Pursuit of this magnificently maned goat makes for a fantastic mountain hunt.

In summer, the Himalayan tahr is a drab, stocky goat seriously cheated in the horn department. Ah, but as weather cools and it’s time for winter coats, mature males grow a long, luxurious golden mane or throat ruff. During the mating season, dominant males fluff out their manes in ritual display–perhaps quality of mane replaces headgear in impressing their ladies. A bull tahr standing on skyline, presenting his colors, is one of the most dramatic sights in Nature. When a tahr stands with its head up, the horns are almost invisible, so it’s the dramatic mane that draws our eyes, more like a lion than a horned animal.

Although not closely related, the tahr has parallels with our Rocky Mountain goat: Short, unimpressive horns, with the luxurious coat an important part of the trophy. It is essential to hunt tahr when it’s in its winter coat (which lasts through spring), when the mane is full; likewise, it’s best to hunt our American goat as late as possible, when the snow-white coat is longest. The tahr isn’t as big an animal as the Rocky Mountain goat, with the biggest males at least a quarter smaller, maybe 200-plus pounds. It’s still a big animal to get off the mountain but, like our goats, they look much bigger than they are because of the long hair.

Although also short, horns are not similar. The tahr has much thicker bases, up to ten inches in circumference, and horn length in good bulls is around twelve inches, occasionally reaching fourteen inches with the largest known. Like most Caprinae, the horns have annular growth rings. Also like many sheep and goats, tahrs head-butt in mating battles. The sharp tips tend to curve back and down. Naturally, this is said to limit penetrating horn wounds during mating battles. It must work, because in my experience bull tahrs with broken horns are unusual. Like our goat (and chamois), female tahrs have horns, but the female’s horns are much smaller, almost vestigial.

There are actually three tahrs, once thought separate species of one genus, but they’re not so closely related, so science now identifies three genera, all with one species and no known subspecies. The two not many have heard of are the Arabian tahr (Arabitragus), believed to be hanging on in parched, rugged mountains in Oman; and the Nilgiri tahr (Nilgiritragus), still with a known, protected population in southern India.

The tahr most of us know about, and the only one of interest to hunters, is the Himalayan tahr, Hemitragus (half-goat). The Himalayan tahr is widespread and reasonably plentiful along the southern fringe of the Himalayas, native to a long strip between India, Nepal, Bhutan, and tipping into southern Tibet. This is because the tahr isn’t a creature of the highest mountains. Like most goats, they love rough country, so are found in the tall foothills, not among the higher peaks. Nepal is still the only place where the tahr can be hunted native-range and free-range.

In Nepal’s Himalayas, you look for them in steep, brushy cuts near timberline, in that latitude about 12,000 feet elevation. The blue sheep, or bharal, are found higher up, almost in the big mountains proper. Although tough, the mountain hunt in Nepal is one of the world’s best mountain expeditions. There is some chance along the way for muntjac and wild boar. Now-protected goral and serow will probably be seen, with sightings of leopards and bears possible, but Nepal is primarily a two-species hunt: Blue sheep and tahr.

Although you must climb to higher elevation for the blue sheep, in my experience tahr was the more difficult pursuit. Not nearly as plentiful, singles and small groups rather than herds, and much more difficult to glass. The tahr country is also steeper and rougher. Once you get on up to 14,000 or 15,000 feet, the blue sheep tend to be found in big, open, treeless valleys and on wind-swept ridges. In Nepal, almost everyone gets a blue sheep. Not everyone will find a shootable tahr.

Nepal was my most memorable mountain hunt, and I was fortunate to take excellent specimens of both blue sheep and tahr. We saw quite a few; partner JY Jones and I took our tahrs in just two or three days, then moved camp on up above tree line to hunt blue sheep. Although excellent in all ways, it was a tough hunt. I’d like to do it again, but that was a dozen years ago, and I’m not certain I’m still capable.

Fortunately, Nepal isn’t the only place the Himalayan tahr can be hunted, and probably not even the best. As well as New Zealand’s Southern Alps, the Himalayan tahr has been introduced into Argentina, South Africa, a few isolated spots in Europe, and even the United States. There are tahrs on some Texas ranches, but there have also been at least three little-known free-range populations in the United States.

The tahr was part of Dr. Frank Hibben’s “ecological niche” experimentation that also brought aoudad, ibex, and gemsbok to New Mexico. Tahr persist in some remote canyons, but the population isn’t large. William Randolph Hearst introduced them onto his Central Coast “Hearst Castle” estate. At one time they were plentiful, often seen on the long driveway up to the castle, frequently wandering off onto adjacent ranches where they could occasionally be hunted. Current status is unknown, but it’s believed the now-plentiful cougars have hammered them badly. For sure, there aren’t as many as there once were; I haven’t heard of a sighting lately, but that stuff is kept pretty quiet. There was also a small breeding population on private land near the Chalk Bluffs in northeast Colorado, but I haven’t heard anything about them in years.

New Zealand was naturally devoid of large mammals. During the latter nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, widespread experimentation was done to fill that void, with numerous attempted introductions. Little-known failures included blue sheep and mule deer. Moose made it for a time but, although still rumored, have probably been gone for fifty years. The successes are better-known: Fallow, red, rusa, sambar deer, chamois, and Himalayan tahr. In 1904 the Duke of Bedford sent six tahr to New Zealand from his Woburn Abbey estate. One jumped off the boat, so only five survived. In 1909 the Duke sent five more, and all made it. These thirteen tahrs are the basis for the tahrs now widespread across the South Island’s Southern Alps.

Legally (and controversially) considered a pest, New Zealand’s quasi-management goal is to maintain tahrs at a maximum of 10,000 animals. Actual population is possibly still much larger, but they have been exterminated from much Crown (public) land by helicopter gunning. The good news: They are also plentiful on various large, unfenced private stations (ranches), where the government cannot eradicate them, and they are also a fixture on large hunting estates.

Tahr only occur on the South Island, without question the best place in the world to hunt them. New Zealand is justly famous for the world’s biggest red stags, but here’s the rub: New Zealand’s awesome stags are largely a product of decades of active deer farming (for venison and velvet), so the biggest stags are almost invariably behind wire. The majority of tahrs (and chamois) are free-range, so I rate the Himalayan tahr as New Zealand’s top animal and best hunt.

Helicopter access and, sadly, even gunning, are generally legal and common in New Zealand.   I don’t care for the latter, but helicopter drop-off can be an option. Especially on the west coast, the mountains rise so precipitously that it’s almost impossible (and deadly) to get up or down without technical climbing gear. The north-central mountains generally aren’t as steep, so there are a lot of areas where walk-up tahr hunting is practical.

Starting in 1988, I suppose I’ve done at least a dozen tahr hunts in New Zealand. Not all for myself; Donna has shot a couple, daughters Brittany and Caroline one each, and I have sometimes accompanied other hunters. I love it; it’s a real mountain hunt in gorgeous country for a fantastic animal. Like everything else, prices have gone up, but a New Zealand tahr hunt won’t break the bank and, if you’re up for the climb, it’s cheaper without helicopter time.

I’ve done just two tahr hunts with helicopter assistance, once on the west coast where that was the only safe way. Another time, Donna and I got dropped off on top and hunted our way down, a long day but great fun. The rest have been walk-up hunts, mostly with Chris Bilkey, who specializes in such things. Tough, yes, but never a killer. In 2011, I went along with Bilkey and Bill Jones just three months after my heart attack. I figured if I could survive that I’d be good to go, and I have been. Lord knows I don’t need another tahr, but that’s probably a climb I’ll make at least one more time!

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Or are there actually 40 species of big game on our continent? It all depends on which list you use.

Photo above: A massive old muskox bull. Photographed in Greenland, this is (of course) a Greenland muskox. Canada has both Greenland and barren ground varieties, visually indistinguishable, but the barren ground muskoxen get bigger.

In the early 1950s, about the time I was born, New York ad executive Grancel Fitz became the first person to take all known varieties of North American big game. Quite a feat, especially in Fitz’s day, when air travel was in its infancy.

 Who knows what fuels our dreams when we’re young? I was young when I read about this, thought it was cool, and decided it was something I should accomplish. In the 1980s I was making good progress; I dared believe I might pull it off by the time I was forty.

Not even close. Polar bear hunting was coming and going, and I didn’t have a desert bighorn. I was fifty, just back from the Persian Gulf, when I ponied up a year’s worth of combat pay to hunt a desert sheep in Sonora. That left the polar bear, still open in Canada’s Arctic, but with importation getting iffier. I was in my mid-sixties when I finally choked it up and shot a beautiful white bear, completing a half-century quest. If anyone cares, my polar bear is life-size mounted in the conference room of the Leupold distributor in western Canada. I need to visit him.

Today we reckon at least twenty-nine varieties of North American big game. Grancel Fitz, instrumental in developing Boone and Crockett’s measuring system, worked off a different list than we do now. In his day, jaguar hunting was open in Mexico, as were both Atlantic and Pacific walrus hunting. The Central Canada barren ground caribou category did not exist, nor did we recognize Sitka blacktail or the then-protected tule elk.

So, the “complete” list of North American big game has changed. Delete this, add that, but during my lifetime North American big game has been resilient, a testament to our North American Model of wildlife conservation, largely instituted by Theodore Roosevelt during his presidency, and initiated by he and his friends when they founded the Boone and Crockett Club in 1888.

We all know northern Quebec’s great caribou herds have crashed, with nonresident caribou hunting now closed. I recently saw a report that suggested Quebec-Labrador caribou hunting might be closed for fifty years.

Because of that caribou, this is one of few times in my life when hunting all of the North American big game species has not been a possible dream. The first time was when Mexico closed jaguar hunting. Importing a legally-taken jaguar into the US has not been possible since 1971, but hunting for them continued in Mexico for a few more years. I remember reading my colleague Jon Sundra’s story, “Last Cat from Campeche.” I’ve even seen his cat, mounted in a mutual friend’s house in Mexico (for the same reason my polar bear remains in Canada). 

Jaguars are increasing in Mexico and reoccupying their former range. From a pure management standpoint, funds from a handful of hunting permits could do much for conservation. But the jaguar is such an iconic and politicized animal that I doubt there will be another legally taken North American jaguar.

Sport hunting for Pacific walrus in Alaska has been closed since 1979 and seem unlikely to open again, despite a population exceeding 200,000. The Atlantic walrus is somewhat smaller in both body and tusk. Its numbers are also smaller, but stable, and limited hunting has been conducted in Canada’s Nunavut for some years.

Over the last forty years, we have essentially removed the jaguar and Pacific walrus from our list of huntable North American big-game animals. Now must we do the same with the Quebec-Labrador caribou?

Since the days of Grancel Fitz, twenty-nine has been the traditional magic number for North American big game. Within their world hunting awards system, Safari Club International (SCI) offers recognition for the “North American 29.” The Grand Slam Club/Ovis (GSC/O) “Super Slam” award is presented for taking twenty-nine North American big-game animals. So, for those of us who like to organize our dreams, there is more than one list to choose from.

The Super Slam list is traditional: Four bears (black, grizzly, Alaska brown, and polar); five deer (whitetail, Coues, mule, Sitka and Columbian blacktail); three elk (Rocky Mountain, Roosevelt, tule); five caribou (mountain, woodland, Quebec-Labrador, barren ground, Central Canada barren ground); three moose (Canada, Alaska-Yukon, Shiras); four sheep (Dall, Stone or Fannin, Rocky Mountain or California bighorn, desert bighorn). Plus: cougar, bison, muskox, mountain goat, and pronghorn.

So far, so good: that’s twenty-nine. There are also four auxiliaries: jaguar (if taken before 1972); Pacific walrus (taken before 1980); Atlantic walrus; and wolf. Wolves have long been hunted as big game (with seasons and licenses) in Alaska and various Canadian provinces, and they now are hunted in several Western states. The wolf is a problem creature in multiple ways, but in this case it messes up the magic number. Interestingly, in their Super Slam, GSC/O solves two problems with the wolf: it may be substituted for the now unavailable Quebec-Labrador caribou.

SCI’s “North American 29” list includes all the same animals, but adds eleven more, for a total of forty possibilities. Any twenty-nine within this list (including at least three sheep) qualify for the award. SCI’s additional animals include jaguar (darted or pre-1972), both walruses, and wolf; they also add Fannin (a natural hybrid between Dall and Stone) as a fifth sheep. SCI also adds several subspecies they track in their record book. These include: continental (inland) and coastal (Pacific) black bear; both eastern and western Canada moose; Arctic Islands caribou; desert and Tiburon Island mule deer; and alligator.

The two approaches show that it’s not a simple subject, complicated over time by more knowledge, hunting closures, and new opportunities. Maybe it’s a good thing that no such list can ever be quite perfect. Traditionally, we have always separated the Coues whitetail, based on a taxonomic error that considered it a full separate species. The Coues deer is just one of thirty-eight recognized whitetail subspecies, and twenty-nine of them occur above the Panama Canal. I love my whitetail hunting, but I’m glad I don’t feel compelled to hunt a couple dozen varieties! There are also two distinct muskoxen, Greenland and barren ground; and two bison: plains bison and the gigantic wood bison.  All offer hunting opportunities, but we rarely separate them.

There is now yet another list, or new challenge. GSC/O has ascending levels for mountain hunters: Super 20, 30, even 40, for sheep and goats, but the Super Slam was North America’s pinnacle. My old friend Rex Baker felt this inadequate for our continent, so he cooked up a new list and award, the Rex Baker Super 40. Similar to SCI’s North American 29, Rex’s list is forty-four species deep, any forty required. Included are most of SCI’s additional animals, with a few differences.

Jaguar and Pacific walrus are dropped, since both are closed and few hunters still active hunted them. The bear category adds glacier bear, a color phase hunted on a black bear tag; and barren ground grizzly, hunted in Nunavut. Gray wolf is on the list, plus alligator and Atlantic walrus.

Rex’s other “new” animals are especially interesting. His sheep category separates Fannin and California bighorn, and adds aoudad, the first time a non-native animal has been included in such a listing. I tend to agree because free-range aoudad are widespread and offer a real sheep hunt. Also new to the list are wolverine and Canadian lynx. Like wolves, they are often trapped, but also can be hunted by a licensed hunter as big game. Then comes the zinger: Among the deer, both gray-brown and red brocket are added. Distinctly different, definitely North American, hunted in southern Mexico, and desperately in need of recognition. The more common gray-brown brocket is tough; the red brocket is a serious quest.

Rex Baker is one of the world’s greatest living hunters. He won the Weatherby award fifteen years before I did, and I didn’t think there was much out there that Rex hadn’t hunted. When he cooked this up, he didn’t quite have forty of his forty-four choices. One he was missing was a red brocket. I didn’t have one, either. Rex finally got his in March 2022; I got one a week later. For Rex and me, it was our fourth hunt for this pesky little deer. For Rex, this completed his own forty-animal quest.

As for me, I’m close. I never hunted barren ground grizzly or California bighorn. I was booked for Atlantic walrus in 2020, but it got Covid-cancelled, and I haven’t gotten it done yet. I also don’t have a wolverine. I’ve seen several, but never when the season was open. I have no idea how to hunt one on purpose.

Hey, forty distinct Norh American animals is hard! I thought that red brocket turned the trick, but I was wrong. In 1995, out of Yakutat, Alaska, on my third hunt for a glacier bear, I took a big, navy-blue bear. I believed it was of that color phase, turning dark with maturity. So, for twenty-seven years, I’ve given myself credit for having a glacier bear, but Rex’s committee rejected it as not light-colored enough. So, that challenge is still out there!

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Legendary PH and conservationist Robin Hurt on the future of wildlife and hunting in post-Covid Africa.

Photo above: Robin Hurt with his two beloved Bavarian mountain hounds.

The two sleeping giants arrive in square metal containers in a cloud of dust and light.  At 2:48 a.m., a flat-faced Volvo crane truck ended its all-night, 500-kilometer trek just inside the gate of a 15-acre boma in the Groot Gamsberg region of Namibia. The female white rhinos aboard have completed an unlikely journey of hope and survival.

As the truck crawls to a stop, the snap and woosh of the air brakes initiate a ballet of human hands, cables, and hydraulics.  Piling out of the cab, the transport crew works quickly beneath an array of floodlights telescoped above the truck. Harsh illumination spills down, casting an arc of white on the men and the boma’s grass; beyond it, all else is pitch black. Outrigger arms from the truck’s chassis whirr and extend like an alien insect to find the ground and stabilize the platform.  Then, finally, the team attaches the containers by cables, and the crane gently places each on the ground beside the truck.

Three of us watch from the shadows atop a spotting bench in the bed of a Toyota safari vehicle.  Mere observers at this point, we’re positioned behind and up a slight rise from the containers. The crew’s animal wrangler climbs atop a container holding what looks like a basting syringe in his right hand. He slides back a panel, and the top half of his body disappears into the darkness of a hatch on the container’s roof. The syringe holds an antidote to the sedative that followed the MD99 immobilizer that downed the white rhino cow from the Gobais region in the east of Namibia—a single drop of which would be lethal to a human.  

The wrangler explained minutes earlier he would squirt the liquid into the rhino’s ear, where it would be quickly absorbed, bringing the 4,000-pound animal out of her slumber. The first sound we hear is the flexing crash of the container’s thin metal walls as the wrangler backstrokes his way out of the hatch. The rhino is awake and not happy with her accommodations. The wall slamming continues while an assistant pulls a chain to open the roll-up door at the container’s end. The door flies up with a metallic rip, and the rhino charges out into the light. She descends the ramp and spins her massive body 180-degrees to face the crane truck and the lights. Temporarily blinded and disoriented, she lowers her head and exhales in aggressive, audible blasts that press dust clouds into the light beams crisscrossing her small patch of earth. At that moment, our safari vehicle seems entirely too close and small. As she adjusts to her surroundings and weighs her instinctual options, the lights shining directly in her eyes serve their secondary purpose of obscuring the people and vehicle from which she emerged. How is it possible for an animal weighing two tons to move so fast and change directions as if she were a weathervane hit by a sudden gust of wind? We just witnessed it–African nature at its most remarkable, but at the same time deeply vulnerable.

The two female rhinos will spend ten days in the 15-acre holding boma for observation, and then released to roam freely across 20,000-acres of wilderness. Though a man renowned among clients and colleagues alike for his focus and grit, Robin Hurt was flooded with unexpected emotion, “After all the work and planning, I couldn’t believe it was happening,” he recalls. 

Africa was Home

Born in London in 1945, Hurt’s life began amidst the turbulence of World War II. Running the gauntlet of German U-boats on a steamship from Mombasa, his father, Roger, and mother, Daphne, sailed around Cape Horn to England. Hurt’s father, a Lieutenant Colonel in the British Army, was recalled to London to receive the Distinguished Service Order from King George VI of England. Daphne was a Kenyan of British ancestry and gave birth to Robin while German buzz bombs rained down on London. Shortly after the end of the war, Hurt’s father accepted a position in the Kenya Game Department. Kenya was then a colony of the British Empire.

Reared on the shores of Lake Naivasha, Kenya, northwest of Nairobi, Robin began his education in the African bush almost at birth. Though educated in British-modeled boarding schools, a connection to the bush and the difficulties of undiagnosed dyslexia left him constantly distracted from his classwork by what lay outside the school walls. As a child, he spent most days around the family farm exploring with his Maasai friend, Tinea.

Young Robin wanted to hunt, but his father was strict with firearms, only allowing Robin to carry a rifle on his own when he could prove to be safe and proficient. At age 8, Robin received his first rifle, a .22 caliber Krico. When he grew large enough to handle its weight and recoil, his grandmother, a woman of Kenyan settler stock and nurse in World War I, allowed him to shoot her .256 caliber Mannlicher at targets. When Robin was 12, a rampaging leopard killed twenty sheep, mauled a farmworker, and snatched his grandmother’s Jack Russell terrier off the veranda. Late one night, Robin heard growling outside his bedroom window. The leopard had returned and was twenty yards from the window—surrounded and slashing with razor-sharp claws at the farm’s baying dogs. Robin retrieved the .256 from under his bed, loaded it, and crept back to the window. Opening the window as quietly as possible, he could see the leopard in the full moonlight. As soon as the circling dogs left space for a shot, he fired from inside the house. The big cat immediately jumped and ran into the shadows. Hearing the noise, his grandmother burst into his bedroom, thinking Robin had accidentally fired the rifle indoors. Robin explained he had aimed carefully but was unsure of the shot. His grandmother wisely decided they would investigate in daylight rather than pursue a wounded leopard at night. Robin’s aim was true. They found the leopard stiff and dead 100 yards from the house, and his life as a big-game hunter had begun.

Over his father’s objections, 18-year-old Robin carved a path away from the family’s tradition of a Sandhurst education (the UK’s West Point) and a military career. He elected instead to become a licensed Professional Hunter (PH). Not merely a permit to guide clients for money, an African Professional Hunter license requires both a multi-year apprenticeship and passing a series of exams that cover game identification and hunting techniques, field medicine, firearm safety, and ecology.

Hurt spent weeks in the bush with his father’s Kenyan game scouts throughout his youth. But his formal training began via an apprenticeship with Kenya’s top Hunting Safari company, Ker Downey and Selby (KDS). At KDS, Hurt learned from a legacy of experience that stretches back to the late nineteenth century. One mentor, Harry Selby, made famous to American readers by Robert Ruark’s book, Horn of the Hunter, was himself mentored by Philip Percival, the PH who guided Theodore Roosevelt and Ernest Hemingway.  

Over the next several decades, Hurt and his clients explored his native Kenya and neighboring Tanzania and more exotic regions such as the Sudan and Zaire. At that time, the areas were largely undeveloped, and warfare between rival tribal factions could and often did break out. His reputation grew as an intensely focused PH whose clients found the largest animals. Among many awards, he won the Shaw and Hunter Trophy in 1973 for a 54-inch buffalo hunted in Lolgorien, Kenya. Hurt was also the featured PH in George Butler’s documentary, In the Blood (1990). The film traces the steps of Theodore Roosevelt’s famous 1909 safari chronicled in his book African Game Trails. Joined by Theodore Roosevelts IV and V but told through the eyes and narrated by Butler’s teenage son, Tyssen, the film chronicles the family tradition of hunting and examines issues facing African wildlife. The film also features quotes and vintage film clips of then former-President Roosevelt’s safari and a shooting competition with his Holland and Holland .500/.450 Nitro Express double rifle on loan from the Smithsonian Institute and reconditioned for use in the film.

Not always glamour and adventure, the life of a PH and the safari business can be costly and sometimes deadly. When hunting in Zaire (now Congo), Customs officials extorted Hurt, refusing to return a large sum of money held as a surety on his safari vehicles and equipment. The state-sponsored theft resulted in a painful financial loss for the season and the return of deposits to nearly 20 clients whom he could not take on safari. The monetary damage forced Hurt to sell his home in England to cover the losses. Hurt was also severely mauled by a leopard in 1992. Nearly 200 pounds, the high-altitude leopard was significantly larger—both in tooth and claw—than a typical cat of that species. In less than 30 seconds, the leopard put 32 bite holes and two massive claw wounds into Hurt. The mauling crushed his right elbow and severed a large vein in his left leg requiring multiple daily scrubbings to disinfect the wounds. Over more than five decades in the African bush, Hurt has seen many close friends and fellow Professional Hunters killed by dangerous game, poachers, and the accidents that befall those who operate far from modern medical facilities.

But throughout Hurt’s extraordinary life experiences and fifty-nine seasons as a Professional Hunter, one element has remained unchanged—his commitment to supporting and protecting Africa’s wildlife and wild places. “When I began my career as a professional hunter at the age of 18 in 1963, Africa was a sea of wildlife with islands of people. Today, we have the exact opposite. Africa is islands of wildlife facing a tsunami of people.”   

In 1990, Hurt founded the Robin Hurt Wildlife Foundation (RHWF) to develop linkages between Tanzania’s sustainable utilization of wildlife, poverty alleviation, and the maintenance of healthy ecosystems. The program, funded by hunter-conservationist money and ideals, turned poachers into anti-poachers by engaging and supporting the local communities to become better stewards of the natural environment. A commitment shared by the family, Hurt’s two sons, Roger and Derek, now run the Tanzania company as well as Foundation. 

In addition to the support of wildlife, the RHWF takes a holistic approach to community engagement. Over the past fifteen years, the Foundation has donated over $3.2 million building 37 schools, 75 houses for teaching staff, and 28 health dispensaries in addition to numerous water pumps, and other life sustaining equipment such as tractors, milling machines and ambulances. More than bricks and mortar, the facilities train and educate the citizens on the value of conservation and the sustainable utilization of wildlife.  

Recognizing the critical nature of poaching’s impact on the rhino population across Africa, Hurt’s wife, Pauline, concluded the best way to protect them was to create an organization to help “spread the risk” by moving the rhinos from areas of high concentration near human populations to more remote locations. The rhinos would then freely roam and multiply, protected by professional game guards and hunters away from poaching pressure and human encroachment. From Pauline’s original idea, the Hurt’s leveraged their contacts and influence to found Habitat for Rhinos in 2014. They raised funds to secure concessions and relocate rhinos to their ranch in Namibia. More were added over time, to include a mature bull, “Big Daddy,” who has sired more babies, including two in 2021, bringing the total to eleven.  Pauline’s son, Daniel Mousley, is a professional hunter who works with Robin in the Namibian safari operation alongside the rhinos.

The rhinos on the Gamsberg Concession will not be hunted. The long-term goal for the program is to build the herd and ultimately relocate select rhinos to other remote locations managed by like-minded people committed to protecting the critically threatened species. Two full-time anti-poaching guards protect the animals. The guards track the animals daily and scout for signs of human intrusion. Support for the care and protection of the rhinos comes from the proceeds of plains game hunting on the property and donations from hunters. The Hurts also host photographic safaris and tracking the rhinos has become increasingly popular. In addition to protecting the rhinos, Habitat for Rhinos employs numerous locals that support paying guests and the ranch’s facilities.

At the 2020 Dallas Safari Club Convention, the Hurts received the prestigious Capstick Award, in recognition of the success of Habitat for Rhinos, for “long-term support and commitment to our hunting heritage through various avenues such as education, humanitarian causes, hunting involvement, and giving.”  

Hurt on The Future of Wildlife and Hunting in Africa

At 77, Hurt retains the visage of a lifetime in the sun and carries himself with the same dignified bearing and direct, precise speech that keeps his clients focused and junior PHs on their toes.  I recently spoke with Robin to get his thoughts on the future of African wildlife in the post-Covid environment.

Len Waldron: In a recent speech at the International Council for Game and Wildlife Conservation (CIC), you said Africa is on a cliff edge. Could you explain your thoughts?

Robin Hurt: It’s African wildlife that is on a cliff edge, not Africa itself. The reason I say that is because we have all this negative hunting information being sent around the whole world on the internet. It goes viral. Look at Cecil the Lion; most of that was a misunderstanding. So that’s why we live in such a dangerous time as far as the future of wildlife goes. All this anti-hunting sentiment is based on emotion—it’s not based on realism or science. And that is dangerous because if you stop hunting, like what’s happened in Kenya, the wildlife populations go down. If people do not benefit from wildlife, they will not keep it. It’s as simple as that. Recently, I wrote to Minister Goldsmith in London about this proposed ban on trophies coming into the UK. I said, “If you do this, you are signing a death sentence on wildlife. For example, on places like ours where currently we have wildlife, it will be replaced with domestic animals like cattle, and they are the biggest polluters on the whole planet.” So, I asked, “What do you want? Do you want wild animals roaming there, and we benefit, or do you want domestic animals there?” That’s really what it boils down to. The wildlife will survive forever, provided people benefit from it. But the minute people stop benefitting from wildlife; it becomes cheap meat or a nuisance. If someone’s grandmother is out collecting firewood and killed by an elephant, what are they going to do? They are going to kill it. But if that elephant is a valuable asset, they will think twice about killing it.

You cannot make the whole of Africa into a huge national park. Period. And most of the wildlife actually occurs outside the national parks. It’s those animals that are on the cliff’s edge right now.  

Len Waldron: You’ve spent a lifetime supporting the conservation of wildlife. When was that ethos instilled in you?

Robin Hurt: I grew up with it. My father was a game warden. It was mainly from my dad, but also his game scouts. All my early hunting I did with his game scouts.  

Len Waldron: What do you think hunter-conservationists have done best?

Robin Hurt: That is a very good question. To be honest with you, I don’t think we have done enough to promote what we do. That’s why in my speech last night (accepting the Capstick award), I said it’s time we put aside these differences with anti-hunters and get together and talk about conservation—and find a middle road. We can’t be at loggerheads the whole time because that is bad for wildlife. I believe in working with people rather than against them. The biggest problem is that some people don’t want to listen, even if you have all the facts. But I take the time to talk with people. I’ve talked to people who are so dead anti (anti-hunting), and then after I have explained that I am a manager of wildlife and not a killer of wildlife, they begin to realize.  

I am really adamant that this term “trophy hunting” has got to stop. We don’t go hunting just for the bloody trophy. And I use the word “bloody” because that is the result. We go hunting for the chance and the chase, for the camaraderie, for being up close and personal with dangerous animals—it’s not just to hang something on the wall. The trophy is a treasured memento of all those things. We are not communicating well with people who do not understand hunting. We are managers of wildlife. The term ‘hunt’ has become a nasty word. We are perceived to be evil people. Another problem is that antis are humanizing wild animals–we use wild animals to live on.  

Regarding poaching—there is a lot of misunderstanding amongst the general public in defining poaching and legal hunting. It’s a common mistake to place both under the same umbrella. A poacher is the illegal, un-selective user of wildlife—simply a thief bent on the extermination of wildlife for a quick reward. The legal hunter, on the other hand, is the legal steward and manager of wildlife. His or her very existence and way of life depends wholly on healthy wildlife herds and their sustainable use—a use set by careful management quotas.  

It is not legal hunting that has led to the decline in elephant and rhino numbers. It is entirely due to unchecked commercial poaching fueling the demand for these illegally obtained products. 

Len Waldron: Is there an a-ha moment when speaking with anti-hunters that you find some begin to understand an alternate point of view?

Robin Hurt: Yes, it’s very simple. They have got to understand that if you take hunters out of the bush, there is no income coming into those places, and people are not benefitting from the wildlife, so they won’t keep it. There’s not much difference between a farmer who farms cattle or sheep and a hunter that looks after wildlife. They are both managers–some people choose to manage domestic animals, I choose to manage wild animals. 

Len Waldron: We were there together when the first rhino came out of the container onto your property. For me, it was a surprisingly emotional moment. I remember it vividly. Can you describe what was going on in your heart and mind when you saw it, having seen what has happened to rhinos over most of Africa?

Robin Hurt: It was a hugely emotional moment. I could hardly believe that this had actually happened and that we had been responsible. We did it to give back. I have earned my entire livelihood my whole life through hunting and the use of wildlife. So, we want to give back. We give back in many ways through our community projects and now with the rhino projects. If I didn’t have the love for the animals, I wouldn’t do it. And that’s what a lot of anti-hunters don’t understand. They say, “how can you love an animal and, at the same time, kill it?” But it’s the same with a shepherd or a cattle herder—he loves the animals, but he uses them.

Len Waldron: What have the rhinos taught you since they have been on your property?

Robin Hurt: They’ve taught me lots of things. First, I’ve always known they were extremely dangerous animals, but I didn’t realize how far they move in a night. They walk 15-20 kilometers a night, huge distances. And that’s the way they are. If you are following tracks the next day, you are following tracks that might be six or seven miles from the rhino. Also, the births are geared mostly towards male calves because the males fight and kill each other for the right to breed—so we are hoping for some female calves in the future.

Len Waldron: What do you think the most critical steps are in the next several years for African conservation?

Robin Hurt: The biggest threat we have is too many people. The big difference between my boyhood in Kenya and now is we had islands of people surrounded by wildlife. Today, we have the exact opposite—islands of wildlife surrounded by people. And that’s becoming a tsunami of people drowning those islands of wildlife. And that is why it is so crucial that people benefit from wildlife.

Len Waldron: 2023 will be your sixtieth season. If you were talking to your eighteen-year-old self, what would you tell him?  

Robin Hurt: When I got my license (Professional Hunter) in 1963 at the age of eighteen, a lot of my mother’s and father’s friends said I was crazy to pursue this—there was no future in it. That was 59 years ago. I say to young people—there is a future in it. Do things properly and do it ethically. Do not do any of the canned hunting that goes on. Do not do any put and release hunting. Hunt naturally and hunt ethically. And if you do that, you’ll always have it. And again, take time to talk with people who don’t understand hunting.  

Len Waldron: How as the Covid pandemic impacted African hunting and wildlife?

Robin Hurt: Covid has had a terrible effect on the entire safari industry. For most operations, this has meant 18 months of no work, and most of the hunters returning are cancellations from before. But the demand is huge, and people are returning. We managed to keep our employees and focus on improving our operations and property. We chose to pull in our horns and focus on improving our operations and property. Others were less fortunate, especially if they had debt to carry.

As for the wildlife, it is good if not better. We didn’t see an upsurge in poaching—it remained the same as before. In Namibia, we have seen consistent rains which have changed the landscape after several years of drought.

Len Waldron: You have a third book coming out. Tell us about it?

Robin Hurt: Its title is A Dangerous Game; it’s a large book featuring over forty guest writers and my own stories covering the hunting of dangerous game in Africa. The stories are first-hand accounts and images going back to the early 20th century and many untold stories such as early hunting in the Central African Republic.   

Robin Hurt’s second book A Hunter’s Hunter, was released in January of 2020 by Safari Press. His third book A Dangerous Game, is set for release at the 2023 Dallas Safari Club Convention. Click here to order it.

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Red deer are magnificent trophies and can be hunted in many parts of the world.

The European red deer is one of the world’s only game animals that can be found on every continent (except Antarctica). This big, beautiful deer is native to Europe and Asia, and various races are widespread on both continents. Less known, the Barbary red deer is native to North Africa. Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia still have populations of this native African deer.

Red deer have been widely introduced all over the place. Best-known introductions are Argentina and New Zealand, but there are also free-range populations in Australia and Chile. Red deer are relative common on hunting ranches in Texas, and there have been other introductions in North America.

So, if you want to hunt red stag, almost the entire world is your oyster. That makes it complicated! Probably best start with some basic questions. Is it important to hunt native range? How about free range? Want a big stag, or a good hunt for a nice stag? What about timing? Personally, I hate reality, but budget must always be part of the discussion.

NATIVE RANGE/FREE RANGE

Native range is simple: Throughout most of Europe, and into western Asia. The majority of red stag hunting in Eurasia is free range, but this issue is more complicated. The red deer has been farmed, ranched, and bred for so long that no region is completely free of high fences. In large areas, the experience suffers little, but if you insist on “wild and free,” then you must ask the hard questions.

Outside of Europe, Argentina and New Zealand are the primary destinations. Both have free range red deer in vast areas, but both countries have active deer breeding and game ranching industries, so the hunting is a mix. You can have either, even both, but it’s important to know. These days, there are some excellent red deer in Texas and elsewhere in North America, but free-range opportunities are unlikely.

HOW BIG A STAG?

The biggest European stags are probably in Eastern Europe. Bulgaria, Romania, and Hungary are especially famous for big stags. Spain has excellent red deer hunting, but the Spanish subspecies is smaller. Scotland also has fantastic stag hunting, but Scottish stags are also smaller.

In Europe, animals—especially large specimens—are traditionally priced by size (using the European CIC system that Americans don’t understand). Big stags of medal quality are expensive. Europeans are used to this; Americans are not. For us, the best situation is to find a “package” that puts allows a stag up to a certain size for a fixed price, as in bronze or silver medal. These can be good deals, but you must accept the gamekeeper or guide’s judgment; you may see stags bigger than you’re allowed to take (or willing to pay for).

Stalking stags in the Scottish Highlands is a matchless experience and generally free-range. Breeding of bigger stags is ongoing, but native “hill stags” are not large, and the hunt is really a harvest, where stalking on foot is an all-important art form. Stalking stags in Scotland is not expensive, but the “sports” are absolutely expected to go with the program. Expect to see magnificent “breeding stags” that are off-limits.

New Zealand is famous for producing the world’s largest red stags. Yes, but understand that deer farming (for venison and antler velvet) has been an industry in New Zealand for generations. In the 19^th Century, red deer were introduced in the rugged hills above the farmed valleys. Finding an ideal environment absent predators, they bred up to nuisance numbers. Original stock was of poor antler quality and didn’t magically improve. To this day, genuine free-range New Zealand stags have modest antlers.

Deer farmers brought in superior genetics and are producing magnificent stags, but New Zealand’s biggest stags are behind wire and, sad to say, the really big ones are typically in small pastures because of their value. This picture is changing. Between escapees and purposeful releases, New Zealand now has excellent unfenced stags in the hills above the deer farms, and on large fenced estates. However, in the back country, “genuine” free-range New Zealand stags still have modest antlers.

Red deer were introduced in Argentina’s Patagonia and La Pampa regions a century ago. They flourished and, unlike New Zealand, original releases came from good stock that produced. As a combination of antler quality, experience, and cost, Argentina probably offers the world’s best free-range red stag hunting. Free-range stags are rarely huge, but can be good. Typically, the hunting is on horseback with gauchos, and is a wonderful experience.

Argentina also has an active deer breeding industry, working hard to catch up with the Kiwis. So, as with New Zealand, there is a mix of free range and otherwise. Same-same, the biggest stags are behind wire. In both countries, hunts for “take ‘em as they come” stags, up to potentially excellent, are reasonable, usually less than a medium elk hunt in the Rockies. Want a really big stag? Doesn’t matter where, it will cost you. 

TIMING IS EVERYTHING

A big red stag is an amazing creature, with multi-tined crowns, thick beams, and a forest of points on each side. This may surprise you, but I’ve never shot a really big stag. I avoid fences as much as possible, and genuine free range is unusual for the biggest stags. Also, different strokes for different folks. It’s just not an animal I’ve been compelled to invest that heavily in.

That said, I’ve done a lot of stag hunting: Austria, eastern Europe, western Asia, England, Scotland, Spain; multiple times in Argentina and New Zealand. I’ve been beaten, of course, but I’ve also gotten lucky. I’ve missed the rut, too early and too late. That isn’t necessarily the kiss of death; it depends on terrain and vegetation. If you can see ‘em, you can hunt ‘em, but if the rut isn’t on, you won’t hear ‘em…and you’ll miss the real magic of hunting red deer.

They call it the “roar.” The first time I heard it, with Ricardo Medem in Spain, I had no idea what I was hearing. Honest, I thought it was a domestic cow calling to her calf. Wapiti bulls challenge with their lilting three-note bugle. European red deer roar. A deep, guttural, frightening sound that couldn’t possibly come from the throat of a deer. But it does. This is odd because our wapiti and their red deer are genetically close and interbreed freely, but the vocal challenge of mating males is altogether different. It is said that the “bugle” carries better and farther in open country, remembering that our wapiti were creatures of the Great Plains. The same theory suggests that the red stag’s “roar” carries better in European forests. Both sounds are fantastic…and altogether different.

With elk, catching the bugling is a matter of seasonality; in some states, only the bowhunters get a crack at it, and they are richer for the experience. With red deer, because of limited pressure and, often, privatization of wildlife, if you plan properly, you can catch the roar.

This could be a matter of restricted hunting pressure almost throughout the red deer’s range, but in my experience the red deer is more aggressive than the wapiti. Can’t tell you how many times (or places) I’ve been in the middle of them, stags roaring like lions. Maybe the best-ever wasn’t my stag. Donna’s turn, a horseback hunt up into the Andes above Bariloche, a deep-throated stag going crazy on an impossibly thick hillside. I stayed back with the horses while her guide carried on a conversation, drawing the stag in. Just feet, hidden gray body, and antlers through a screen of foliage at forty yards. How she found a hole to shoot through I have no idea. Antlers were thick and unusually long. Points could have been better, but it was the biggest-bodied red deer I’ve ever seen…and, to my eye, the best hundred-percent free-range stag in my experience. 

Because he is so widespread, the red deer offers a weird advantage: There are two “roars.” Yeah, only one per customer (or stag), but one in the Northern Hemisphere; another in the Southern.

It varies with area, but in Eurasia the red deer roar in late September and early October (likewise North America’s introduced stags). In South America and the South Pacific, the roar and antler cycle are opposite. Again, it varies by specific area and depends on weather, but figure late March through April. Sure, with luck and hard hunting, you can miss the roar and get a great stag, but you’re also missing hearing them screaming. So, as a North American, if I wanted a red stag, I’d first decide whether I wanted to hunt in our autumn or spring. In autumn, Scotland, Spain, eastern Europe; in spring, Argentina or South Pacific.

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Relive the golden age of outdoor adventure with a pilgrimage to the Jack O’Connor Center in Lewiston, Idaho.

Photo above: Jack O’Connor’s Grand Slam of Wild Sheep (along with a big Dall sheep shot by his wife, Eleanor), is on display at the Jack O’Connor Center.

Jack O’Connor (1902-1978) was arguably the most famous and influential outdoor writer of all time. Even today, his opinions and experiences influence our understanding of rifles and calibers, outdoor ethics, and what it means to be a hunter. Plenty of younger hunters who have never read a Jack O’Connor story have heard his name, and most hunting rifle aficionados know him as an advocate of the versatile .270 Winchester (which was a newfangled, whiz-bang caliber when he started championing it in the 1930s).

Although O’Connor sold his very first outdoor-magazine article to Sports Afield in January 1934, it was the many decades he spent as Arms & Ammunition Editor of Outdoor Life that made him famous. His sixteen books included such classics as Game in the Desert, The Big Game Animals of North America, The Rifle Book, and Sheep and Sheep Hunting.

Jack spent his early years in Arizona, where he hunted desert sheep, Coues deer, mule deer, and other species on both sides of the Mexican border. In 1948 he moved his family to Lewiston, Idaho, to take advantage of the fantastic big-game and bird hunting in the northern Rockies, and that’s where he lived out the rest of his adventurous life, taking extended hunting trips to western Canada, Africa, India, and Iran. His wife, Eleanor, often joined him, taking a large number of record-class animals herself.

In 2006, a dedicated group of O’Connor fans honored Jack’s legacy by establishing the Jack O’Connor Hunting Heritage & Education Center on a scenic hilltop in Hell’s Gate State Park in Lewiston. I visited the Center for the first time this past June during their annual open house and fundraiser, and I felt like I had stepped into a time capsule from the glory days of outdoor magazines and outdoor writing. The Center contains fascinating displays of some of Jack’s and Eleanor’s finest trophies, their custom rifles, and even their camping gear and horse tack.

But the O’Connor Center is far more than a museum about a man. Its mission is to educate today’s hunters and non-hunters about the pivotal role that ethical, legal hunting plays in science-based wildlife management. The Center furthers this goal by hosting elementary and secondary students for programs in wildlife education and shooting, and it partners with Lewis-Clark State College to offer science activities and outreach. Anyone who admires high adventure and great storytelling will find the Jack O’Connor Center well worth a visit.

ATTENTION WRITERS! Have you written (and published) a story about hunting wild sheep? Enter it in the annual writing contest sponsored by the Jack O’Connor Center. Click here for details: https://jack-oconnor.org/jack-oconnor-writers-award/

Learn more about the Jack O’Connor Hunting Heritage & Education Center at jack-oconnor.org.

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Myths and facts about lightning and what to do if you’re caught in a storm.

Much of what is popularly believed about lightning and lightning safety is dangerously wrong. If you haven’t studied the subject recently, you might be surprised by the latest science and the fact that so many widespread beliefs have been discredited. And if you don’t know about phenomena such as “earth potential rise” and “upward streamers” (which, combined, account for about 60 percent of lightning-caused injuries and deaths), you might be putting yourself at serious risk, and not only while hunting. 

Lightning begins inside tall cumulus clouds, as convective, roiling forces create distinct layers of negatively or positively charged electrical energy. When the oppositely charged fields build high enough, the normal insulating capacity of air breaks down and the fields connect in a sudden electromagnetic discharge, a massive spark, that we experience as lightning.   

Most lightning remains inside the clouds (“intra-cloud” or IC flashes), without hitting ground. What concerns us are the cloud-to-ground (CG) strikes. CG lightning begins when an invisible “stepped leader” issues downward from a cloud. This usually is a very narrow channel of negative ions which zigzags its way in approximately 50-yard, multi-branched segments toward the ground. The intense negative charge elicits a positive-charge response from the earth, causing “streamer channels” to flow upward, especially through taller nearby objects (a tree, a mountainside, a person). When the oppositely charged leader and streamer meet, an electrical connection is made and a return stroke of intense luminosity zooms back to the cloud at about 60,000 miles per second. This is the flash we see, which is so quick we can’t properly perceive its direction. There might, in fact, be more than one return stroke and as many as 20 with a negative CG strike, accounting for the flickering appearance of some lightning. 

When you hear thunder, there must be lightning, because lightning is what causes thunder. Energy from a lightning stroke heats surrounding air to more than 50,000 degrees F in a few millionths of a second, creating an explosive, audible shock wave. The loudest thunder is produced by cloud-to-ground flashes, and can be heard as far as 10 to 25 miles away. This has practical safety importance, because thunder is one of the keys to avoiding danger. Since light travels through air nearly a million times faster than sound, you can (sometimes) use the flash-to-bang formula to assess how close you are to approaching lightning. Count the seconds between an observed distant flash and the sound of thunder. Then divide that number by 5, since sound travels at about a fifth of a mile per second. If, for instance, the interval between lightning and thunder is 30 seconds, the flash was about 6 miles away. (This is dangerously close and means you are already in the risk zone.) Note that flash-to-bang isn’t always easy in the field. Multiple flashes can be hard to isolate and attach to a specific thunderclap. Even so, booms and rumbles in the distant sky are important to monitor, because they can help you apply the valuable “30-30 rule,” about which more later. 

First, though, here’s a look at a very misunderstood subject: the various ways lightning can hurt you.  

Direct Strike. As implied, this is when a bolt shoots down and hits a person straight on, usually because that person is out in the open. Contrary to general belief, direct strikes are comparatively uncommon in developed countries, comprising only 3 to 5 percent of fatalities. 

Side Flash. (Also called “splash.”) This type of strike is much more frequent, causing about 30 percent of deaths and injuries. It occurs when lightning hits another object, such as a (comparatively) tall or lone tree, travels downward, and then “jumps” to a nearby human who is unwisely seeking shelter during a thunderstorm. Side flash can also occur person to person. If three people are hunkering under a struck tree, lightning can splash onto the nearest or tallest person, and then to the next one and the next, harming all.

Contact Injury occurs when someone touches a conductive surface that has been lightning-struck. It could be a metal fence or vehicle, or indoors, a sink faucet after a nearby strike has entered the ground and gone into the dwelling’s water-pipe system. Contact strikes account for about 3 to 5% of lightning injuries.

Earth Potential Rise (EPR). This term utilizes the physics concept of “potential energy,” and refers to what happens when lightning injects its current into the earth, greatly raising its “potential,” or voltage. Lightning might hit near someone and initiate a ground current that enters the body upward through the feet. There are many cases where multiple victims–for instance, a field of athletic players–are all felled by the same branching current. Another version of EPR occurs when a house is directly or indirectly hit and someone is using an ungrounded land-line telephone. The shock is often serious, resulting in disabling long-term medical issues. (Cordless phones are safe. Contrary to myth, so are cell phones, which do not attract lightning, or raise one’s risk of being struck, indoors or out.)

For hunters and other outdoor recreationists, a specific example of EPR is particularly important, and explains why it is not safe to seek shelter from a thunderstorm in a side-slope cave or beneath a rock overhang. When lightning strikes a mountain top or slope, the spreading current can discharge in a surface arc that travels downhill (especially if highly conductive rain is also draining downward). When the arc enters the cave or underhang area, it can create a sustained electrical field capable of causing serious burns, temporary paralysis. or death.    

Upward Streamers. These are a serious but widely unknown source of danger. They occur when the ground sends an oppositely charged leader up toward a cloud’s descending step-leader, as described earlier. The up-rush of electrical energy can cause serious injury or death when a person becomes the unwitting conduit. (Hence one can be harmed by lightning without ever actually being “struck” by it.) Some medical authorities rank “streamer shock” as the most underestimated mechanism of [all] lightning injury. 

Shock waves and blunt trauma. Finally, lightning can injure or kill “nonelectrically” from concussive shock waves and shrapnel injuries (as when tree bark or even concrete “explodes” after being struck) or when a person is thrown–sometimes tens of yards– and lands with blunt force trauma. In less-developed countries, especially in Africa, lightning that strikes ungrounded dwellings with thatched roofs frequently causes multiple casualties and deaths from a resulting fire. Often, temporary paralysis of the lower limbs (a common result of being struck) prevents people from escaping a burning structure. 

Considering these many ways of being hurt by lightning, it seems a wonder that anyone can survive at all. But the surprising fact, at least in developed countries, is that most do. In the U.S. the fatality rate of lightning strikes is less than 10 percent. This is possible because of the incredible speed of many strikes, which penetrate the human body only for a microsecond before the current arcs or “flashes over” the outside of the skin (sometimes blasting away the victim’s clothing, shoes, and socks as surface moisture and perspiration vaporize with explosive force). Despite general belief, lighting injuries rarely involve deep burns–only 20 percent of victims suffer any burns at all, most of which are superficial. Immediate deaths are usually from cardiac and/or respiratory arrest. For this reason, first-aid triage for multiple lightning victims is the reverse of usual field procedure. “Treat the dead victims first,” is the rule, since many can be revived with immediate CPR that includes rescue breaths. Note that a person who has been lightning-struck is not dangerous to touch nor brimming with transferable electricity (another myth). 

After someone is hit by any form of lightning, burst eardrums are common, as are neurological disorders. “Surviving” a lightning strike in about 70 percent of cases means dealing with serious and lasting impairments. Memory loss, cognitive disability, personality changes, sleep disorders, stress syndromes, depression, job loss, chronic pain–these are only some of the many terrible aftereffects of being struck by lightning.   

The idea, of course, is not to get struck in the first place, and the best way is through the right preventative measures. One approach is the 30-30 rule. The first 30 refers to the flash-to-bang formula described earlier. If the count between a flash of lightning and the sound of thunder is 30 seconds or less, you’re already in danger and should head for safe shelter. (Some experts say even this is cutting it too close and it’s better to simply heed the maxim, “when thunder roars, go indoors.”) The second 30 means: wait 30 minutes after a storm passes and the last lightning/thunder is seen or heard before going outdoors or resuming an outdoor activity. There are good reasons for the 30-30 rule. Many people are struck well before a storm actually arrives, or after they believe it has passed. Lightning can strike ten miles or more beyond the storm cell, ahead, to the side, or behind. It can even hit while you are standing under a clear blue sky, watching what you believe is a distant storm. “Bolts from the blue” really do happen. The common belief that it’s safe to stay outdoors, or in the open, until the rain arrives, is also dangerously wrong. Lightning often strikes well before the rain starts and well after the rain has stopped.

As it turns out, a lot of the advice we’ve been given on how to stay safe during a thunderstorm has been proven wrong. The much-touted “lightning crouch” (standing in a deep crouch, lowering your head to minimize being hit by an uncommon direct strike), has been denounced as ineffective, giving people a false sense of protection. The same for sitting on a rubber sleeping pad or backpack or wearing rubber-soled boots to stay safe from ground currents; it doesn’t work. Ditto for cautions not to hold or wear anything metal because metal attracts lightning. (Not true.) Or the suggestion to lie flat if you are caught in the open–a mistake, because that actually makes you more susceptible to ground currents.

Unfortunately, experts warn, there is no truly safe place outdoors during a lightning storm. To have total protection you either need to be inside a grounded building or shelter, or in a fully enclosed metalvehicle. A shack, camper, trailer (unless all metal), tent, or thatched hut (especially in Africa and Mexico) will not protect you from lightning strike, and may in fact increase your level of danger during a storm. Semi-open shelters such as those found along some mountain trails or in parks, on beaches, golf courses and at bus stops–or your home’s porch–can actually make you more vulnerable. If these places are struck directly or by side-flash, a very dangerous electrical-field arc can be created, similar to that described for caves and rock underhangs, and you do not want to be the “conductor” caught in the middle.

Inside a grounded dwelling during a thunderstorm, don’t touch anything conductive that connects to the outside of the building. This includes metal storm doors or window frames, plumbing, attached-receiver landline phones, etc. As for metal vehicles, these will function as a “Faraday Cage,” which takes an intense electrical lightning stroke on an upper surface (roof, hood) and conducts the current down the sides to the ground, protecting those inside. It’s a myth that rubber tires ground a vehicle. They don’t; in fact, tires often explode when socked by the voltage. The vehicle’s roof and exterior must be all metal (no fiberglass, or cloth convertible-top) and must be fully enclosed. It’s also important not to be touching anything that’s part of, or connects conductively to, the exterior or the electrical system. 

Of course, while out hunting or hiking, it’s not always possible to get to one of these truly safe shelters before a storm is upon you. What to do then? 

First, try not to be caught, by paying attention to local thunderstorm reports on your various media devices, by observing incoming weather and by heeding distant flashes and thunder-rumblings in the sky. Head for safety immediately at the first roar of thunder if you can. But if that’s impossible, there are some things you can do, and not do, to improve your odds. Stay out of the open. Don’t be the tallest object in the vicinity, and don’t be near or beneath the tallest object(s). Don’t assume a nearby ridge or mountain slope or stand of tall trees will provide a protection zone. That’s another myth, as is the belief that the tallest object in an area will always be the first hit. Not true. Lightning’s leader channel is a mere 1 to 3 inches in diameter–surprisingly narrow–and it can sense upstreaming ground-leaders only within a zone of less than 168 feet. A stand of trees or a mountain slope 200 feet away won’t matter if a leader-branch senses and connects with you first. This is also why you should not stand in a clearing between trees in a forest, as is sometimes advised. 

When a thunderstorm approaches, stay off of ridges. Realize that storms and lightning are up to 5 times more prevalent in mountainous high country than down low, especially in the mid-to-northern Rockies. If caught in the heights, try to descend via gullies and drainage cuts, not along ridgelines or side-slope spines. Descend on the lee side (opposite of the incoming storm) if feasible. Seek refuge in low, rolling terrain or in an even-height stand of vegetation that is not, in itself, the tallest composite object in the vicinity. In a group of two or more people, spread at least twenty yards apart to avoid potential multiple-casualties and so that in case of a strike, the unhurt person(s) can lend first aid and call for help. Stay off of open water and away from tree lines at the edge of shores or meadows.

Finally, take lightning seriously as a threat whenever a thunderstorm is near, whether while hunting or at home. Nobody thinks they’ll be the rare unlucky person who gets hit by a bolt from above–until it’s too late, and in a literal flash, they are. 

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Wild sheep are a conservation success story, but it’s still tough to draw a tag.

Photo above by Vic Schendel

As a hunter in America today, if you want to hunt deer, you can do so without much trouble. Want to hunt pronghorn, elk, or black bears? With a little planning, you can likely pull those off as well.

Wild sheep, though, are a different story. If you want to go on a sheep hunt, you are probably going to have to do one of two things: spend years and years applying for tags, with no guarantee of ever drawing one, or pony up a significant amount of money for a guaranteed tag and a guided hunt in a place like Alaska, Mexico, Alberta, or British Columbia.

Quite simply, it’s a supply-and-demand issue. The conservation efforts funded by hunters since the 1930s have been phenomenally successful at restoring abundant populations of deer, elk, pronghorn, and other animals to North America. But sheep populations are fragmented, and wild sheep face unique threats, chief among them a vulnerability to respiratory disease from domestic sheep and goats.

The fact that most hunters who love sheep will never actually get to hunt one has not stopped the impressive conservation efforts that hunters are funding for these animals. One of the most successful has been trap-and-transfer programs. According to the Wild Sheep Foundation (WSF), over the past century, some 22,000 wild sheep, primarily Rocky Mountain and desert bighorns, have been captured from healthy herds and transplanted into areas with few or no sheep, vastly expanding North America’s sheep range and population. A recent example was a 2021 release of 19 ewes, 2 lambs, and 5 rams into Montana’s Tendoy Range, where the previous bighorn population had been wiped out by respiratory disease in 2015. More sheep are set to join them this year.

Thanks to these efforts, which are spearheaded and supported by conservation groups such as WSF and its chapters, state and provincial game departments, and private landowners, North America’s bighorn populations have increased from an estimated 25,000 in 1960 to 85,000 today. That’s still not a huge number, but it’s a vast improvement, and represents a consistent trend in the right direction.

It’s impressive that so many people who will probably never draw a sheep tag are committed to sheep conservation anyway. There’s a precedent for this. It’s hard to imagine now, but a century ago, white-tailed deer numbers were so low that most hunters didn’t even bother trying for one. Through habitat work and trap-and-transfer programs, conservation-minded hunters worked to change that. Today, of course, we take for granted that we can get a deer license. Those who are dedicated to sheep conservation hope that one day, the same scenario will hold true for sheep—and that sheep hunting will have gone from aspirational to attainable for the average hunter.

To learn more about the Wild Sheep Foundation and its conservation work, visit wildsheepfoundation.org.

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We are thrilled to announce that for the seventh year in a row, Sports Afield was selected as one of License! Global magazine’s Top Global Licensors. License! Global magazine is the leading publication in the brand-name industry. The editors compile a list of the top global brands each year. We came in at No. 68 for 2022, and it’s exciting to be ranked among Coca-Cola, NASCAR, Major League Baseball, National Geographic, and Lamborghini. Our thanks go out to the network of Sports Afield Trophy Properties brokers, the Sports Afield Consumer Products company, and all the members of Team SA and SATP for their hard work in building and promoting this wonderful brand.

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Boddington noticed some interesting shifts in the equipment hunters chose to use on safaris in Africa in 2022.

In June 2022, I shared campfires in South Africa with a dozen-plus first-time African hunters. Being in camp with African newbies is fantastic, because I know no other way to almost recapture the wonder and magic of a first sojourn in Africa.

Initially, I joined a half-dozen friends at Carl van Zyl’s John X Safaris, then two groups of SCI auction hunt winners at the Burchell family’s Frontier Safaris. Both operations are in the Eastern Cape, but the areas have very different topographies. All of the hunters were on plains game safaris.

“Plains game” is a bit of a misnomer because not all African game lives on open plains. Many species prefer thick bush, others mountains. Most are antelopes, but don’t forget warthogs, bushpigs, and zebras. Variety is Africa’s greatest treasure and, in Southern Africa, the somewhat misnamed “plains game safari” is the best deal in the hunting world!

The first group of hunters consisted of experienced Midwest whitetail hunters; the second camp was mostly folks from the Rocky Mountain West, experienced elk hunters. Everybody wanted a kudu, and had other recognizable species like impala and warthog on their agendas, but most kept their options open. My first safari was long ago, but I guess I was obsessed by Africa before I got there; my early safari “wish lists” were detailed.  These hunters probably approached it correctly: See it, get a taste, decide what looks interesting. As in: “Oh, so that’s a hartebeest, cool!”

Beau Hammon was the lone bowhunter and the only guy who started with a sable on his wish list. At John X, Beau got his archery sable, a gorgeous bull. In fact, he did wonderfully with his bow by stalking, only using a rifle for his kudu. At Frontier, engineering professor Hamid Saadatmanesh, SCI auction hunt winner, hadn’t considered hunting a sable. I was with him when we glassed a fine bull; he hesitated about five seconds, and a stalk was on.

I did little hunting for myself, usually tagging along with one party or another. Thing is, there’s not much I need in Southern Africa, but it’s still a delight to enjoy the wildlife and share the excitement. And, I’m a gun guy. I like to see what’s being used, and what works.

Among these hunters, I observed two trends that, perhaps, reflect a shift in thinking on rifles and cartridges for African plains game. First, in both camps, the majority of the hunters opted to use camp rifles. This was usually because traveling with firearms adds to the hassle. As far as cost, it is kind of a wash. Rifles and ammo are costly in Africa, so expect a rental fee. On the other hand, airlines now charge extra for firearms, and all charge for excess baggage. There may be gun permit or clearance fees and, with a big, heavy gun case, you’ll incur some extra tips. For me, these are costs of doing business; I prefer to bring guns I can write about. This doesn’t apply to most hunters, so a sensible decision can be made whether to bring or borrow.

Because more hunters prefer not to travel with firearms, outfitters are stepping up and investing in better guns. Just always be sure to check to find out what’s available. In Southern Africa, it’s a piece of cake: Almost all outfitters have suitable guns. So it’s your choice: Enjoy the satisfaction of using your favorites, or save the hassle and probably some cost, and use camp guns.

Some of the hunters did bring their own firearms, of course. At John X Safaris, Steve Molter brought a pristine, vintage Belgian Browning, Mauser bolt-action, in .30-06. His old-fashioned .30-06 served him well (just like I’ve always said it would) both on big animals like kudu and zebra and on smaller, nervous animals like springbok and impala. He and I could find agreement on his near-perfect choice. Similarly, at Frontier, a father-son team rented a .308 Winchester. Okay, I’m more of a .30-06 guy, but the .308 is a good and traditional choice.

But those were exceptions, and that’s the second trend I noticed: At least among these hunters, faster cartridges in modern platforms were “in,” bringing greater range capability than I’m used to seeing. Historically, long-range shooting has been uncommon in Africa, probably because of a combination of good stalking and the traditional African rule that one drop of blood spilled equals a license filled.   

I usually prefer traditional calibers, but for this hunt I went off the reservation, making non-traditional (and thus uncharacteristic) choices. Wanting to spend time afield with new stuff, I took a new Gunwerks Nexus in .300 PRC and a LAW M704 in 6.8 Western. I thought the guys would laugh at me, but my choices fit right in! 

Hamid had a Gunwerks 7mm Remington Magnum, so did John Macones (also an auction hunt winner). My buddy John Stucker had his Christensen in 6.5 PRC. And at John X, outfitter Carl van Zyl had several Gunwerks rifles on hand (pretty fancy camp rifles). These were chambered to 7mm Long Range Magnum (LRM), a proprietary based on the shortened Remington Ultra Magnum case, so similar to the PRCs and Nosler cartridges, good velocity, fast twists for heavy-for-caliber bullets.

At Frontier, except for that .308 (which performed just fine), the camp rifles were .300 Winchester Magnums, plus a .300 Jarrett. Rifles in the faster, flatter-shooting cartridges (including mine), mostly wore bigger scopes than I have typically used in Africa, up to 3-18X and 5-25X. Almost all were dialed in for longer-range shooting.

Traditional African shooting rarely exceeds 300 yards. With good equipment and preparation, I saw this expanded to well beyond 400 yards, with some exceptional shooting. I made the two longest shots I have attempted in Africa, not “extreme,” but to 500 yards. I made a spectacular miss when, mysteriously overnight, my .300 PRC shifted enough that I missed an entire eland. Stuff happens, you just re-zero and go back to work. The rifle must have taken a tremendous knock; who knows how.

Most mess-ups were standard and predictable. On their first safari together, PH Harry Selby soothed Robert Ruark’s by saying, “Everybody misses at first; it’s the light.” No, it’s first-safari jitters; my first safari also started with bad shooting. Let’s not name names, but the majority of hunters in both camps missed their first opportunities. Expect this. Deal with it and try again! 

Since the modern “long range rig” was predominant, a lot of hunters brought bipods, intending to rely on them. Much of the Eastern Cape is open enough for shooting prone-with-bipod, and there are also lots of rocks where bipods might be employed. However, there’s also a lot of thick, thorny brush, where flopping down isn’t the best idea. Traditional African shooting sticks thus remain useful. I was disappointed that some hunters complained about initial misses because of unfamiliarity with sticks. It made me feel like I’ve been talking to an empty room for forty years! I’m guessing this is a product of American long-range courses, which stress bipods. They offer great stability, but it’s foolish to end up in Africa with no “stickology” practice. Surely I’ve written about this before?

Interestingly, rather than traditional three-legged African shooting sticks, most PHs in both camps had switched to modern sticks that stabilize both the butt and fore-end, notably the French-designed “4 Stable Sticks.” Like all else, using these takes practice, but stabilizing both butt and fore-end increases stability and thus range, making them very effective in areas (like Eastern Cape), where average shooting distances are farther than in thick thornbush. 

I was a bit disturbed by the frequent use of match or “long-range” bullets, rather than hunting bullets designed to provide penetration on a wide variety of game. Despite my concerns, things worked well. After a day or so (and some embarrassment), all hunters got their sea legs and finished with good bags. Wounded animals were few, unrecovered animals were almost nil. However, as animal size and distance increased, we had some lively discussions about bullets, calibers, cartridges, hitting power, and shot placement.

There were two more sub-trends worth noting. Virtually all of the “camp rifles” were fitted with suppressors. Easily accessible to South African hunters, they made my role as “observer” painless. On my unsuppressed rifles, one with a muzzle brake, I needed to remember earmuffs and remind my team to plug their ears when I prepared to shoot. Also, spotting scopes. Once rare in Africa, good scopes were carried by most PHs, and employed constantly.  

Another lesson was just for me: It’s no secret my taste in rifles run toward walnut and blue. Out with Steve Molter one day, Carl and I glassed from a valley while Steve and his PH stalked an impala on a steep ridge above us. It was late morning and the sun was bright; I was horrified by the glint and glare coming off Steve’s Browning, a gorgeous, but with high-gloss stock and bright blue metal. I doubt my preferences will change, but there’s something to be said for Cerakote, matte, and carbon fiber!

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Choosing the right destination for your Cape buffalo hunt.

There are two big differences between hunting in Africa and the rest of the world. First is the variety. A typical hunting area in Africa will hold ten or a dozen varieties of antelopes. This occurs naturally almost nowhere else on the planet.

Second is the opportunity to pursue dangerous game: the traditional Big Five or the newer Dangerous Seven (adding crocodile and hippo). Costs vary, but Africa’s full suite of dangerous game remains huntable. In the fifty years that I’ve been obsessed with African hunting I’ve seen opportunities ebb and flow. In the 1970s, Americans couldn’t import leopard trophies, and hunting a Southern white rhino was unimaginable. In the 1980s, it was widely held that elephant hunting was finished. On the other hand, lion hunting was still readily available.

Throughout it all, the African buffalo has been the constant, easily the most numerous, widespread, and available of Africa’s dangerous beasts. Today, many hunters have little interest in pursuing pachyderms and the great cats, even if they could afford to. The buffalo is a different deal. Most hunters who dream of Africa long for a face-to-face encounter with Africa’s “black death.” As iconic as his fearsome fellows, no one considers the African buffalo threatened. In hunting areas, he is an important meat source, and also marvelous fun to hunt. He is an affordable dream, on par with a decent elk hunt.

Where, across the vastness of Africa, are the best places to fulfill that dream? This, too, has changed. In the 1970s, the short, inexpensive “plains game safari” didn’t exist, and ten-day buffalo safaris were unusual. Typical safaris were three weeks, including opportunity for two or three of the Big Five. Back then, little was going on in Namibia or South Africa. The most common destinations were Botswana, Kenya, Tanzania, and Zambia. All held plenty of buffalo.

The closure of Kenya in 1977 changed the game. Sleepy Namibia and South Africa came to life and game ranching industries grew. Inexpensive and productive, Namibia and South Africa became hubs for the emerging short plains game safaris, but buffalo were scarce and expensive there.

In 1981, Rhodesia became Zimbabwe and the long, brutal bush war ended. This opened up the buffalo-rich Zambezi Valley and another “new” safari emerged: The ten-day buffalo safari. Zimbabwe was the leader, but she had competition. Buffalo were plentiful in many areas, with larger quotas than for other dangerous game and key antelopes. Botswana, Tanzania, and Zambia competed directly with Zimbabwe in the growing “buffalo safari” market. Costs were higher than “plains game only,” but a fraction the cost of full-bag safaris in the same areas, from the same camps.

Things changed again. With burgeoning herds, Botswana reopened elephant hunting. Since then, and now, hunting in Botswana is an “elephant economy.” In truth, all other species in Botswana are depressed from competition with overpopulated elephants. She has excellent buffalo, but nothing like the numbers I saw in the 1980s, and Botswana hunting is not inexpensive.

Let’s take a look at a few notable places to hunt buffalo today.

TANZANIA AND ZAMBIA

Tanzania has a huge buffalo population, especially in the Selous Reserve and the central Rungwa region. With multiple buffalo on a seven-day license, she remains a good destination for a shorter buffalo safari. However, operating costs are high, and air charters are usually needed. Tanzania offers wonderful buffalo hunting, but is more expensive than other current options.

Zambia is similar. Although still a primary destination for full-bag safaris, she has fantastic buffalo. Two of my “top three” buffalo came from Zambia, and I was pleasantly amazed at the numbers of buffalo—and quality of bulls—I saw in the Luangwa in July ’21. Zambia is also a costly country to hunt but excellent for buffalo.

SOUTH AFRICA

By the early twentieth century, South Africa’s buffalo were nearly eradicated because of bovine diseases. Using scarce and precious disease-free stock, South African game ranchers have been breeding buffalo for decades. Genetics are superb, but building up the numbers took many years. For most of my career, surplus bulls in South Africa have been scarce. And, despite horn quality, so expensive that I discounted them. It happened so gradually that I just plain missed the sea change. Today, huntable private herds exist all over South Africa.

Supply finally matched demand, and prices plummeted. Trophy fees will be high for exceptional bulls (which South Africa definitely has), but daily rates are Africa’s lowest, and average horn quality excellent. Roads are good, along with an effective network of internal flights.

Put it all together, and South Africa now offers the least expensive buffalo hunting on the continent. There is one catch: Most of her buffalo are behind fences. Some “buffalo properties” are large, others not. Bush tends to be thick, and my experience with these buffalo is they tend to be unusually aggressive. Also, they know their ground, so hunting them often isn’t easy. Most of the time, hunters are unaware that there’s a fence out there somewhere, but its presence is a fact one must be aware of when considering a buffalo safari.

ZIMBABWE

Zimbabwe remains a fine buffalo destination. With good numbers and resultant quotas, Zimbabwe probably offers Africa’s least expensive free-range buffalo hunting. The “ten-day buffalo safari” is Zimbabwe’s most popular hunt, bread and butter for her outfitters. Buffalo are found all around her periphery: Zambezi Valley to the north; Matetsi to the northwest; the entire Hwange Park corridor to the west; and on the huge conservancies to the south and southeast. Areas vary, depending largely on management. Zimbabwe is not known for huge bulls, but this is misleading. Zimbabwe’s buffalo country tends to be thick. This makes it difficult to identify the best bulls, but they’re there. I’ve taken a few great Zimbabwe bulls—and seen more taken. Zimbabwe is solid for buffalo, with hunting usually done by the classic tracking method.

MOZAMBIQUE

In Portuguese days, Mozambique was known for legions of buffalo. She wasn’t hunted during her long civil war (1975—1992), and in its wake little wildlife remained. Hunting resumed thirty-some years ago. In that time her wildlife has recovered, at least in well-managed areas.

Mozambique offers relatively inexpensive buffalo safaris. Prices are similar to Zimbabwe, a primary difference being that Mozambique is a huge country with poor roads, so charter flights are usually needed. Without question her greatest concentration of buffalo is found in the Marromeu complex south of the mouth of the Zambezi. From perhaps 1200 surviving buffalo in 1992, the current count is 30,000, one of Africa’s greatest concentrations. In recent years, Marromeu buffalo have been captured and moved to less fortunate areas, including around Gorongosa National Park.

I love the swamp buffalo hunting in the Zambezi Delta, but it is not Mozambique’s only good buffalo area. The north, in and around huge Nyasa Reserve, doesn’t have as many buffalo, but produces outstanding bulls. Likewise, the Lower Zambezi, where Mozambique, Zambia, and Zimbabwe join. Mozambique’s long Kruger Park boundary also holds big bulls.

NAMIBIA

Much of Namibia is just too dry for buffalo. More importantly, because of bovine disease concerns, her game ranchers have not been allowed to breed up buffalo like their South African counterparts. As a result, Namibia’s buffalo country is limited, primarily to the Caprivi in the far north, and isolated reserves, such as Waterberg in the northeast. As a result, quotas are low and prices for Namibian buffalo hunts are high. Against this, management is superb and, wherever found, quality is outstanding.

UGANDA

Before Idi Amin came to power, much of Uganda was overrun with buffalo, with up to five on license. Like Mozambique, little was left when the dust settled. The difference: Hunting resumed in Uganda just a dozen years ago, and only in isolated pockets. Those pockets are good and have gotten better, with recovery ongoing. Uganda’s hotspot for buffalo is the famous Karamoja region in the far north. On the South Sudan border, Kidepo National Park holds more than 10,000 buffaloes, with hunting areas to the south.

Northern Uganda buffalo are classed as Nile buffalo, a bit smaller than Cape buffalo, with flatter horns. Realistically, Kenya lies just over the ridge from Karamoja, and Kenya was famous for big bulls. Karamoja’s buffaloes are unquestionably a mix, but she produces good bulls. Maybe not the biggest in either body or horn, but for those who crave a “40-inch” bull, Karamoja is one of the best places I’ve seen. It’s important to time it when the grass is short. In March, I’ve never seen a place where I could look over more bachelor groups. Many bulls are flat and narrow but in the mix are gorgeous bulls with spreads into the low forties.

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