha River upstream
beyond the legal boundaries of the
park into the neighboring Usangu Plains, that
seemed like a promising place to explore. According
to Robert Ruark in his book Horn
of the Hunter, the Ruaha River was “maggoty
with crocs”. Giddy with anticipation,
I couldn’t wait to get to know this remote,
hard-to-reach and at the time still wild valley.
Loaded with food and camp equipment
for a one-week safari, seven jerry cans and
a barrel full of gasoline, my long-trusted
Mauser Model 77 in 7x64 caliber, and due
to my optimism, a fifty-pound bag of salt,
my Toyota Land Rover was finally ready to
burn rubber. My companion was Michael
Mlelwa, proud member and self-confessed
former elephant poacher (he didn’t see it that
way) of the Wahehe Tribe. The two of us had
spent much time together in the bush, in the
course of which I had greatly benefited from
his bush savvy. At Iringa, the Hehe capital,
we picked up game warden Mwanga, a tribal
79

other, who would serve as our pilot and
guide. As the three of us, hunters at heart
and in practice, wended our way through
trackless Usangu savanna and bush towards
the Ruaha River, I couldn’t help think about
how well we all got along. Less than a century
before, in the then German East Africa
(GEA), the Wahehe, considered a “tough,
tenacious, suspicious and brave” warrior and
hunting tribe, had been mortal enemies of
the German invaders. At the time, their chief
Mkwawa, the ‘conqueror of many lands’, inflicted
a decisive and embarrassing defeat on
a battalion of much better equipped colonial
forces. He continued to harass them through
years of guerilla warfare, before being cornered
and committing suicide, rather than
allowing himself to be captured. His skull
ended up in a museum in Germany, only to
be returned decades later to Tanzania, where
he is now a national hero.
Towards the end of the dry season, the
extensive mud pans of the Usangu Plains
posed no obstacles, except that the going
was anything but easy or smooth over the
mounds and cracks of the pernicious ‘black
cotton’ soils, known to scientists as gilgai, and
to Texans as gumbo. Everything loosely attached
to the outside of the vehicle fell off,
including the tailpipe. Towards evening and
near the river, the bush started stirring with
life, as we encountered buffalo, topi, impala,
warthog, Southern Grant’s gazelle and both
species of kudu, and even a rare roan bull,
which I unsuccessfully tried to stalk. Just before
dark and rattled to the core, we forded
the Ruaha River and pitched camp.
The following morning we proceeded
westward into the miombo forest, the home
of roan and sable. Hunting there for two days,
we failed to connect with either of these fabled
antelope. The burned woodlands were
too dry, the animals would only likely return
with the first rains, and there had been a recent
influx of Wasukuma people escaping
their eroded homeland. As a consolation
prize, we did however bump into a rare pangolin
busily digging for termites. Abandoning
our ambitions for Hippotragus antelope, we
shot a topi before returning to the Ruaha in
pursuit of our main objective, to find a mighty
pebble-worm.
The Peekaboo Godzilla
We arrived at the river about 3:00 pm and
soon the tent stood under the umbrella of
the broad-crowned Brachystegias at the edge
of the forest. From there we commanded a
splendid view of the remaining pools of the
much-shrunk river, where varied waterfowl
were busy being waterfowl. With several
daylight hours left and temperatures easing,
it was a great time of day to recce the
river, hopefully to locate a candidate croc at
his haul-out, for a stalk or ambush the next
morning.
Barely twenty minutes into the walk,
around a curve in the river, a large, dark object
at about two hundred meters caught our
attention. Was this a solitary hippo bull? No,
those have ears. A rock? No, those don’t move.
Then this HAD to be a crocodile, and a big
one at that. Sure enough, as we got closer
the binocs revealed the binary, flat facial profile
of a pebble-worm, with nostril bumps at
one end and a prominent eye ridge with two
‘horns’ at the other. I estimated the head to
be about two-thirds of a meter long, which,
if multiplied by seven, would translate to a
total body length of over four meters. Bingo,
this was the kind of Godzilla of my dreams.
Since females never reach this size, it could
only be a bull.
At our approach the skull sank into the
murky waters with barely a ripple, and we
proceeded to explore farther downriver.
Although not quite maggoty, there was
no shortage of crocs, but none anywhere
near the size of Godzilla. After having seen
This is the only black and white
picture taken before my camera
died. It shows my perhaps
three-quarters of a ton crocodile
being pulled out of the Ruaha
River with a rope.
80 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

enough, we turned around, mulling a plan
for the next morning’s hour of truth. Not
surprisingly, the big head was again floating
exactly where we had last seen it in the shallows
across from a steep bank in the river.
It now occurred to me that I could at least
try a rehearsal stalk, if not actually go for ‘it’
right then and there. Why wait until morning?
Our friend played along as scripted. As
soon as we entered his flight zone he again
peekabooed us. Now you see me, now you
don’t. I instructed my two companions to
keep walking, while I dropped low into an
intervening depression that allowed me to
sneak up to the river undetected. Shortly
after I had settled into a comfortable, prone
shooting position on a high point on the
bank, Godzilla emerged like a cork. His
head, at no more than fifty meters near
the papyrus fringe, faced away at an angle,
while he dispassionately watched my
Wahehe warriors moving off. I thus had
ample time to calm my adrenaline spike
and concentrate on what would absolutely
need to be a perfect first shot at a very small
target. The conditions were most favorable.
If I stayed cool at such close distance, the
ballistic curve and line of sight would be
right on target, and the soft-nosed bullet
penetrating at an angle from above, was
likely to do sufficient damage to anchor the
croc. While Godzilla was still pondering
the mathematical mystery of three versus
two, I aimed between his ‘horns’, activated
the hair trigger, breathed out and gently
touched off.
At the shot, clouds of waterfowl rose
from the reeds in indignant flight to disperse
in wild panic, while the water boiled with
green foam as the saurian thrashed in wild
gyrations and lashed his powerful tail, flashing
a white underbelly. After the waves subsided,
only a long-clawed, webbed crocodilian
paw stuck out eerily from the smooth
surface. Soon my Wahehe showed up and
confirmed what I already knew, i.e., that this
was a ‘mamba kufa sana’, a very dead crocodile,
and from their perspective undoubtedly
the only good kind of croc. While the
animal’s fierce flailing had signified a brain
shot, the paw assured us that the body would
not sink any deeper. With the inner waves
of my emotions still roiling with nervous
energy, I took a deep breath while feeling
kinship with my namesake Saint George,
the dragon slayer. This once-in-a-lifetime
drama had indeed the flair of a rare event
from the distant past.
Drums in the Night
Now, how to retrieve that monster from
across the river? Ndugu Mwanga knew of
a seasonal camp of Wakinga fishermen not
too far upriver, and offered to summon help.
Staying behind, I still tried to calm my nerves,
by taking in the warm evening light as it
magically suffused this wild setting. Before
long, the first impala gingerly stepped out
of the shadows of the forest to slowly make
their way to the water. When my companions
didn’t show up, I decided to retreat before
the big predators took to the stage to turn
this temporary idyll into a customary African
night of horrors.
Back at camp I found my Wahehe with
two Wakinga fishermen. While Michael prepared
topi filets, his newfound friends were
puffing self-turned cigarettes. One of them,
who I would later dub ‘Crocodile Dandy’,
strummed a homemade mini-guitar. They explained
their no-show by saying it had gotten
too late to do anything about the croc, but
that it would be taken care of ‘mapema’, first
thing in the morning. As the evening wore
on, two of Africa’s most authentic sounds
competed in unique harmony. From downriver,
the deep, guttural roars of distant lion
proclaimed their dominance on the top of the
This is a copy from a Polaroid, the only color
picture I took of my Usangu croc, showing its
full length and impressive girth.
terrestrial food chain, while in the opposite
direction the animated drumming of a ngoma
(dance) pulsed through the hot, heavy and
sticky night. While this magnetic, soothing
throb of tribal Africa, this exuberant expression
of pure joie de vivre, had on many occasions
hastened my sleep, tonight it did not
help. I was still too wound up from all the
excitement, and worried that my prize could
be cannibalized or spoiled in the warm soup
of the Ruaha.
Approaching the crime scene in the
morning, that sinister paw still reached above
the smooth waters. What a relief! I now expected
the Wakinga to find a dugout hidden
somewhere in the papyrus. Instead they swam
across the river, then waded chest-high in
shallower water. Reaching the grisly paw,
Crocodile Dandy tied a heavy rope around
it while loudly declaring that it belonged to
a mamba babu, a crocodilian grandfather.
Pulling the animal behind them, they returned,
but needed the help of the rest of
us to haul the behemoth up the steep shore.
With a length of 4.12 meters, this was indeed
a monster pebble-worm, and seemed even
more so since some bloating magnified his
enormous girth.
During the retrieval I stood, gun at the
ready, to watch for potential trouble from
81

A big croc basking in the sun.
A massive pebble-worm of the Victoria Nile just below
Kabalega Falls in Uganda, where crocs have always been
abundant due to rich fish stocks. When fishing there, we
had to relocate to another site, as the crocs were going
after our baits.
82 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

other crocs attracted by the commotion. The
Wakinga later explained that this was not
necessary, pointing to scars on their inner
thighs, from incisions made in childhood
and treated with dawa, i.e., certain protective
plant extracts. They even insisted that this
mumbo-jumbo was not only good to ward
off croc attacks, but also those from other
predators. I could only shake my head at their
blissful faith and wish them good luck and a
happy, long life full of fish and illusions! In
other parts of Africa the belief that man-eating
crocodiles are transmogrified spirits who
only target those few hapless souls cursed
with a well-deserved spell, persists to this day.
Unfortunately, after the first photo was
taken, my ageing camera gave up the spirit,
perhaps due to the heat and humidity, if not
some tropical disease. I always carried a Polaroid
as a backup, which, by promising an
instant picture as a gift, was often useful in
coaxing photo-shy tribe members to stand
for a portrait. Fortunately, after having taken
too many pictures of the Wasukuma a few
days earlier, my Polaroid did have one photo
left, just enough to document my croc in all
its glory, albeit with less than today’s digitial
clarity. Skinning the animal by slowly separating
the thick scales on the back and tail
from the bony plates underneath, then using
up all of the salt to pickle the hide, took hours.
When checking the stomach contents,
we found the intact hooves of a middle-sized
antelope and several pounds of gastroliths
embedded in the acrid, hairy soup, acidic
enough to burn unprotected skin. These
gizzard stones, standard equipment for dinosaurs,
supposedly help in digestion and/
or buoyancy. The thought occurred to me
that the ancient Greeks may have used the
term pebble-worm with respect to these
stones, but literature seems more inclined
to implicate the crocs’ habit of basking on
pebbly shores.
As the heat picked up, the brooding silence
was only broken by an occasional squabble
from waterfowl and the buzz of metallic flies,
those mini-vultures attracted to blood and
gore. All the while avian scavengers silently
rode morning thermals above, or perched on
nearby snags to wait their turn. Before long,
the smell of blood would probably also attract
pebble-worms to play their unsavory, ancient
role as cannibals. That would not even leave
bones for the hyenas.
In the wilds of the Usangu Plains, the
days of mamba babu were over, but life would
go on as it has since time immemorial. •
While crocodiles take hundreds of people each year in various parts of Africa, not all populations
of this reptile seem to be dangerous to man. In this picture fishermen stand chest-deep in
water at Lake Chamo. Crocodiles in other lakes, such as Lake Turkana, Lake Rukwa and Lake
Chad are also considered relatively safe, probably attributable to healthy fish stocks there.
The skull of a crocodile from the Omo River
in Ethiopia. Estimated at 0.6 meters long,
multiplying by seven would give the total
length of the animal at about 4.2 meters.
This skull is thus comparable to the one I
shot on the Ruaha in Tanzania.
83

Hunting Pebble-worms in Eastern Africa:
The Early Years
Pebble-worm is the original translation
from Greek of the word crocodile, the
planet’s most successful freshwater
predator. In ancient Egypt these animals were
feared, deified as the crocodile-headed Sobek,
and frequently embalmed as mummies. There
was even a town in their honor, called Crocodilopolis.
In Eastern Africa, certain tribes like
the Waganda and Wadjidji also revered this
animal, while more utilitarian motives prevailed
elsewhere. For instance, the Mawia and
Wandamba considered the eggs and tail meat
a delicacy, while others, including Arabs in the
Sudan also valued the fat, oil, musk glands or
sex organs. These served as powdered dawa,
for folk medicine, supposedly to stimulate desire
and to induce fertility in women. Tribes
in the Rufiji/Ulanga/Nyasa areas of Tanzania
habitually made more sinister use of the highly
poisonous gall bladders, typically to reduce
longevity in rival men. For instance, near Ifakara
in the Kilombero Valley a chief and several
of his drinking buddies supposedly perished
within hours of imbibing a toxic concoction of
pombe laced with crocodile bile. On the other
hand, some people like the Zanzibari and
Ethiopian Christians, made no use of crocodile
meat or other products.
twentieth century certain waters were still
“full of crocodiles, hippopotami and secrets”.
However, this innate resilience was not to
carry on long into the modern age of firearms,
which ushered in the relentless persecution
of the feared and hated reptilians by hunters
and non-hunters alike. Without cushy feathers
or felt, these cold-blooded, robotic, armored
saurians with their toothy gape, steel-trap bite
packing 3,000 pounds of force, cold poker eyes,
their opportunist ambush nature and their scavenging
and cannibalistic tendencies did not stir
any sympathies. Not surprisingly, to call someone’s
mother a crocodile and someone’s father
a hyena came to be among the worst insults
one could bestow in East Africa.
While the hunting ordinances of 1910
gave most game in GEA a degree of protection,
crocodile were classified as pests and a
nuisance. The government offered bounties
of five rupees for a mature specimen, onefourth
rupee for a young one and ten hellers
for each egg. One cattle dealer at Lake Rukwa
collected 5,000 rupees in a single month, not
a shabby second income considering that at
the time fifteen rupees were worth twenty
German marks. However, this bounty system
apparently just made the crocs shier without
This croc is fast asleep, with is mouth agape and locked to prevent overheating.
Birds often share a symbiotic relationship with crocs, often picking leeches from
their hide or cleaning their teeth and acting as an alarm system. Wherever fish
or mammals are abundant, like here on the Victoria Nile in Uganda, birds are
only rarely taken as prey.
Persecution as a Pest
An animal that has remained essentially unchanged
for millions of years, obviously ranks
as a survival model of the first order. The
traditional hunting methods for crocodiles in
tribal Africa, of trapping them in nooses along
trails or harpooning them, were no match for
their extraordinary fecundity. By all accounts
in suitable wetland habitats, the four species
of crocodile in Africa were extraordinarily
abundant into the eighteenth century. As A.
Hauer, an army doctor in German East Africa
(GEA) lyrically put it, even as late as the early
84 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

significantly reducing their numbers. Colonial
officials and writers such as H. Fonck and his
colleague M. Weiss, both avid hunters, claim
to have killed 300 and 500 crocodiles respectively.
Even H. Paasche, a military officer of an
exceptionally sensitive disposition, also hated
crocodiles, and considered it honorable to
shoot them with lead-tipped bullets. Virtually
all other hunting writers in GEA, including W.
Bode, A. Heye and H. Besser participated in
this extermination campaign. Besser claims to
have shot one 7.6-meter-long specimen on the
Mbaka River, its skull measuring 1.4 meters, and
he once killed a man-eating croc near Kisaki
by baiting it with a live dog. When discussing
crocodile, these writers struggled to exhaust a
long battery of adjectives normally attached to
distastefulness, malice, crookedness, danger and
evil. To name a few, they considered crocodiles
to be “cold, cruel, dark, calculating, deadly, ugly,
relentless, deceptive, abominable, cunning, fearsome,
foul, malicious, sinister, insidious, clever,
deceitful, abhorrent, loathsome, secretive, scary,
cowardly, devilish, pitiless, unpredictable, abhorrent,
repugnant, sinister and disgusting”. Crocodile
were cast as some of the worst enemies
of humans, a “hideous blot upon creation” and
the embodiment of death itself. Even relatively
enlightened hunters such as C. G. Schillings, H.
von Wissmann and Uganda’s first game warden
C. Pitman, whose names are often connected
with wildlife conservation, took exception by
persecuting crocodiles whenever the opportunity
arose. For instance, Schillings once shot
fifteen off a hippo carcass before he ran out of
ammunition, and on another occasion he was
lucky that crocs did not turn the table, when his
dugout capsized on the Ruvu River, which was
swarming with the reptiles. Wissmann who had
lost fifteen of his askaris to crocs, and witnessed
fatal croc attacks on two occasions, claims to
have shot at 500. From the stomachs of several
he retrieved bangles, beads and anklets. He also
reported that a captain of the postal steamboat
named after his wife Hedwig, and featured in
the story behind the film, The African Queen,
fell prey to a crocodile in Lake Tanganyika. As
a result, he considered the killing of crocs, together
with snakes and other vermin meritorious.
Given this unrestrained hatred, whenever
Wissmann had bullets left over at the end of a
safari, he used them up by peppering any croc
he could find. While these killings took place
mostly in the context of other activities, in the
late 1940s a professional crocodile destruction
officer was specifically targeting crocodiles by
poisoning them with potassium cyanide, for the
sake of improving fisheries in Nyasaland.
Commercial Hunting
While these poisoned crocs were all wasted,
his successor P. Potous, a commercial crocodile
hunter, profitably marketed the hides. In the
1960s, P. Wessels, an official crocodile hunter
operated in the Selous Game Reserve in Tanzania,
specifically to generate income for the running
of the newly established reserve. At that
time, crocodile hides commanded 3.53 shillingi
per foot. However, the champion of crocodile
slayers was a certain Jack Bousfield, who by
killing 53,000, made it into the Guinness Book
of World Records. Of these, 30,000 were taken
from Lake Rukwa in Tanzania. In the 1960s, a
somewhat bizarre research project took place
on the shores of Lake Turkana in Northern
Kenya, which was self-funded by the sale of 500
hides from the very crocodile being researched,
supposedly to save the species. The research
zoologist in charge, Alistair Graham, and his
assistant, celebrity fashion photographer Peter
Beard later published a grisly, haunting and fascinating
book Eyelids of Morning, featuring this
chapter in bloody science. Included is a photo of
the remnants of a hapless Peace Corps volunteer
that had been retrieved from the stomach
of his reptilian killer. For tallying purposes, crocs
obtained by Graham and Beard were classified
One of the massive Nile crocodiles
of Lake Chamo in Ethiopia.
85

The backside of the
skull of a Nile crocodile
from the Omo River in
Ethiopia, showing the
location of the brain.
by length as lizards (1.5 – 2 m), good muggers
(2 – 2.5 m), bonus gators (2.5 – 3 m), magnums
(3-4 m) and rare monsters (over 4 m).
Protection, Restoration
and Sustainable Management
For a while during the commercial period, as
many as two million belly hides were trafficked
annually worldwide, generally for an upscale
market. Into the early 1970s it was, as National
Geographic put it, “a bad time to be a
crocodile”. Decades of relentless persecution,
first as a pest, then as a commercial target,
had brought them to the brink of extinction
worldwide. As a result in 1975 crocodile were
included in Appendix I, the highest category
of protection granted by the Convention on
International Trade in Endangered Species of
Wild Flora and Fauna (CITES). As the demand
for luxury crocodile leather persisted, and no
legal trade in wild-caught crocodile products
was now possible, crocodile ranches sprang
up in Tanzania and elsewhere. By 1985, this
crocodile husbandry program, together with
the protection of wild populations, finally
allowed a re-classification from Appendix I
to II in places such as Tanzania. In that first
year, commercial and sport hunters, including
myself, benefitted from the generous quota
of 2,500. Starting in 2000, the annual quota
was somewhat reduced to about 1,600. Most
of the contemporary sport hunting of an average
of eighty-four crocodile per year, now
takes place at two crocodile strongholds, in
the Selous Game Reserve and at Lake Rukwa.
Eventually the recovery in the wild rendered
crocodile ranching in Tanzania unprofitable,
and cropping took up the slack.
In retrospect, the Nile crocodile experienced
distinctive eras ranging from persecution
to management. The pre-colonial, tribal
off-take was probably modest, but with the
arrival of firearms, a period of mindless slaughter
and poisoning began, followed by one of
commercial but largely uncontrolled harvest.
This was followed by a decade of complete
protection and finally years where crocodile
ranches and quotas promoted the restoration
and sustainable use of populations. Between
250,000 to 500,000 strong, Nile crocodile, at
least for the time being, now seem to hold
their own in most parts of Eastern Africa. As
a matter of fact, with at least 1,000 human
casualties per year attributable to croc predation,
pebble-worms rank again as Africa’s most
prolific man-eaters, eclipsing human mortality
due to hippo, leopard, lion, hyena and elephant
together. Three other species of crocodile in
Africa remain under strict protection. Except
in a few places, it’s a better time now to be a
crocodile.
•
Literature
Bangs R. 1999.
The Lost River. A Memoir of Life, Death,
and Transformation on Wild Water.
Sierra Club Books, San Francisco. 266 p.
Graham A. and P. Beard. 1973.
Eyelids of Morning. The Mingled
Destinies of Crocodiles and Men.
Chronicle Books, San Francisco. 260 p.
Gore R. 1978.
A Bad Time to be a Crocodile.
National Geographic January: 90-115
Hippel E. von. 1946.
Stomach Contents of Crocodiles.
Uganda Journal 10/2: 148-149
Joergens W. and G.G. Rushby. 1944.
Crocodile Gall.
Tanganyika Notes and Records 18: 99-100
Potous P. L. 1957.
My Enemy the Crocodile – The Strange
Story of Africa’s Deadliest Business.
Wilfred Funk, Inc. N. Y. 214 p.
86 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

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87

PORTRAIT OF AN ARTIST
Hans-Peter Moser, owner of the Jägerschmuck studio, at work.
Right:
Deer rose with green Africa tourmaline, set in 585 yellow gold.
Deer rose with amethyst set in 585 yellow gold.

Exquisite Jewelry for Hunters
A Craftsman
With Heart and Soul
Hans-Peter Moser creates unmatched
masterpieces of jewelry that make a
hunter’s heart beat faster. Whether an
ornamental rifle-bolt handle, necklace,
cufflinks, hat pin or bracelet, his exclusive
and unique handmade pieces, made of
diverse materials, are individually
tailored to each individual client.
Text: Bernd Kamphuis | Photos: Mercredi

Cufflinks, 925 sterling silver,
boar head motif.
From left to right: Silver key chain on a warthog tusk, rings with wild boar spoor in various motifs:
blue with inlays of lapis lazuli, black with onyx inlay.
Ring with stag ivories of 925 sterling
silver in modern design.
90 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

PORTRAIT OF AN ARTIST
Stag antlers in 925 sterling silver
modeled after the original trophy.
Idar-Oberstein, the jewelry capital of Germany, is the home of Hans-Peter Moser
who was born there in 1959. His ancestors were active as gemcutters and goldsmiths
in this small town in the Rhineland-Palatinate. A passionate hunter, he
always knew that he would somehow continue the family tradition. As a skilled
gem-setter and owner of his own jewelry shop, he creates the whims of his clients. As
another ace up his sleeve, he provides creative input in the design of special jewelry
that revolves around active hunting and everything to do with it. With his affinity
for hunting, he is able to create special artworks from his client’s trophies. The area
where he hunts is within sight of his artist studio, and there he hunts roe deer, wild
boar and fallow deer.
Moser is expecting me when I arrive in the early afternoon at his
atelier. His workshop is bright and tidy, the room where he receives
clients is free of distractions, and the floor is of dark marble
giving it the air of timeless elegance. On the wall hangs a
large photograph of a Blaser R93, with the focus on a bolt
handle designed and manufactured by Moser. His bolt
handles, also available for the Blaser R8, are eye-catchers
of agate, flint, jasper, onyx, petrified wood or shiny blue lapis
lazuli. He uses a wide range of precious stones, and finishes them
with a fish scale or an oak leaf design, for anyone who wants to give his
rifle a unique touch. But he doesn’t only make rifle-bolt handles for Blaser’s flagship
rifles, he also creates unique side plates and pistol grip caps for all conventional guns,
and to client specifications.
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91

PORTRAIT OF AN ARTIST
Top: Tiger-eye bolt handle for Blaser
models R8 and R93. Cufflinks: Genuine,
professionally designed, exact replicas of
R8 bolt handles.
Middle: Brass Parforcehorn with genuine
leather binding.
Bottom: Bolt handles for R8 and R93 in
various versions.
Right: It takes many steps in the atelier to
create works of art.
92 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

93

PORTRAIT OF AN ARTIST
Cufflinks of
St. Hubert’s stag
on lapis lazuli.
Wheel of fox canines
with yellow gold flower
tips and a jewel center.
After a coffee, we go through the rooms where jewelry is
produced in all shapes and colors. On an old workbench on
velvet cloth are various works that are just beginning to emerge.
For example, there is a strongly curved lower boar tusk, which
is to receive a mount made of silver. Fox canines wait to be expertly
joined together in a circular fashion, to one day decorate a
hunter’s hat or jacket. I discover stag ivories that are destined to
become an ivory-bee, a fashionable accessory for many occasions.
Elephant hair, bear or lion claws, roe deer antler tips, pieces of
chamois horn, wild boar hooves, the heart cross of an ibex - everything
can become a lasting, and decorative memory. Whether
classic or modern in design, Moser converts clients’ ideas into
reality, or consults on the ideas that lead to the final masterpiece.
An interesting aspect of Moser’s work is the eclectic mix of
the many different materials he uses. Bone, horn, or ivory are
combined with precious metals and stones. Fine details adorn
many of these works, and Moser has mastered a range of skills
that allow his clients to let their fantasies run free. His detailed
works, such as earrings, show skillful craft: a boar spoor that
showcases diamonds catches my attention. On another set of
earrings there is a true-to-form set of dog tracks made of solid
yellow gold. There is a bracelet made of sterling silver and elephant
hair, artfully held together. Still other ear studs are in the
form of an abstract cornflower, which is stylized with sapphires.
It is a pleasure to look at the many and varied pieces to discover
all the possible combinations. Spontaneously I pick up a
silver miniature of stag antlers, which will eventually decorate
a hat. The successful hunter had an exact tiny replica made of
his stag-of-a-lifetime. The bases are finely worked, the animal’s
unique characteristics are obvious, and even the pearling is apparent
is this barely five-centimeter-tall piece. This small work
of art is heavy and feels valuable, as it rests for a few moments
in my hand. It is a wonderful creation that inspires me to honor
a special hunting experience in a similar fashion.
Various individual designs with
specified motifs from hunting
clubs and personal hunts.
Treasures From Around the World
At a man-sized cabinet, filled with precious stones from different
countries, we linger a little. Moser shows me raw gems
and stones from which he will later produce individual works.
Precious rose quartz from Namibia and various gemstones from
other areas in all colors and grades are stored here, some of which
were procured by his father many decades ago. He is an authority
on the origin and nature of all the stones and freely shares this
information. It is impossible not to notice his passion for the
various materials he incorporates in his work.
When we return to the workshop, he shows me a damascus
steel ring he created. In a long exhausting process, the metal
was folded, layer for layer, to create its unmistakable character.
“I am a craftsman with heart and soul,” he says. And that is the
foundation, on which his work is based. For art comes from
ability!
•
94 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

OUTSTANDING HUNTING EXPERIENCE
RIGHT IN THE HEART OF NAMIBIA
10.000 ha Big Property
Over 20 Huntable Species
Rifle & Bow Hunting
Hunting Training For Beginners
Fair Chase Hunt
No Inner Fences
Full Board
Accommodation
Hunting Guide, Tracker
Skinner & Car Included
Airport Transfer
Included
95

Paradise
Rusa in
Mauritius: Rusa Deer
Text: Selena Barr | Photos: Tweed Media

The demographic of hunters has changed considerably
over the past few decades. Once upon a time, there
were very few women who took part, and men traditionally
favoured adult-only, male-only hunting
trips. Times have changed, however. Not only is there a growing
number of female hunters, but the modern-day father’s attitude
has altered as well. As a result, an increasing number of young
families want to incorporate hunting into their annual vacation.
But here’s the rub: there are very few venues around the world that
are able to cater for the needs of a family wanting both wilderness
hunting and a luxury resort. So we are delighted to reveal that we
have uncovered one such place: Heritage Resorts in Mauritius has
formed a close working relationship with Le Chasseur Mauricien,
the island’s longest-established hunting outfitter.

98 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

In Mauritius, rusa are thriving
thanks to sustainable hunting.
The island is home to around forty
percent of the world’s population.
99

100 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016
Rusa in Mauritius are an
‘economical problem’, due
to the damage they can
cause to crops.

Part of the Small Luxury Hotels of
the World group, Heritage Resorts has
two neighbouring five-star hotels located
on the Domaine de Bel Ombre in the
wild southern part of Mauritius. The African-themed
Heritage Awali Golf & Spa
Resort is most suited to families, and the
colonial-themed Heritage Le Telfair Golf
& Spa Resort is geared towards couples
and gastronomes. When I visited with my
husband and eleven-month-old baby we
stayed at Heritage Le Telfair. Our stay was
in mid-June, so it was low season. The hotel
was far from full and the temperature was a
comfortable 26°C each day, plus there were
hardly any mosquitos. Rooms are equipped
with every baby amenity imaginable, including
sterilizer, changing mat and cot.
Plus there’s a free-of-charge kids’ club to
look after little ones so that parents can
enjoy some child-free hunting in the hills
directly behind the resort. Heritage Resorts’
purpose-built Timomo Kids’ Club is
run by highly trained nurses and can cater
for children up to eleven. I felt instantly at
ease leaving my baby with the hotel staff,
I never once worried about her when I was
out hunting all day.
The tiny tropical island boasts a variety
of quarry including majestic rusa deer, wild
boar and a range of exotic winged-game
species such as francolin. My primary focus
Lionel and Selena glass
the Frédérica Nature
Reserve for rusa.
was rusa. Sometimes known as ‘Java deer’,
rusa were introduced to Mauritius in 1639
by the island’s Dutch colonial governor to
provide meat. With no predators, they
adapted well. Today, the population is estimated
to number 60,000 mature animals.
However, in its native Indonesian homeland,
on the remote islands of Java, Bali and
Timor, rusa are classified as ‘vulnerable’ by
the International Union for Conservation
of Nature (IUCN). This is due to habitat
loss, habitat degradation and poaching. In
Mauritius, where this non-native species
is thriving thanks to sustainable hunting,
the island is home to around forty percent
of the world population. In fact, the
IUCN states that rusa in Mauritius are an
‘economical problem’, due to the damage
they can cause to valuable sugar cane crops.
For this reason the rusa, by law, must be
contained within fenced areas. Frenchman
Lionel Berthault has managed 4,000
hectares on the Frédérica Nature Reserve
since 2003 for Le Chasseur Mauricien. He
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101

explained the situation as follows: “One of
the most important Mauritian exports is
sugar, so the government made it mandatory
to contain the deer to stop them eating
and trampling the sugar cane, which covers
a third of the island. Hunters should not be
concerned by the fence, our hunting area is
vast and they will not encounter any wire.
The fence exists for the good of the herd,
the farmers and the island. It does not detract
from the overall hunting experience.”
Fourteen years ago he joined Nicolas
Chauveau, who has now been managing
the area for twenty-six years. Together
they have created a very slick, professional
outfitting business. To protect the herd
of 2,500 animals from poachers and stray
dogs, they employ eleven watchmen and
four gamekeepers. By tirelessly exhibiting
at hunting shows around the world,
Le Chasseur Mauricien has helped turn
Mauritius into a first-class hunting destination,
and they now welcome more than
a thousand hunters each year. A qualified
professional hunter, Lionel has hunted
almost every continent with his bow and
rifle. “I have experienced both good and
bad hunts, so I understand what is required
by hunters when they are visiting a foreign
country for the first time with their family
in tow. I get that spouses and children also
need to be catered for. Joining forces with
Heritage Resorts was a no-brainer. I don’t
know of any other hunting destination that
can offer visitors the same service.”
The Frédérica Nature Reserve Lodge is
located atop a hill that commands breathtaking
views of the Indian Ocean. All
around the lodge were grazing rusa, giving
us the impression the hunt might be easy.
How wrong we were! Before setting off, we
were served a simple – but utterly delicious
– lunch of pan-fried rusa and freshly baked
bread. Cooked the traditional Mauritian
way using soy and oyster sauce, the venison
was tender and tasty. The island has
a population of about one million people,
most of whom are Muslims, Christians or
Hindus. Some do not eat beef, and others
do not eat pork, but they all eat venison.
For me, hunting is about harvesting
organic wild meat – medal-class trophies
are never my sole goal. That said, Lionel
was keen that I cull an old gold medal stag
with thirty-four-inch antlers as part of his
management plan. Ideally he wanted an
animal aged at least eight years old that
had already passed on its good genes and
was now past its breeding best. Rusa antlers
are quite large in comparison with the
body size, and very distinctive with a typical
lyre shape. There is a brow tine, which
is often curved, and a terminal fork at the
end of the main beam. The thicker part
of the main beam continues on into the
back tine and this is normally considerably
larger than the front tine.
The resident population of rusa is not
perturbed by vehicles, but they are wily
and easily spooked around humans. We
drove along a dirt track for about forty-five
Top: The 4,000-hectare
Frédérica Nature Reserve has
a healthy population of rusa.
Top right: Selena and Lionel
stealthily approach a suitable
rusa stag.
Bottom right: The island
provides a tropical backdrop
for hunting.
102 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

103

104 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

minutes, which took us high up into the
mountains. With my nose permanently
pressed against the truck window, the views
back down to the ocean were incredible.
The island is teaming with wildlife, we
spotted numerous bizarre-looking flying
foxes, colourful parakeets, and playful longtailed
macaques. Lionel and I abandoned
the car and set off on foot in search of
our quarry. The plan was to hunt an area
around a derelict three-hundred-year-old
Top: Selena takes aim on the
rusa-of-a-lifetime.
Bottom left: Rusa can be a testing hunt
for even the most seasoned hunters.
Bottom right: After an eventful hunt,
Selena harvested this gold-medal rusa stag.
SCIConAdVert copy.pdf 1 8/10/16 11:51 AM
sugar cane processing plant. First off we
scanned the hunting ground from a high
seat, of which there are 250 in total. Then,
without warning, torrential rain started to
fall from the sky. We took shelter under a
low-lying palm, but just as quickly as the
rain started, it ended. Ten minutes later
the skies were back to a cloudless azure,
which encouraged the rusa to graze out in
the open. For four hours we stalked along
the forest edge, waded through swamps,
crossed rivers and negotiated dense jungle
until we eventually glassed a herd with
an appropriate stag. We saw many beasts,
stalked into a few, but they were never quite
right. In this herd there were twelve in total,
nine of which were grazing and three
were twitchy and on the lookout for danger.
They definitely could not see us as we were
hidden inside the dark, leafy forest. There
was no wind either, so they could not smell
us. We now needed to examine the herd
closely to ensure the stag in question would
meet the requirements of the management
plan. Suddenly, a pesky raven spotted us
and alerted the herd to our presence. The
deer instantly stopped feeding and became
jumpy, moving back inside the forest. My
heart sank. Lionel ushered me to move off
again. We walked quickly, hunched over,
trying to disguise our silhouettes. Lionel
whispered to me that he knew a shortcut
over another river so that we could make
up ground. I was already soaking wet and
covered in mud, so one more river would
not hurt. Once across, we scrambled up a
steep, muddy embankment to a vantage
point. Sure enough, the herd was below
us, just eighty metres away. Lionel directed
me onto a lone stag, which was facing us.
Lying prone, I used Lionel’s binoculars as
a makeshift bipod to support the forend of
my rifle. Two seconds later the stag turned
broadside. I gently squeezed off a round.
The rusa hunched its front shoulders before
running off – a classic double-lung
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105

Traditional Mauritian
Recipe for
Rusa Venison
Ingredients
· Diced rusa venison
· 1x chopped white onion
· 1x chopped red pepper
· Olive oil
· Lemon rind
· 1x tablespoon of cornflour
· Salt and pepper
· Soy sauce
· Oyster sauce
Method
Fry onion and pepper in wok in olive oil.
In small batches, place venison into wok and stir-fry
along with soy and oyster sauce.
Add cooked onion, pepper and lemon rind to cooked venison.
If sauce appears thin, add cornflour to thicken.
Serve with bread. Enjoy your meal.
106 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

eaction. Sure enough, we found the expired
beast just inside the forest. I felt
immensely proud at having harvested my
first rusa deer, and I felt pleased that I had
honoured the stag by shooting it cleanly.
Despite what the media may say about
sport hunting, I feel content that conscientious
hunters are the caretakers of this
vulnerable species, and I hope that they
continue to flourish here. It may be a bitter
pill for some to swallow, but hunting is a
fantastic bedfellow to conservation.
Two of the gamekeepers, Olivier Marot
and Xavier de Baritault, met us at the
purpose-built larder to butcher and process
the carcass. After helping as much as
I could, we then departed back to the hotel
to collect my daughter from the kids’ club.
The hunting ground is just a ten-minute
car ride away. What makes this offering
so unique is that the jungle-clad hills that
hold the game are just two miles from
the award-winning resorts and pristine
beaches. A quick shower and change, and
suddenly the three of us were in Annabella’s
enjoying local delicacies like palm heart
and venison gravlax, and recounting the
hunt step by step. What a day!
The next day we decided to relax and
enjoy the hotel facilities as a family. Our
deluxe room opened out onto an immaculate
beach with calm water, there was a
heated pool for the little one, and luxury
massages for my husband and I in the
couples’ suite at the Seven Colours Spa.
What more could an avid hunting family
want from a vacation?
A two-day hunt for a representative
rusa stag costs €5,500. This includes seven-nights
accommodation for two adults
and two children (under 12) at Heritage Le
Telfair Golf & Spa Resort on a half-board
basis, or at Heritage Awali Golf & Spa Resort
on a full-board basis. This also includes
trophy preparation, transfers, permit, rifle
hire, ammunition and a small game hunt.
For more information:
Visit www.heritage-resorts.com
or email Lionel Berthault via
lechasseur.mauricien@csbo.mu.
•
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• Sauer 202 Lux in .308
www.sauer.de
• Leica Visus 2.5-10x42 riflescope
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• Leica Ultravid 8x42 ‘Safari Edition’
binoculars
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• Hornady Precision Hunter
178-grain ammunition
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107

BRITISH COLUMBIA:
MOUNTAIN GOAT
MOUNTAIN
MONARCH
TEXT AND PHOTOS: CHRIS BERGMANN
The doors were slammed shut, headsets donned, and
a quick safety briefing was conducted as we taxied
across the water. A quick traffic advisory call was made,
“Local traffic, Cessna 206, Charlie Golf X-ray Poppa
Golf departing Tatoga Lake, west bound, climbing to
2,000 feet AGL, traffic please advise, Poppa Golf.”

Arrival
The mountains flowed past as I logged a couple of GPS points
from the pilot for possible pick-up locations, and for emergency
locaters for those worried at home. After quite some time our
long and skinny destination lake came in view, and we started
our descent into the deep valley. At that point, both my father
and I realized that we would have our work cut out for us for the
next two weeks.
It wasn’t long before we watched the small plane disappear in
the distance. The feeling of suddenly being alone in the wilderness
is uncanny, and impossible to accurately describe. After a couple
of quick high-fives, followed by dragging gear from the shore to
the treeline, we got to setting up our base camp.
With camp in place we turned our attention to glassing, with
the idea of establishing a hunting plan for the coming days. The
scene could have been a photograph from a National Geographic,
simply spectacular. We had a great vantage point from camp, down
into one of the forks of the valley to the west, south up a grassy
slope, and across the lake to the rocks on the other side. The entire
area held plenty of potential for mountain goat and sheep.
The short glassing session was followed by a quick lunch of
trout caught from the lake. We then turned our attention to caching
our food in the biggest tree nearby. By then it was later in the
The plane that dropped
the author off at the
remote hunting area.
110 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

afternoon and we took up glassing again. Any mountain hunter
worth his weight knows that optics can save you many miles of
hiking. Learning to use your binoculars and spotting scope effectively
is truly a skill. Our two-person team was similar to a sniper
and his scout, one was behind the spotting scope verifying what
the other was looking at in his binoculars. “Nope, white rock, nope,
shale outcropping, chunk of snow.” Having spotted no prey by
sunset, it was clear that we really did have our work cut out for us.
Father and Son
As old boys go, my dad is as true as they come. He loves to work,
eat, be merry, and he snores like a chainsaw without a muffler. So
while he was getting his restful few winks, my puffy jacket-pillow
was stuffed so far into my ears that I wouldn’t be surprised to find
feathers falling out of my ears from time to time.
“Coffee’s hot, let’s go,” is what I heard as I rolled out of the
supposedly two-person tent. “Breakfast choices are blueberries
with granola, or eggs and bacon.” That’s not much of a choice I
thought, as I imagined fake eggs and simulated bacon swimming
in hot water.
Over breakfast we decided to hike to the top of the pass and
glass from there. I had been taught always to be prepared for any
situation. Accordingly, my pack has never really lightened over
the years. This has led to the occasional bit of ribbing from my
hunting companions for always carrying a forty-five pound pack.
“Well, if you’re not going to be smart, you’re going to have to be
strong.” My reply is always the same, “If you need anything, just
let me know.”
The path to the pass was choked with underbrush and alder
thickets, that led to snaking our way slowly to the top. Thirsty,
sweaty, and ready for a midday nap we finally arrived. Warm
sunshine shining on the camo hat that covers your face, your head
propped up against your pack, and tripods producing little shadows
have a comforting effect, and lead to a restful snooze. The next
thing I heard was, “Hey. Wake up. Sheep!”
“What? Where? See any full curls?” While mountain goats
were the primary focus of this hunt, Dad also had a tag for both
a sheep and a grizzly. Talk about cashing in all your good karma
points on one hunt! “The upper-right basin, in the black rock,
about mile and a half away on the ridgeline, walking left to right. I
see a couple of ewes, some lambs, and maybe a couple of half-curls.
Nothing that looks like we should go running over to that ridge,”
Dad explained. “Let’s keep an eye on it though.” By midafternoon,
without any more sightings, we set the glass aside and focused our
attention on the incredible high-alpine blueberry patch we were
sitting in. We expended a lot of energy trying to get the few berries
that we consumed, but they tasted out of this world.
The slopes where mountain
goats live are steep indeed.
111

A single mountain goat
far above the treeline.
Glassing is a critical aspect of
any mountain goat hunt.
That night back at camp we shared stories while drinking
some of Pop’s ‘medicine’. Reaching the sage point in life leads to
the odd tale or two being told. However, if you can decipher the
informative nuances within the extraordinary ‘fish tales’, there is
usually a lesson to be learned. These shared lessons might save you
from some of the mistakes of yesteryear. As sons we all pick up
lessons from our fathers that prevail over time.
Beaver Tail
The strong medicine took away any pain we might have been
feeling from our long mountain hike. We stoked the fire one
last time, and made a run for bed, our rifles not far from reach
just in case.
Smack, slap bang, slap. “What the heck was that? You hear
that? Bear?” With our precious food cache at risk, we jumped
from the tent in full stride, doing our best Elmer Fudd imitation.
In underwear, hiking boots and headlamps, we hunted the
rascally noisemaker. “Shish, be very, very quiet. I’m hunting the
rascally wabbit!” Our camp raiding grizzly then morphed into an
angry beaver! That discovery was met with a tension-reducing
shared laugh. I guess the big old beaver took exception to our
making a fire in his home and work area. He was making no
secret of his disgruntled attitude, viciously slapping the water
112 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

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A tough climb with a heavy pack.
with his tail. He was obviously trying to
drive us off. That didn’t work, but he did
cost us some sleep.
Tough Climb
The morning brought a bit more life to
us both. We enjoyed cowboy coffee while
glassing from the banks of the lake. Perhaps
some game moved in. With age you
learn how to truly make yourself comfortable
- flip-flops, coffee, feet in the air, and
spotting scope set up perfectly angled for
eye relief and a goat in focus.
“You better get over here!” “What’s up?
You got something?” “Oh yah!” “Where are
you looking?” “End of the lake, to the south,
up the third rock bluff, just below the top
in the rock crag, lying down facing us.” It
was over a mile away. “That is one heck of
a spot. Nice work Pop. Can you tell if it’s a
billy?” “Well, it has good bases and looks
like it sweeps, but it’s hard to tell from here.”
“Let’s go down the lake and take a look from
a different vantage point. Bring all the gear
we need if we decide to go after it.”
“Looks like that’s his spot, he hasn’t
moved,” I said as the sun slowly crested the
west-facing hill. “Well, he looks darn good
from here. What do you think?” “Let’s go
after him.” “Alright, let’s do it.” “How the
heck are we going to get there?” Dad asked.
Pulling out my camera I took pictures of
the entire hill, zoomed in and out through
the scope, and a sequence of the path up
the hill we were thinking of taking.
Everything looked easy from the
bottom, but the fight through the alders
proved to be the battle of the trip. On an
extremely steep slope, with thick branches
pushing back at every step, we began to
wonder just why we were doing this. We
counted our steps. Ten steps, and then a
break. Twenty steps? No, too ambitious,
twelve it is, and then another break. The
slog took the better part of the afternoon,
and we consumed a fair portion of our water
supply.
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113

A group of nannies and
lambs on a rocky slope.
We peaked out of the underbrush and into the expanses
of the alpine, with rock formations probably dating back to
when Christ was a cowboy. By that point the afternoon winds
started to pick up and cooled our overheated bodies. The pictures
proved to be invaluable, as we took a break and analyzed
our exact location in reference to the photographed landmarks.
“Okay, we’re one slide over from where we want to be. He
should be on that ledge, just out of sight to the south, still five
hundred yards up. Let’s climb a bit more and wait to see if he
comes out to us.”
At the Top
The old white beast emerged from his mountaintop grotto to survey
the landscape, determined to find out what was amiss. Noble
in his broad stance, he elevated himself as if he had practiced this
perch a thousand times. The sun had set, the alpine glow was dwindling,
yet there was just enough to accent his magnificent white
mane. Both of us crouched just below a rock outcropping, locked
into a stone-solid position, not flinching a muscle. He continued
to look outward, luckily not catching our scent as he sniffed the
downslope breeze. Satisfied that all was well in the world, he lay
back down. He was in a good position. We could see him, but he
couldn’t see us.
“Okay, let’s get set up.” We were able to position ourselves
appropriately. Packs were laid out stacked on top of each other to
provide a steady rest. The shot was nearly straight up, so a good
rest was a must. “Pop, it’s two hundred and twenty yards without
slope compensation, just hold dead on.”
“He’s going to get up, let’s just be patient,” Dad replied. Patience
can be tough for us young folks, especially when we want
to make something happen, and only nature has control of the
situation. If the big guy didn’t think we had earned our prey, or
that we weren’t noble in our quest, he would have set something
awry. My dad was right though, the mountain monarch eventually
stood to cast a view across his mountain kingdom.
I heard the metallic click of the safety. “You on him?” BOOM!
The .300 Win Mag shattered the silence of the mountains. The
proud mountain monarch lurched backwards. Click, click, one
shell was ejected, and another was ready for a follow-up shot. “Hit
him again!” Immediately, the shot rang out. Both shots hit the
goat solidly. The white beast lurched forward, stumbling toward
the rock ledge. Before either one of us could say a thing, the billy
took a plunge into the abyss. The crashing of rocks and loud bangs
114 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

had with us were hung under evergreen trees to collect morning
dew. This effort led to about a half-full bottle of water for each of
us. It might be just enough for us to recover the goat and make it
back to the water-rich valley below.
Thirst
Recovering the mountain goat went as well as could be expected.
It wasn’t easy, but fortunately not impossible. We loaded up, and
somehow this meant me being strong and Dad being smart. With
everything lashed down, like a pack mule ready for his oats, we
headed toward base camp. Our knees took a beating while walking
downhill, and our backs were aching too. The descent took us into
alder hell, where we spent more time on our butts and backs than
actually standing on our feet walking upright. Sweating and dehydrated,
we struggled step-by-step to the bottom, with the promise
of water whispered on the wind by the moving water of the drainage
below. The instant we arrived at the first bottom stream our packs
hit the dirt. We grabbed our water bottles and filter, and drank to
our heart’s desire. Nothing has ever tasted so good!
Old Man Strength
The culmination of a difficult hunt that
was more than anything an unforgettable
father-son experience.
are never comforting sounds. He rolled to a stop just before the
cliff would have taken him dropping right to the bottom.
Without a helicopter and a rappel team, there was no way of
reaching him that night. This little fact led to another sleepless
night under a tarp next to an alpine fire waiting for morning to
break. We had worked so hard that afternoon just reaching him
and our water supply was very low. Some creative thinking was
in order. We sloped our tarp so that any condensation or water
would flow into my bladder bag. The few plastic garbage bags we
The remaining hike meant crossing a glacial river, and a couple
more ‘clicks’ of treacherous hiking. I was wet and exhausted,
dreaming of the reward of ‘oats’ stored in a flask, and I felt like
I had nothing more in my tank. Slogging along though my dad
reminded me of ‘old man strength’. He seemed to get stronger
the farther we hiked. He made me feel like a wimp for not being
tougher.
We made base camp just before dark. The meat load was pulled
from our packs, the cape spread to cool on a makeshift table, and
the meat hung from another big tree in game bags. With the low
fire, we carved out a few prime cuts to roast on sharpened alder
sticks. Seasoned simply with salt and pepper, and served with
instant potatoes and some true Canadian rye, it was a meal-fitfor-kings.
It was a meal earned.
There wasn’t a big enough grizzly in the entire territory that
could have woken us that night. The following morning we both
moved at a slower pace, taking it as easy as possible. With aching
joints and muscles we walked like geriatrics, as we worked on
fleshing and preparing the cape for salting.
There truly is no better experience than sharing an amazing
hunt in the wilderness with your father. Realizing that this is a
shared time that may never be repeated, brings a rush of emotion,
pride, and heartfelt joy.
We never got our sheep or grizzly on that hunt, but that
one-horned goat adorns my mantle. The soft hide, that all love
to touch, always inspires the tale of the Mountain Monarch and
the unforgettable experience with my dad. So here’s to all the
dads out there who have sacrificed in order to teach their children
the way of the natural world. May your craft and passion never
be lost.
•
115

Mozambique – South Africa: Zebra
STALKING
STRIPES
A magnificent striped creature stood before me
after a long hard hunt. I could scarcely see it in the
thick brush. Acacia trees blocked most of my view
as storm clouds rumbled above, but I knew my
target was there. My finger slowly curled around
the trigger, as my heart hammered and I tried to
control my breathing.
Text: Dalton Valette
Photos: Dalton Valette, iStockphoto

118 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

BUFFALO FIRST
It had taken a long time to reach this
moment. Overall, the hunt up to this point
was not one of cheerful memories. I was
thirteen at the time, but my dad and I had
been to Africa before. Our first safari was
in South Africa, and we had decided that
our second trip to the Dark Continent
would be to Mozambique. We hunted near
the border with Zimbabwe with Motsomi
Safaris, the same outfitter we had used on
the previous safari. The trip was focused
primarily on my dad’s hunt for Cape buffalo.
After hunting for days without seeing
so much as a female duiker, we were forced
to move away from the main camp and
venture deeper into the Mozambique bush.
We loaded a single truck with enough food
and supplies to last for three days. Our professional
hunter Pieter had told us that the
new area would be filled with buffalo. We
quickly set up a spike camp and began
hunting. While the area was indeed ripe
with buffalo, sheer numbers didn’t correlate
with success. We were there in June, just as
the African winter was beginning to take
hold, and all the greenery was dying off.
The terrain was an array of grays and muted
yellows, with ancient cornfields that resembled
those in Planet of the Apes.
We had also been told that the area
was once populated with lots of different
species, including plains game and zebra.
However, the local tribes had poached
most of the plains animals, leaving behind
Top left: A cattle farmer from
the village near our spike camp.
Cattle were his only means of
income.
Bottom left: Villagers came
out to watch us each day. One
day an entire group of kids
gathered around, and an elder
told my dad that I could pick
two girls for wives. I politely
declined.
Right: After my dad shot his
Cape buffalo his hunt was over,
and mine was about to begin.
only the black and brutish Cape buffalo, as
well as the occasional wandering lion. As
zebra was my primary target for the trip,
there was little for me to do except follow
along with my dad and Pieter. We trekked
across the rocky and dusty land for hours
on end with the hot sun beating down on
us, causing my skin to flare into ugly shades
of scarlet.
But it would be quick and only a few
days, right? The few days stretched into
more days and then stretched into well
over a week. The spike camp felt more
and more like a base camp, and the flimsy
cots we were sleeping on began to seem
more like permanent beds. The food supply
quickly diminished, and eventually we
were left with just raw noodles and ranch
dressing. We didn’t dare cook the noodles
in water from the nearby dried riverbed.
The six-foot-deep hole we had dug with
metal buckets was where we showered, and
the water came up with a slight red hue,
even when filtered. We drank only the bare
minimum of the water we brought with us.
Walking for as many as twenty miles a day
while lugging our gear and rifles made for
thirsty work, but we had to ration more and
more as the days ticked by. Soon we finished
off our bottled water supply. We had
to turn to drinking excessive amounts of
Coca-Cola and Fanta. If I can pinpoint my
current addiction to Coca-Cola, it’s thanks
to this trip. Ticks, too, became a massive
nuisance and we had to check ourselves
everywhere, everyday for the bloodthirsty
parasites.
Finally just before dusk set in with the
promise of a cloudless night, Dad got his
prize—a beautiful old Cape buffalo he
took at a watering hole with a .375. With
Dad’s buffalo bagged, the focus of the hunt
turned towards plains game, and my dream
to take a zebra.
RIFLE
As I walked through the bush ducking
under acacia trees with a .243 Ruger in
my hands, skeptical looks were thrown my
way. Before heading to Africa I had studied
all about hunting zebra. That was my
main quarry on this trip, a beautiful zebra
with thick shadow stripes and a full, plump
mane. While doing research I discovered
that the recommended caliber for zebra is
a .30-06. I only had a .243 at my disposal,
but on my trip to Africa the previous year I
had managed to make one-shot kills on an
oryx, blesbok, and a blue wildebeest. Pieter
knew firsthand of my shooting capability
with my rifle. You can develop a relationship
with a gun, a trust and confidence,
and I know how to aim and shoot it well.
And I also know the best chance to make
119

120 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

a good, clean kill is with a rifle that you
know inside and out, even if it is a smaller-than-recommended
caliber.
Walter Dalrymple Maitland Bell, better
known by his pseudonym Karamojo
Bell, was a noted Scotsman, who during
the early 1900s, hunted and shot 1,011 elephants
with a .274 Rigby. He was a terrific
shot and knew where to aim on elephant
for the best and quickest kill. He used the
appropriate, solid ammunition each time,
and honed his craft to become a marksman
for the ages with his small-bores. It was his
ability and skill set that I strived to emulate
with my own firearms. He knew and
trusted his rifle, and I knew and trusted
mine. (It should be noted that Bell always
carried a larger weapon in case of an injured
animal.) While I wasn’t going after an
elephant, my target was still an impressive
one to me. I felt ready and comfortable.
Top left: Heading out for a
day of hunting.
Bottom left: This impala
dropped with a single shot
from my .243 Ruger. After
leaving our spike camp, and
difficult hunting behind, we
were having fun.
IMPALA
For plains game, Pieter took us to his
northernmost camp in the Limpopo Province
of South Africa. There, instead of ticks
greeting us, we were met by larger and far
friendlier company—a pair of slobbering
and energetic mastiffs. As we rolled into
camp the sky was peppered with dark,
heavy, gray clouds. It was an incredible
relief to be able to take showers and have
meals cooked over a roaring fire.
Success came the very next day. I was
able to take a beautiful impala with one shot
from my .243. The long stalk was rewarding
but exhausting. Pieter and I had just
barely been able to peek above the tall yellow
grasses for the shot. I was covered in sweat,
and my hair was blown wildly to the side
as the winds had picked up. Still, the sky
remained dark, with beams of sunlight only
occasionally breaking through the blanket
of clouds, that posed a constant threat of a
downpour. Yet, the rain didn’t come.
ZEBRA
Following the impala hunt, Pieter took
us to an area where the terrain gradually
changed from flatlands with scattered trees
and shrubs, to thicker brush with cragged
red rocks jutting out. We wove our way
through the trees, crouching low, as the
trackers pointed out the faint traces of
hoof prints in the sand, and that led us
deeper into the bush. We were all quiet
as we walked single file. There was an odd
absence of noise around us, we seemed to
be in a vacuum of sound. Suddenly, the
tracker at the front of the line snapped his
fingers. Pieter slowly turned to look at me.
He mouthed the word, “Two”, and pointed
forward while lowering himself even closer
to the ground.
We all followed his lead and awkwardly
crab-walked ahead. When I reached Pieter’s
side I was barely able to make out
movement ahead, but didn’t see any stripes.
There was a large gray animal lying down
and breathing heavily, as its tail flicked flies
away. The massive creature had its head
down and I could just see the tips of its
spiral horns. It was an old eland, sleeping
in front of us. I was confused. I wasn’t after
eland and I looked at Pieter with a raised
eyebrow.
He whispered that there was an eland
with two zebra near it. One zebra was to
our left and a bit more hidden in the brush,
and the other was lying down behind the
eland. He told me to wait for the one behind
the eland to stand up and then to take
the shot. I would have to shoot over the
sleeping beast. Although comfortable with
my .243 and my capabilities as a marks-
Bill Hanlon/Nov.11
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121

We tracked this zebra through
the South African bush, racing
against the weather.
Me next to my beautiful
zebra. Right after all the
pictures were taken, the
clouds erupted and the
rain began washing away
all traces that we had
ever been there.
122 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

man, I didn’t feel that comfortable and
I didn’t want to risk hitting two animals
with one shot. My suggestion was that we
should zero in on the other zebra, the one
on the left.
Slowly I slipped in front of Pieter. My
heart begin to hammer as soon as those
thick black stripes became visible through
the brush. The situation was incredible. I
was just under a hundred yards away, yet
the stripes and shading caused the zebra
to blend perfectly with its environment.
While it seems obvious that monochromatic
creatures like kudu or eland can disappear
before your eyes, the former even
claiming the nickname, “The Gray Ghost”,
it amazed me how a zebra so close by with
its bold stripes could vanish. I watched it
through my scope. It was standing still
and it sensed our presence. I clicked the
safety off and breathed deeply. I spotted
the zebra’s triangle just above its shoulder.
The triangle made for a perfect target.
A solid-tipped bullet rested soundly in
the chamber, ready for launch. Breathing
slowly, I let my finger slowly squeeze the
trigger.
The zebra bucked and darted to the left.
The eland and the other zebra jumped to
their feet and bolted off in the opposite
direction. I wanted to spring up as well
and immediately run after the now lone
zebra, but Pieter held me back. He wanted
to wait. So we waited.
A few minutes ticked slowly by, my
heart still thundering. Then, as if it had
leapt outside of my body, there was a thunderous
crack from above. The sky was about
to break open. With that, Pieter said it was
time to follow. We didn’t know if the shot
had been enough or not, but now the situation
called for action.
We got up and went to where the zebra
had stood just moments before. On
the ground there were dime-sized droplets
of blood. We followed these splatters on
the ground, across glinting leaves and on
the faces of rocks, as they grew in size
and frequency. In the red earth, we could
see the steps the zebra had taken and the
long drag marks. Pieter and I had covered
about three hundred yards when we came
to a small opening in the brush. Standing
there in the dry yellow grass was my zebra.
He was broadside and looking at us, with
blood flowing across his stripes.
Pieter immediately set up the shooting
sticks, and I jammed the .243 into
position. The zebra was only a few dozen
yards away. It snorted as another crack
of thunder rang out overhead. The skies
were getting darker. I placed the crosshairs
in the center of the bloody swath on the
zebra’s shoulder, and squeezed the trigger.
The zebra bucked again and crashed
through the trees. This time, we didn’t wait
to follow.
Pieter ran after the zebra and kept
motioning for me to keep up. We heard
some crashing just in front of us. My
heart was still racing, and my grip on my
gun became looser as I ran. Sweat trickled
out through every pore, and my eyes
were wide and wild. Then, I realized that
there was no longer any sound in front
of us. We pushed our way through the
thickening brush and then I saw it. The
zebra lay still on the ground. I couldn’t
feel my heart anymore. I only managed
to breath a deep sigh, that was a blend of
shock, exhaustion, and happiness.
A smile broke across my face and I
knelt down and patted the magnificent
stripes of this creature. Pieter examined
the shot placement. Both shots were
within an inch of each other. He said the
second shot probably wasn’t necessary, and
that the zebra would have fallen on its
own soon enough, but better safe than
sorry. There was incredible joy in my heart
as we propped the zebra up and started
taking photographs. Just as we finished, a
gentle spattering of rain began. The blood
and tracks on the ground began to wash
away. Soon, there’d be nothing left but the
memories.
•
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123

Kahles – Smartphone Adapter for Binoculars
A hero shot with your next trophy is nice, but the ability to easily capture photos or video of the
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Katadyn – BeFree Drinking Flask
Next to fresh air, nothing is more important than clean, potable
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It weighs only 58 grams and can be folded, so that it will fit into
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BeFree will provide you with clean water. www.katadyn.comce
124 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

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125

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126 | Hunter´s Path 4/2016

Vixen – New Riflescope
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German gunmaker J. P. Sauer & Sohn has teamed up with the Italian gunmaker Fausti
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Sauer Apollo.
Weighing approximately 7.59 pounds, the Sauer Apollo has been created with the
hunter in mind, and features 28 or 30-inch multi-choke barrels, a 14.7 inch length of
pull and a black rubber recoil pad. Designed especially for the huntress, the Sauer
Artemis shotgun weighs just 7.26 pounds and features 28-inch multi-choke barrels, a
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Planned for issue No. 17:
Siberia – Capercaillie | Africa – Survive | Yukon – Moose | Tanzania – Eland | Portrait of an Artist |
Spain – Ibex | Alaska – Caribou | And much more…
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Supplied only to owners of a valid firearm permit.
K3 EXTREM
SINGLE-SHOT RIFLE
Single shot rifles are usually something for purists: One barrel, one
bullet, one locking system – that really is all you need for proper
hunting. The proof, that this minimalistic concept can be reduced even
more is provided by the Merkel K3 Extrem. Whoever holds this drop
single shot rifle for the first time, can hardly believe it: It is almost
impossible to make a gun more lightweight and easy to handle. These
92 centimeter long guns only weigh 2,4 kilos – however they are still
fully functional hunting rifles. The calibre range: from 6,5x57R over the
308 Win. all the way to the 8x75IRS. Finest craftsmanship – for
maximum accuracy.
www.merkel-die-jagd.de
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facebook.com/Merkel.hunting
Subscribe to our Youtube canal:
youtube.com/user/MerkelDieJagd

One of us
BRANDMARK
© 2016
Rifles can only be sold to permit holders.
“Buffalo hunting with
Ian Brown”
Watch it on:
www.blaser.de
Ian Brown, Professional Hunter, South Africa
R8 Kilombero, Caliber .416 Rem. Mag.