The wildebeest is often called “the poor man’s Cape buffalo.”
Legend has it that African antelopes are “tougher” than similar-sized animals elsewhere in the world. It’s certainly true that with a full suite of predators to worry about, Africa’s prey species are constantly on edge, ready for that surge of adrenaline that might speed them out of harm’s way.
As for toughness, it varies. I can’t think of an African animal that’s hardier, pound for pound, than an impala. Similar in size to a modest Hill Country whitetail, an impala, when perfectly hit, will consistently travel farther than one thinks it should have been able to. With a poorly hit impala, all bets are off. Zebras are also tough, strongly built, and heavier than most antelopes. The whole oryx-roan-sable clan is tough. To me, spiral horns and the hartebeests are not particularly tough.
To some extent, we’re all victims of our own limited experience. Just one train wreck with an animal, or with a particular cartridge or bullet, tends to make us generalize. After all, that bad experience couldn’t be based on poor shooting, could it? I think most African professional hunters—who have seen lots of terrible shooting by folks like you and me—would agree: The wildebeest is one of Africa’s toughest animals. It’s a big, powerful antelope. Not among the wariest, not the most beautiful, but just plain tough. That doesn’t mean you need a cannon, but you better put your bullet in the right place.
Decades ago, early in my African experience, we were trying to get a big blue wildebeest bull. He was wandering alone and apparently skipped the classes teaching him he was supposed to be stupid. After multiple failed stalks he sauntered across a little clearing and gave us a chance. I was shooting a .340 Weatherby Magnum, which is a cannon. I was certain of the shot, but I was wrong. I know that because we eventually got him, many hours and miles later, after some brilliant tracking. Maybe he took a step on me, maybe I just blew the shot. Whatever happened, I’d hit him just a bit too far back. Doesn’t take much of an error to have a long day with a wildebeest.
Years later, on daughter Caroline’s second safari, Scot Burchell glassed a small herd of blue wildebeest feeding on a brushy ridge. We got in close, isolated a nice bull, and Caroline took a shot with her little 7mm-08. I couldn’t see the bull when she shot, only saw dark blue bodies running everywhere. Scot was confident and he was right; her bull didn’t go forty yards, down and dead with a 140-grain bullet centered on the shoulder.
I’ve seen my elder daughter Brittany take several wildebeest with her 7mm-08, and I’ve seen them taken cleanly with the .260 Remington and 6.5 Creedmoor. Always, it’s more important where an animal is hit than what it’s hit with, but wildebeest are tough enough that it’s essential to do it right and use a bullet that is certain to penetrate.
Wildebeest comes from Afrikaans for “wild beast” because of their weird antics. Often referred to as “the poor man’s buffalo,” in build they are bovine-like, and have the buffalo’s toughness. I prefer the nickname “clown of the African veld.” Perceiving a real or imagined threat, a herd will stampede off in their rocking canter for several hundred yards. Then they’re just as likely to come stampeding right back.
Primarily grazers of open plains and edge habitat, there are two distinct species: Connochaetes gnou, the black wildebeest or white-tailed gnu; and C. taurinus, the brindled gnu. The black wildebeest occupied a restricted range in what would become South Africa’s Orange Free State, squarely in the path of the Boer voortrekkers as they departed English rule in Cape Colony.
The black wildebeest nearly became extinct, saved only by a couple of forward-thinking farmers who protected the last survivors. When I first hunted South Africa in 1979, black wildebeest were still scarce, found on few properties in small numbers. Today they’re common in central South Africa and widely introduced into Namibia. The black wildebeest is smaller than the brindled gnu, with bulls about 400 pounds. Coal black with a long white tail, weird vertical forehead brush. Although closely related with hybridization possible, horns of the two species are totally different. Black wildebeest horns grow from a massive boss, forward and down, then curve forward and up, tips near-vertical.
The brindled gnu’s horns grow mostly horizontal from heavy bases, tips curving up. Males and females of both species grow similar horns; primary tell-tales are the heavier bases and larger body size of mature males. The brindled gnu is much larger. One reference suggests bulls go up to 900 pounds. I’ve never seen one that big, but I’ll buy 500 to 600 pounds.
From Southern Africa northeast to Kenya there are five recognized subspecies of brindled gnu: blue; Cookson’s; Nyasaland; and Eastern and Western white-bearded wildebeest. Hunters tend to recognize just four, lumping together the two white-bearded races. Horns and body size are generally similar, but coloration varies. Most widespread is the blue wildebeest, found in plains and thornbush habitat across most of Southern Africa. At a distance, the blue wildebeest appears very dark, almost blue. Up closer, the skin is dark gray, typically with vertical black striping. While a shoulder mount of a wildebeest is pure Africa at its finest, the full skin is extremely attractive, and all wildebeests are excellent table fare.
North of the blue wildebeest, Cookson’s wildebeest has the most restrictive range, found only in Zambia’s Luangwa Valley. The striping pattern is more pronounced, again primarily evident on close inspection. To me the Nyasaland wildebeest is the most distinctive and the most attractive with a Hershey-bar chocolate body color and a striking white nose chevron reminiscent of the unrelated spiral-horned antelopes. The Nyasaland wildebeest is found in northern Mozambique and on into southeastern Tanzania, perhaps most plentiful in and around the Selous Reserve.
The Eastern white-bearded wildebeest is the wildebeest of the Serengeti migration. Beards are white or blonde, while dark in all other races. The white-bearded wildebeest is also the lightest in body color, slate gray. The Western race is to the west, no break between. One must assume a hybrid zone, justifying why we hunters lump them together. With Kenya long closed, northern Tanzania is the only place white-bearded wildebeest can be hunted native range. Most of the wildebeest introduced into the US are white-bearded, common on Texas game ranches.
Although plentiful in the wild where they occur, they are not present in all Masailand blocks. The only opportunity I ever had at a white-bearded wildebeest was in 1988. One afternoon on the Simanjaro Plain, along the border of Tarangire National Park, Michel Mantheakis and I ran into a small herd, made a stalk, and took a nice bull.
Of the two species, the black wildebeest is more difficult to judge. You want heavy bosses but, as usual, horn length is more important, so you look for horns that drop well down, then turn up into long tips. Blue wildebeest are simpler: Most hunters look first for outside spread. This is not a record book criterion, but it’s a visible indicator. Much the same as mule deer, with similar numbers: A wildebeest with horns out to ear-tips is probably about 26 inches wide. A couple inches outside the ear-tips and he’s huge, closing on 30 inches wide. Check for big horn bases as the best sign of maturity, just don’t dither too much.
I’ve only taken a couple of black wildebeests, and only one or two each of the northern races. Over the years, I’ve shot a lot of blue wildebeests for camp meat, bait, and culling. I’ve seen few giants. As with most common animals, exceptionally large trophies are rare. In Botswana’s Okavango in 1987, Ronnie MacFarlane said he’d seen an exceptional wildebeest bull. We went looking for him, found him far off across a burned plain. It was difficult to get close, made more difficult because I was shooting an open-sighted .318 Westley Richards.
The rifle shot well, and the front sight was tiny. No way could I see it today, but I could see it back then. I lay down over a pack at 300 yards, put up the 200-yard leaf, and held that tiny bead a bit high on the shoulder. The bull dropped to the shot, which is not common with blue wildebeest. I’m pretty sure that’s the biggest bull I’ve ever taken. For certain, one of the best (or luckiest) shots I’ve ever made.
