The advice to fight back when attacked by a black bear is almost always wrong.                                             

Photo above by Vic Schendel: A bear behaving in a defensive manner makes threatening noises and mock-charges; a predatory bear, on the other hand, moves quietly and purposefully.

With the North American black bear population closing in on a million animals and more people than ever living and recreating in bear country, conflicts between humans and bears are at an all-time high in many areas of the U.S and Canada. Although the subject of potential black bear danger has never been more germane, it is muddled by misinformation, confusion, and outright error. As I pointed out in part one of this article, a careful look at the best facts and studies shows that, despite some extreme and opposing beliefs, black bears are neither “mostly harmless pests,” nor are they “relentlessly predatory killers of people.” They do need to be taken seriously as powerful, intelligent animals that can sometimes be dangerous. 

In this column I want to look at more key facts and, with expert help, discuss the best ways to handle various encounters and attack scenarios. First, I need to review some essential bear-safety terminology, so that what comes next can be fully understood and applied in the field. Particularly important is the distinction between defensive interactions and attacks and non-defensive ones. A defensive bear is one that feels threatened in some way, and is attacking (or putting on an aggressive display, maybe false-charging) to eliminate the threat. This might be a sow protecting her cubs, or a lone animal that feels hemmed in or encroached upon, as when someone suddenly appears too close. With grizzlies (brown bears), protecting a food source like a carcass might be another common defensive trigger, though this doesn’t seem to occur often with black bears. 

“Non-defensive”–a rather clunky term–is a bear that does not feel threatened, is not defending itself, but is approaching you by its own volition. It could be merely curious, looking for food, dominance testing, or–most rarely–coming at you as a predator. Brown bears, being more aggressive and easily triggered, make more defensive attacks than black bears. (An “attack” is when actual contact is made–not merely a charge.) And because they are fiercer and often larger animals, brown bears more frequently kill people or cause severe injury during defensive attacks.

However, according to a recent study by Janel Marie Scharhag, of 210 non-fatal black bear attacks occurring in contiguous America between 2000 and 2017, more than half (52 percent) were defensive, and most of these were by females with cubs. The majority resulted in minor injuries, but a significant 19 percent were rated “severe.” Interestingly, of attempted predatory attacks (only 15 percent of the total, nearly all by male bears), just 12 percent had severe-injury outcomes. These findings have a number of implications, but one of them is that defensive assaults by female black bears, and especially sows with cubs, are worth taking seriously as a potential danger. 

A few more relevant facts from Scharhag’s study will help prepare us for practical readiness in the field. For instance, 69 percent of attacks occurred in “frontcountry” (vs. backcountry) locations. Frontcountry includes “wildland-urban interface” (WUI) settings and accounts for a large portion of human-bear conflict situations, such as bears attacking people in their front yards or garages, and in such unlikely places as Pasadena or suburban New Jersey. 

Attacks in frontcountry and WUI settings also make one wonder about the old “99 percent of bears don’t want trouble with people” cliche, since these places are also prime locations for the serious problems of habituation and/or food-conditioning. A food-conditioned bear is one accustomed to finding human-created edibles in state parks, campgrounds, picnic areas, garbage dumpsters, alleys with trash cans, and backyards with birdfeeders, compost piles, pet food, and other consumables; while an habituated bear–which might also be food-conditioned–is one that no longer has a natural fear of people, no longer feels the need to run away and perhaps is willing to move closer, or move someone aside, to seek a meal or whatever else it desires. Scharhag found that food or garbage “attractants” were present at 64 percent of attack locations, and that in 74 percent of attacks there had been a prior “food reward” for the bear or previous evidence that a bruin was using the area. This was especially true (93 percent of the time) with attacks that occurred while someone was camping–which is further proof that keeping a “clean camp” (no food, food odors, garbage, or other attractants nearby) is vital. Camping was the most common activity of attack victims (44 percent), followed, rather surprisingly, by being at home (21 percent). Seventy-three percent of those attacked while camping were in a tent. A common scenario was someone waking up while being bitten through the tent wall when a body part (usually leg, arm, or head) was pushing out against the fabric. The bear detects the bulge, investigates, and takes a bite, which might be more exploratory than predatory. Usually a shout or involuntary scream drives the animal away, but injuries, sometimes serious, do occur–which is why I make it a habit and advise others to keep all body parts at least one foot away from tent walls when bedding down for the night. 

Turning now to actual black bear encounters, I must warn that this is a subject fraught with misconceptions, misinformation, and outright bad advice, including from “authority” sources such as some biologists and spokespeople for state and national agencies, advice that can get, and probably has already gotten, people severely injured or killed. Space doesn’t allow sharing the many quotes I could offer here, but the most frequently repeated instructions are that when encountering a black bear one should “be aggressive and loud, yell, wave your arms, throw things,” to intimidate the animal; and if attacked, “never play dead or the bear will keep attacking or feed on you; always fight back as hard as you can…” and so on.

Since the advice on this topic is so muddled, I sought the aid of a longtime friend and bear mentor, John Hechtel, to make sure I was untangling things correctly. John has been a bear specialist and biologist in Alaska for more than forty years, and has lectured and advised widely on bear science and safety. 

He immediately agreed that sane information on bear attacks, and black bears specifically, is badly needed.

“I’ve been frustrated about the [advice] to play dead with a grizzly and [always] fight a black bear,” he said, “especially after we’ve tried to stress that it’s not the species, but whether the bear is acting defensively or not. There is ample evidence that grizzlies can be at least as predatory [toward humans] as black bears, and black bear defensive attacks, often provoked by dogs, are also well-documented.”

Defensive black bears, feeling threatened, tend to do one of two things: run away (or scoot up a nearby tree, which is another form of escaping), or put on an aggressive show. If you unintentionally startle a sow with cubs, the bear might react by huffing, grunting, growling, clacking its teeth, ground-swatting, or even making one or more false charges, swerving away well before contact. But–and this is key–with a defensive bear of any species, the last thing you want is to increase the sense of threat by doing what is usually advised: yell, get large, wave your arms, and throw rocks or sticks. The bear is already disturbed and is responding aggressively; there’s no sense in possibly escalating that aggression into a full-blown attack.

“I’m a firm believer in the ‘stand your ground’ approach,” says Hechtel. “The simplest and best thing to do in most encounters is to do very little.” This precludes shouting, arm-waving, or trying to run away or climb a tree. If you can slow down the interaction, that’s all to the good; it tends to make the bear less sure of itself. 

“Above all,” he says, “don’t overreact [by running, screaming, etc.]; don’t make things worse.” Even if a bruin is charging or running at you, the longer you stand still (preferably with bear spray or other weapon ready to deploy), the better the chances it will stop short or veer off without making contact. 

But what if it keeps coming and actually knocks you down? The most common advice is to fight back as hard as you can and “never play dead with a black bear,” but Hechtel disagrees. Once again, with a defensive attack, the idea is to remove the sense of threat; fighting back does the opposite. Sharhag’s findings support this. In a large number of defensive-attack incidents when the person fought back, the injury-outcomes were significantly more severe than when the person did not fight back. Sharhag concludes that when a black bear is “acting defensively, playing dead is more effective at stopping an attack and results in less severe injuries.”

But what about those occasional cases where a bear seemed to turn predatory after a person tried to play dead? I admit these had me wondering. But Hechtel made an important point: “I think you have to distinguish between appropriate play-dead scenarios versus people doing it prematurely, or with non-defensive bears. People wrongly playing dead definitely have resulted in predatory attacks, but rarely from defensive to predatory.” 

An example of “wrong” would be someone who flops down and lies still before a bear has touched them. That virtually invites the animal to come closer and investigate, possibly take an exploratory bite, and then shift to predatory or scavenger-feeding mode. The time to drop is only after a defensive bear has actually hit you and is knocking you down. Then you follow play-dead protocol. (Face down on your stomach, legs partly spread for stability, hands interlaced behind your neck and lower skull.)

There are some instances where this strategy fails, Hechtel admits, “but far fewer cases than where fighting defensive bears resulted in extended attacks and more serious injuries. If 90-plus percent of the time playing dead works best, that’s the best advice you can give for a defensive attack where either a black or brown bear makes contact. You’re playing the odds, but going with much better odds. The numbers of cases where this fails are small and are the exceptions, as far as we can tell.” 

Hechtel adds an important proviso: “I also think the need to ever play dead with either species is very rare, not a commonplace response to common bear confrontations. Standing your ground with apparent confidence is huge. And access to a deterrent, which can give people the confidence to do the right thing, is also huge.”

What about “non-defensive” and particularly the less common predatory attacks? Studies by Stephen Herrero and others have shown that the behaviors initially displayed in these cases are quite different and recognizable. Instead of the noise–huffing, teeth-clacking, growling–and visible agitation of a startled or defensive animal, predatory bears (most often lone males) are usually quiet, purposeful, and intent. They might approach directly, with a steady plod, looking right at you; or they might half-circle as they watch and assess, and then close in. Attacks can be fast and silent until contact. Facing this kind of bear, you might still want to begin with the confident “stand your ground” attitude, to see if that alone dissuades the animal by showing you are not going to be timid, easy prey. If the bear keeps approaching, now is the time to put on your own aggressive display, raising your arms to look large, yelling in a deep (not shrill) voice, throwing things and picking up or using a weapon, however crude. You do not play dead with a non-defensive or predatory bear (of any species); you fight back as hard as you can, even if only with fists and fingernails, going for the sensitive nose and eyes. 

With any incoming bear, the best remedy is to have a proper “deterrent” at hand. Pepper spray works on black bears and it’s wise to keep a canister within easy reach. According to one study, spray has about a 90 percent efficacy at stopping aggressive behaviors with both defensive and non-defensive animals. As for handguns, they can be effective if you can deploy one quickly and hit what you’re aiming at despite the surprise and fear and adrenaline of the moment. One problem even then is the lethality factor. With a sow and cubs (the most likely to make a defensive charge or attack), would you rather shoot or spray the bear away? I’d rather spray and have everyone live happily ever after. This also involves much less trouble than dealing with a wounded or dead bruin, legal issues, orphaned cubs, and so on. I would, however, prefer to have an appropriate handgun available for dealing with an animal that breaks into a tent, camper, or dwelling, and for aggressive night-bears in general.

 A closing thought: Focusing on a specific danger can enlarge it out of actual proportion. So I want to offer a bit of perspective by noting that, while I’ve come upon hundreds of black bears over the years, the vast majority of such experiences don’t even merit the term “encounter.” More like “sightings,” or “fleeting meetings.” I’ve had a few tense moments, but outside of assisting with problem-bear management situations, I’ve only had to draw my spray or gun twice, without firing either time. So clearly, black bears are not a dire threat one need constantly fear or worry about. But they are powerful, opportunistic forager/predators, and they definitely can be dangerous. Anyone who venture outdoors in bear country is well-advised to keep this fundamental reality in mind. 

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Much of what you’ve heard from “experts” about black bears is wrong.

Photo above by Vic Schendel

How dangerous are black bears? Do they really pose a significant threat to humans, or are they a benign species that wants little to do with people, except perhaps to cadge food from them when an opportunity arises?

These apparently simple questions evoke conflicting responses. On one side are those who believe “there’s no need to be concerned or worried about black bears. They aren’t like grizzlies, which are to be feared. Black bears can be pests around a camp, but they aren’t dangerous or aggressive and rarely if ever harm anyone.” Some professional biologists seem to concur, offering assurances that black bears “just don’t want to attack people. They’re basically timid animals. Ninety-nine percent of them will run away at the sight of a person.”

On the other side are those who say that black bears are extremely dangerous; they actually attack and kill more people than grizzlies and are much more predacious. In fact, according to one writer, “when black bears attack it is almost always an act of predation.” Meaning: the bears consider humans prey and attack to kill for food.

Who’s right? I will try to attempt a few clarifications of this rather confusing subject, which is more relevant than ever, since both black bear numbers and human/bear conflicts are at an all-time high. 

There is no doubting that Ursus americanus is thriving throughout most of its range, which has expanded to include 41 American states and all but one Canadian province. The overall population estimate is now about 900,000 to 950,000 bears. Regionally, black bear numbers have not merely increased in many areas, they’ve multiplied in Malthusian fashion. A comparatively small and largely unwild state like New Jersey has seen its bear count leap from around 100 in the 1970s to nearly 3,500 by 2015. Tennessee went from “scarce” to harboring about 4,800 or more animals; neighboring North Carolina holds an abundant 20,500. Colorado now has as many as 20,000 bruins, up more than 5,000 in a handful of years, and the population is growing in many areas of the state. There are about 35,000 black bears in California. This is a mere sampling of an ursid population expansion that continues across much of the country.

Along with the large increase in bears has come a substantial increase in “human/bear conflicts” throughout most of the species’ range.

In 2015, Colorado had more than 1,200 reports of “problem bears.” By 2020, there were already more than 1,800 bear reports recorded by mid-July. From 2019 to the end of 2020, Colorado Parks and Wildlife received 879 calls about bears breaking into homes, dwellings, or garages. In New Jersey, a biologist said, “Conflicts are a daily occurrence. We’ve got bears everywhere you can possibly imagine, in places you can’t believe.” Florida (about 3,000 bears) recorded 5,584 human/bear conflicts in 2015, including what has been termed “a surge” in attacks, a few of which were labeled “violent maulings.” 

It’s worth noting that many so-called conflicts are nothing more than reports of a bear walking across someone’s lawn or tipping over a garbage can. These incidents aren’t meaningless, but it’s important not to confuse them with attacks, yet another word that lacks consistent usage even among biologists and agency managers. But by most definitions, and speaking generally, violent black bear encounters with humans are on the rise, and the variety of scenarios is rather astonishing: Bears biting people through tent walls;  ripping tents open and dragging someone out; breaking into hard-sided, occupied campers; bursting through cabin or home doors; smashing through a glass or screen window to attack a person on the other side; grabbing a man off of his front porch; attacking someone’s dog and then turning on the human who tries to interfere, and so on. Some biologists and bear defenders want to downplay or even deny these realities, and some people in the press or elsewhere want to exaggerate or sensationalize them out of proportion. I am pro-bear, but I believe in finding the truth, which lies somewhere in the middle of these two extremes.

It seems only fair to add that there are now 331 million humans occupying the United States, with more and more of us living and recreating in bear country. Mix a lot more bears with a lot more people, and it’s unsurprising that the result is a surge in “conflicts.” Especially when, as more than one biologist has noted, a high percentage of “bear problems” are more accurately described as people problems–involving those who unknowingly or carelessly do wrong things–often with food, trash or other attractants–that invite conflicts. That is not to deny, however, that there are many cases where a person does nothing wrong and still has trouble–sometimes very serious trouble–with a bear.

This brings us to the actual realities of potential black bear danger, about which there is so much conflicting opinion and misinformation. I’ll start by looking at fatalities, the number of humans killed by black bears and what we can learn from these types of attacks, while also identifying some widespread, mistaken interpretations that have been made from fatal-attack studies. This topic is particularly apropos at the moment, for during the writing of this column (May 2021), came the sad news of the death of 39-year-old Laney Malavolta, who was killed while walking with her two dogs on a private trail north of Durango, Colorado. She was attacked by a sow black bear with two yearling cubs, and her body was partially consumed. The bears were soon tracked and euthanized. A necropsy found human remains in the stomachs of the sow and one of the cubs. 

There have been a number of fatal-attack black bear studies, but one of the most influential was published in 2011 by Stephen Herrero, Andrew Higgins, et al. Herrero, author of the foundational book, Bear Attacks: Their Causes and Avoidance (1985, revised 2002), focused this paper on deadly encounters that occurred from 1900-2009. He and his team found that “at least 63 people were killed in 59 incidents by non-captive black bears” in North America.(Since 2009 I have personally tallied another 13 human deaths, bringing the unofficial current total to 76.) Eighty-six percent of these fatal attacks happened between 1960 and 2009. This could indicate a rising trend in deadly bear assaults, but could also be a result of poor record-keeping in the first half of the twentieth century.

Now comes the standout finding that so many have seized upon: “We judged that the bear involved acted as a predator in 88 percent (49 of 56) of fatal incidents . . . [lone] male bears were involved in 92 percent (33 of 36) of fatal predatory incidents . . . [this] shows that females with young are not the most dangerous black bears.” 

Citing these findings, the writer I quoted earlier wrote, “when black bears attack, it is almost always an act of predation.” Also: “the majority of attacks on humans by black bears are predatory in nature.” Many others have said much the same thing, which is a major and serious mistake of the kind that might be called “erroneous extrapolation.” Herrero’s study did not find that 88 percent of all black bear attacks were predatory, he found that was true only of fatal attacks, which comprise just a fraction of all attack numbers. If in fact 88 percent of all black bear attacks were predatory, we would be counting annual bear-caused human deaths in substantial double digits instead of the actual low single-digit figure.

In an unpublished preliminary study, biologist John Hechtel made some very interesting and informative computations. His look at “35 Years of Bear Attacks in Alaska, 1980-2014,” showed the following: Recorded attacks by brown bears: 178, with 196 victims (indicating some multiple-person attacks by a single bear) and 15 fatalities; compared to black bears: 20 attacks, 21 victims, and 3 fatalities. (As a side note: hunters were the second-highest category of all bear-attack victims, numbering 59. The highest category, general “recreating,” had 89 victims.) One of Hechtel’s important conclusions is that “black bears [are] not more predatory [than brown or polar bears]. Predatory attacks were less than 10 percent of total.” 

In another study, Herrero and Hank Hristienko found 92 serious attacks occurring across Canada and the U.S. from 2010 to 2013. Attack numbers rose annually, from 19 in 2010 to 32 in 2013. Data showed that, despite common belief, the size of a bear is not indicative of its potential danger or likelihood to attack. In the earlier study, Herrero found 23 adult and 10 sub-adult male bears involved in fatal attacks. My personal case-history files include many instances of small bears–120 pounds or less–making deadly or severe assaults. According to one biologist, any bear 100 pounds or over is capable of killing an unarmed adult human. Herrero has remarked that young male bears might be even more prone to violent engagement than older, larger ones. “Young males . . . are more risk-taking and more aggressive, and that’s definitely the pattern here. It fits bears and men and a number of other species.”

An important new, not-yet-published study by Janel Marie Scharhag at the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point is the first to focus solely on non-fatal black bear attacks, and reveals some fresh and illuminating information. Scharhag examined 210 agency-confirmed attacks that occurred in the 48 conterminous United States from 2000 to 2017. She defined “attack” as intentional/purposeful contact initiated by a bear on one or more humans, resulting in human injury. She did not include violent encounters that weren’t started by the bear, such as if a hunter wounded an animal which then mauled the hunter, or if someone kicked a bear that was fighting with his dog, or if a person got foolishly close while taking a photo. 

Of the 210 attacks, 52 percent were defensive. (A defensive attack is one in which the bear reacts to feeling threatened in some way.) Eighty-five percent of defensive attacks were by female bears, 91 percent of them sows with cubs. Further, only 15 percent of all black bear attacks were predatory (and 95% of those were by male bears). I’ve added emphasis where the findings contradict or refute widespread claims and beliefs such as: “Most black bear attacks are predatory,” and “females and sows with cubs aren’t dangerous and rarely attack people.” Note also the disparity between Herrero’s conclusion regarding fatal attacks: “females with young are not the most dangerous black bears” and the non-fatal findings, where sows with cubs are a real threat. This provides yet another lesson in both the complexity and subtleties of the bear-danger/safety subject, and bolsters the need to be careful when extrapolating or generalizing.

Scharhag also labeled a “new” behavioral category she calls “other,” which accounted for the remaining 33 percent of attacks. (80 percent of these were by male bears.) An example of “other” would be a bear that approaches a camp, swats a person aside, grabs some food and leaves. The bear isn’t “predatory,” (trying to prey on someone), and it isn’t “defensive,” (defending itself from a perceived threat). In existing terminology most experts would include this type of behavior in the “non-defensive” category, about which more later.

An “anthropogenic” (human-caused) attractant such as food or garbage was present at 64 percent of attack locations. Attacks occurred during the day but more often (61 percent) at night. Thirty-three percent of all attacks were labeled “severe.” Another important finding is that a domestic dog was involved in 25 percent of attack scenarios. Often this was a person walking with a dog and surprising a female bear, especially a sow with cubs. The bear chased or attacked the dog and then turned on the person. These cases often resulted in severe attacks, and this seems to be what happened with Laney Malavolta near Durango. 

It’s obvious that black bears are neither “mostly harmless pests,” nor are they “relentlessly predatory killers of people.” They need to be taken seriously as powerful, intelligent animals that can sometimes be dangerous. 

In part two of this article, I will explain the right moves for handling encounters; discuss effective self-defense options, and examine the best ways to respond if you are attacked by a black bear.  Read it here.              

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Africa’s second-largest antelope often takes hunters by surprise.

Photo above: Horn and body shape and face mask confirm that the roan and sable are closely related, but the roan is much larger, with shorter, thicker horns and longer ears. (Photo by Dirk de Bod)

Recently, in another publication, I noticed a photo with a caption that misidentified a roan antelope as a sable. Hey, I’m sure the writer knew what he shot, and the editor knows the difference. We all have mental malfunctions! Roan and sable antelopes are cousins of genus Hippotragus, with similar body build, white face mask, and heavily ringed curving horns carried by both sexes. Ideal country doesn’t vary a lot, mixed habitat with both savanna and woodland. 

That’s pretty much where the similarities end, however. The light-colored roan is not as strikingly beautiful as the glossy black sable bull, but he is larger in body, with shorter, thicker horns and longer ears. He is also the more difficult pursuit. Roan antelope gather in smaller groups, and are somewhat more likely to be found in heavier cover. The roan has a larger range, almost throughout sub-Saharan Africa, excepting only the heart of the forest, deepest swamps, and tallest mountains. They are nomadic, and plentiful almost nowhere.

Game ranchers in Namibia and South Africa have done a good job of breeding both sable and roan, making both species more affordable and available. In wild Africa, a good roan is a hard-won prize. They seem more sensitive to man’s intrusion than sable, or perhaps just not as prolific, with fewer hunting opportunities. I have seen roan in Botswana, Mozambique, and Zimbabwe, but in all three countries they have been protected throughout my career. Native and free-range roan are currently on license in northern Namibia, Zambia, and Tanzania, as well as in C.A.R., Cameroon, Benin, and Burkina Faso.

The sable antelope is divided into three more or less distinct races: The giant sable (bigger horns and different facial markings), with a postage-stamp range in Angola, and the smaller, slightly reddish Roosevelt sable along the Indian Ocean coast from northern Mozambique to Kenya. All the rest are “common sable.” With roan, the “lumpers” held sway, identifying several regional groupings that, to my eye, are indistinguishable. I am unlikely to ever see an Angolan or Sudan roan! Most widespread, and today most numerous, is the southern roan. The East African roan is currently hunted only in Tanzania. Largest is the western race, which possibly earns the roan its oft-cited title as “Africa’s second-largest antelope.” Rowland Ward’s minimums vary but little: 26 inches for the Angolan race; 26.5 inches for East African and southern; and 27 inches for Sudan and western roan.

The western roan occupies a huge range, from C.A.R. all the way to Senegal, but is usually not common. We saw tracks in southern Chad and also on my first bongo safari in C.A.R., down in the southeast corner, far from typical habitat. In four safaris to C.A.R. I never saw a decent roan, although that country is one of the good places. I finally got a western roan in northern Cameroon in 2004. Hunting in the Mayo Oldiri and adjoining Mayo Nduell blocks, we saw shootable roan bulls almost every day. PH Guav Johnson kept telling me to pass. Reluctantly, I did, and was rewarded with a whopper.

I was there again in 2008 and saw several good bulls without hunting for roan. So, northern Cameroon is a good place, and almost the best place I’ve seen. In 2014, Donna and I hunted in Burkina Faso. There, the roan is the most common large antelope. Multiple daily sightings were normal, and Donna got a fine bull. Sadly, hunting in Burkina Faso was shut down by terrorist activity. Hopefully it will reopen, but I understand Benin, just to the south, is as good for roan.

In Burkina Faso they try to recover animals whole, recording weights and measurements. So, I know for a fact that Donna’s roan weighed 653 pounds. A big greater kudu bull can weigh more, as can a big bongo. The roan’s title as Africa’s second-largest antelope is thus disputable. Hers was a prime bull with good horns, but I’ve seen roan bulls that I judged heavier by at least a hundred pounds. For sure, though, the roan is one of the largest antelopes!

In Tanzania, roan don’t occur in most Masailand blocks, nor in Selous. Western Tanzania is good but they’re thinly dispersed. Hunting with Geoff Broom on the upper Ugalla in 1993, we saw tracks, but no roan. In 2010, I spent three weeks in Rungwa, also very good for roan. We weren’t after roan, but we never saw a single one.  Hunting with Jaco Oosthuizen in Kigosi, east of Moyowasi, an East African roan was my primary goal. On about the tenth day, we found a small herd with a big bull, almost got him that evening but it got too dark. We found them again the next morning, finally getting a shot in the early afternoon.

In the right place, Zambia is excellent for roan, and over the years Zambia has been good to me. On my first hunt there in 1983, we bumped into a small herd in hilly country above the Luangwa Valley. It wasn’t a great bull, but for many years it was my only roan. As I approached it, I’ll never forget old Bill Illingsworth’s shouted warning: “Stay away from that thing!” I’ve never forgotten: Roan are fierce antelopes, and they know how to use those needle-sharp horns.

In 1996, hunting the Mulobezi block off to the west near Kafue Park, we saw no roan until nearly the end. PH Russ Broom insisted the conditions were right and they should be moving in. He was correct; on the next to last day, we hunted a grassy area up in the northern corner. Sure enough, I got a nice bull . . . barely. The shot was quick, but wasn’t as good as it looked. A poor blood trail took us through tall grass. We weren’t certain we were still on the spoor when the bull jumped up in front of us and streaked away. I got him down. Next morning, with a charter due, the rest of us packed up while Bob Petersen went out for one last try for a roan. They came back at noon with a beautiful roan, taken with a very long shot with his .300 Jarrett.

Sable antelope are difficult to see in shadows, but their dark, shiny coats stand out like beacons in open country. Roan antelope vary in color from light sand to brown to rufous or “strawberry roan.” To my eye, they are much better camouflaged under all circumstances, and more difficult to spot. For sure, I find it more difficult to pick out a bull. With sable, only mature bulls are really black; cows and young bulls are lighter. With roan, bulls and mature females are pretty much the same color. With both species, you must look for the larger-bodied males. As with most antelopes where both sexes have similar horns, you must look for the bull’s thicker horns. This seems more subtle with roan, but that could be because I haven’t seen nearly as many of them.

With sable, the magic number is 40 inches of horn; with roan, drop 10 inches. A 30-inch roan is the Holy Grail, but it’s a rare prize. As mentioned, Rowland Ward’s minimums are much less than the 30-inch mark, while the sable minimum is 42 inches. Shootable and acceptable roans probably start in the mid-twenties, given good mass and the gnarled “secondary growth” of an old bull at the bases. 

It’s difficult to hunt roan on purpose. Especially where they’re relatively uncommon (which is most places), they can pop up anywhere. With knowledge of an area and past sightings, you have some idea where to look first, but a roan can still be anywhere. In my experience, it’s likely to be a mature bull walking alone, suddenly spotted, and someone hisses, “It’s a roan!”

Zambia’s northernmost Luangwa block, Chikwa, is known to produce exceptional roan. When I was there with son-in-law Brad Jannenga in July 2021, PH Davon Goldstone insisted we would get a roan, and he knew of some grassy openings to the north where several herds roamed. We never quite got there because we didn’t need to. Checking baits and looking for buffalo, we saw exactly three roan antelope in three weeks, all solitary bulls. One was young, two were exceptional. We shot the first good one we saw, on a hot midday in thick woodland in the middle of nowhere. Davon hissed “It’s a roan,” and in seconds was setting up sticks. Brad’s bull is the largest southern roan I have ever seen, 30 inches on both horns, massive bases with amazing secondary growth, tips starting to wear. Also, it’s one of the biggest-bodied bulls I’ve seen, heavy enough to suggest that the roan may, in fact, be Africa’s second-largest antelope.

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This member of the “Dangerous Seven” is a worthy adversary, especially if you catch him on land.

On a hunt in the northeastern Central African Republic (CAR) in 1994, every few hours the terminalia forest would be jolted by a rifle shot. Poachers had invaded in organized gangs, drying meat and taking it home to Sudan by camel and donkey caravan. There were no “authorities,” so the outfitter had established an uneasy truce; poachers and legal hunters avoided each other; there were no problems while I was there. The French Foreign Legion would eventually clean things up (repeatedly, over decades), but much damage was done to wildlife.

By this time, the once-numerous elephants were long gone. In this new wave of meat poaching, they first worked their way down the rivers, going after hippos, which are an easy target for poachers. Although huge, a hippo’s skull is fragile. A hippo in its water sanctuary is easily potted by a poacher on the bank, who puts an AK47 bullet in the “target” forehead indentation between and just above the eyes. If the bullet is properly placed, the hippo sinks straight down. Within two hours the carcass will bloat and rise to the surface. It is roped and floated to the shore, and a ton of meat is easily recovered. 

Not so long ago, hippos were endemic along most of Africa’s waterways. With a burgeoning human population, and because hippos are so easily poached, they have nearly vanished from many rivers and lakes. The long-term effects remain to be seen. By eating underwater plants and creating paths, hippos perform an important function in keeping waterways open and flowing.

Fortunately, hippos remain common in many areas, especially in countries that have managed their wildlife well. So, hippos can still be seen daily along river systems such as Chobe, Limpopo, Luangwa, Rufiji, Ugalla, and Zambezi and, in some areas, there are significant concentrations. In my younger days, hippos were often “on license” and available. The major tusks of a big bull hippo, much of the length concealed in the jaw, have always been great prizes, but we didn’t really consider the hippo a “game animal” as such.

Back in the days when a lion was commonly on license, the first step in lion hunting was to secure a hippo as quickly as possible. This remains true today, except that a lion safari is now a costly and specialized undertaking. Also, in areas where hippos are still hunted, quotas are usually small and carefully managed. This has greatly elevated the hippo’s status, with hunting fees usually exceeding costs for hunting buffalo.

In the early days, hunters often spoke of Africa’s “Big Four” of buffalo, lion, rhino, and elephant, excluding the leopard not because it wasn’t dangerous, but based on size. In my time, we added the leopard and called it the “Big Five.” Although the second-largest terrestrial creature (after the elephant), the hippopotamus was never part of either grouping. Today, hunters often speak of Africa’s “Dangerous Seven,” adding hippo and Nile crocodile. This is a good thing, because it has added desirability (and thus value!) to both species.

Without question, the hippo is a large, potentially dangerous, and often ill-tempered brute. It is often said that the hippo is responsible for killing more Africans than any of the rest, sometimes couched as “more than all the rest combined.” I don’t believe this is true; I’ll give that questionable kudo to the crocodile, which still takes people on a near-daily basis along some crocodile-infested rivers.

Even so, the hippo is a real hazard to rural Africans because of its habits. Hippos typically spend most of their days resting in water, but they are grazing animals requiring huge amounts of forage. At night they graze on land, often traveling miles in search of good grass. Early in the morning they return to their water sanctuary, placing them on a collision course with humans, who habitually go to fetch water and wash in the morning.

At night I’ve heard hippos placidly grazing outside my tent in a dozen African camps. No danger, but you wouldn’t go outside and try to pet one. And, you don’t want to get in a hippo’s way if it wants to go somewhere! They charge readily, all chomping jaws and razor-sharp teeth. No such thing as a minor bite from a hippo. Some hippos have attitudes, and take grave exception to small boats intruding in their tranquil waters. The dugout canoe or mokororemains Africa’s primary water craft for fishing and transport; attacks by hippo are not uncommon. My own closest call from an African Big Nasty was a hippo attack on a mokoro. Usually, however, you just need to give them a wide berth.

I totally support the concept of the hippo as a game animal, and as a member of the Dangerous Seven. However, hunting a hippo is usually not a similar experience to stalking buffalo or closing with elephant. It would be, if you could reliably track up or glass and stalk your hippo. In fact, it could be all the excitement you want, and more! On land, in daylight, a hippo is out of its element, and will often charge. If the brain shot is unavailable, or fails, the hippo is a giant bullet sponge, stoppable only with heavy rifles.

Problem is, in most areas it’s uncommon to catch hippos on land in daylight, with the odds ranging from unlikely to nearly impossible. It does happen. Tanzania’s Selous Reserve is famous as a place to find hippos sleeping in the bush far from water. In 1988, looking for buffalo tracks with Paddy Curtis, we found fresh hippo spoor far from known water. We tracked it up and found the bull sleeping in thick bush. As we approached, it heard us, woke up, and immediately charged. Plenty exciting!

I have no idea why this is commonplace there; it must occur in other areas, but only the Selous is well-known for “hippos in the bush.” In the Zambezi Valley, we occasionally encountered hippos far from the river; not common, but it happens. Often, and in many areas, a lone hippo—usually a younger bull—will take possession of a small waterhole, remaining there so long as there’s enough water to submerge.

Almost anywhere, individuals, or an entire hippo pod, will occasionally climb out onto a bank where a stalk is possible. In my experience, this seems most common on a cloudy day. Whenever you catch hippos on land, you can seize the moment, but it’s not an event you can count on. Most commonly, if you want a hippo—or if you urgently need a hippo quarter for a lion or crocodile bait—you have little choice but to catch them near shore in their sanctuary; be patient and take the brain shot.

I am not in any way against this; absent a bit of luck, that’s the way it’s usually done. Also, if you want a big bull hippo with large tusks, taking them in water isn’t just the most selective option; it’s almost the only way to be certain. Hippos are difficult to judge, and a lone hippo is almost impossible. In a pod, resting in sanctuary, it takes patience and time, sometimes hours.

You look first for sheer size. Then, as the heads pop up to breathe, you look for prominent bumps on the upper lip on both sides of the nostrils. These are actually pockets sheathing the sharp ends of the major tusks. Bigger the bumps, bigger the tusks. Eventually, if you’re patient enough, the hippos will shift around and partially surface, exposing prominent and identifiable scars. Male hippos fight ferociously. With more patience and luck, a hippo will open its mouth to yawn and call, and you can actually see the tusks.

Now, with a bull identified, more patience and a steady shooting position is required. Eventually, the hippo will surface enough to offer a proper brain shot: Frontally, between and just above the eyes, in that weird target-like indentation. From the side, base of ear. The shot is tricky and must be precise. I’m not denigrating the practice; typically, this is the way it’s done, and there is often no option. But, let’s be clear: The hippo is in the water; the shooter is dry. There is no danger.

If the brain shot is executed correctly, the hippo sinks with barely a ripple. Two hours later it rises. You have plenty of meat for bait, for the camp, and for a couple of villages. Except that somebody has to go into the murky, crocodile-infested water to secure a line, which requires raw courage mixed with craziness! Water or land, it’s easy to flub the brain shot. Then things happen fast. Be prepared to shoot again instantly. Look for the shoulder, and don’t hesitate!

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Everything you need to know about hunting the various types of wildebeest.

There are two species of wildebeest: the black wildebeest, also called white-tailed gnu; and the blue or brindled wildebeest. The black wildebeest is native to South Africa’s central plains, and prefers much more open country than the blue, so it lay square in the path of Voortrekkers moving up from the Cape. Almost exterminated in those early days, the black wildebeest was almost miraculously saved from extinction by forward-thinking Boer farmers. It is now plentiful on South African game ranches and has been widely introduced into Namibia. The black wildebeest (Connochaetes gnu) has no identified subspecies.

The blue wildebeest (C. taurinus) is common in East and Southern Africa. Several subspecies are identified but, as hunters, we boil them down to four in our record-keeping systems. North to south: white-bearded, Nyasa, Cookson, and blue.

Although they have sharp eyes, wildebeest are generally not among the warier antelopes. The most difficult part is usually picking out a bull. They are nervous, constantly shifting herd animals, and both males and females have horns that, at first glance, appear similar. I think of them of as classic “common game,” offering excellent meat (enough to feed a camp or a village), interesting horns, and gorgeous skins.

By 1988 I had taken black wildebeest and all the races of blue. So, I thought I knew a thing or two about the gnu. Cookson wildebeest has the most limited range and lowest numbers, essentially confined to Zambia’s Luangwa Valley. I was there recently, accompanying son-in-law Brad Jannenga on a hunt in North Luangwa. On about the third day, in need of meat, we ran into a small herd of wildebeest, shadowed in dense mopane. Brad shot a nice old bull, and when we got him out into sunlight, I learned some things I didn’t know.

I took a nice wildebeest in the Luangwa clear back in 1983 and, ever since, have given myself credit for having a Cookson wildebeest. Technically, yes, but mine sure didn’t look like this animal! Mine had some proper color but was not as brilliant. Forty years ago, I didn’t know what to look for. Brad’s bull had a light, very gray background color, with black vertical striping from mid-section forward to neck. In good sunlight, it looked like a cross between an antelope and a zebra. So, what I didn’t know: The light color with dark striping defines Cookson wildebeest.

We were in the northernmost concession of the Luangwa Valley. The true, proper Cookson wildebeest is really a North Luangwa animal and occupies a small range. As you move south, it merges into the common blue wildebeest.

The white-bearded wildebeest, with light body color, is distinctive with cream-colored neck ruff. Found only in northern Tanzania and southern Kenya, it is possibly the most numerous because of the huge Serengeti migration, but is actually difficult to obtain because Tanzania is the only opportunity, and it does not occur in all Masailand concessions. At the tail end of a 1988 hunt, we caught a herd on the Simanjaro Plain on the edge of Tarangire National Park, and that’s my only white-bearded wildebeest.

Tanzania is also the primary opportunity for Nyasa wildebeest. I’ve never seen them in big herds, but this wildebeest is commonly encountered in Selous Reserve, and ranges from southern Tanzania well down into Mozambique, also native to Malawi (former Nyasaland), but is considered extinct there. The Nyasa wildebeest is the smallest of the blue wildebeest in both body and horn. I’ve shot several in Selous, and they seem to be uniformly milk chocolate in body color. The most distinctive feature is a white nose chevron, not dissimilar from that of a spiral-horn antelope.

The blue wildebeest is the most widespread, relatively common in southern Zambia, Zimbabwe, and Botswana, and throughout much of South Africa and Namibia. Color varies from dark gray (almost blue) to brown with darker striping (the “brindled” effect of its gnu name). Cookson wildebeest is said to be larger in body, but the common blue probably has the largest horns.

With wildebeest you look for mass and curve on the horn but, unlike other antelopes, we commonly speak of blue wildebeest in terms of extreme spread: A “thirty-inch” wildebeest is the Holy Grail and a rare prize. I shot such a bull in Botswana’s Okavango clear back in 1985. One of the best (or luckiest) shots I ever made; I was shooting an open-sighted .318 Westley Richards, distance about 250 yards. The big bull collapsed on the spot, but I doubt I could repeat such a shot–certainly not today with iron sights!

The black wildebeest is quite different in color, body shape, and horn configuration, clearly deserving of its separate species identification. It is uniformly dark brown to almost black, with a weird forehead brush like a Mohawk hairdo. It is slightly smaller, and the shoulders aren’t as massive as the blue wildebeest. The horns are totally different, and differentiating males from females is more difficult. Bulls have huge bosses nearly together in the center, the horns coming straight down and then curving up into long tips. My first was in 1979, a top-ranking bull back then, when South Africa was just opening up and the black wildebeest was in short supply. Now they are common and that bull would be very average. I’ve only shot one more.  

Wildebeest are sometimes described as “the poor man’s buffalo” and “clown of the African bush.” I don’t like such appellations, but neither are completely inaccurate. As to the former, wildebeest are not remotely dangerous! They are, however, buffalo-like in shape and it takes experience to sort bulls from cows. As with buffalo, we look at thickness of bosses or bases and shape. With the brindled gnus, like buffalo, we also look at spread.

As to the latter, the wildebeest puts on the weirdest antics. For no apparent reason, bulls will suddenly put their heads down and canter around in circles. This erratic behavior caused the early Dutch settlers in South Africa to name them “wild beast.”

There’s no peril to hunting wildebeest, but they are buffalo-strong, in my view one of the hardiest antelopes, and also larger than they appear at distance. A big blue wildebeest bull can weigh a quarter ton and, pound for pound, is tougher than its size.

Like all the antelopes with exaggeratedly tall shoulders, the greatest risk and most common error is to hit them too high. Concentrate on a third up from the brisket line and there should be no problem, but hit a wildebeest poorly and you can expect a long tracking job! I’ve never lost a wildebeest, but that’s only through great tracking (and some luck). I’ve had some very long days following wildebeest that were hit less than perfectly.

One, on Barry Burchell’s place in southern Namibia, was shot with a .264 and recovered miraculously six hours later. The first shot was frontal, right height, but I wavered off center just a bit. Not a matter of not enough gun, but not a good enough shot! With proper shot placement, I’ve seen big-bodied blue wildebeest taken cleanly with .260 Remington, 7mm-08, and 7×57. Of course, the .270 Winchester, faster 7mms, and .30-calibers are just fine.

That said, I have huge respect for wildebeest, and I’ve wasted a lot of precious hunting time tracking them. So, if I happen to have a .375 on hand, I’m happy to use it when there’s a wildebeest in the offing.

Years ago, in Namibia, Dirk de Bod and I spotted a herd in late afternoon. There was a nice bull in there; we stalked them endlessly, trying to get him in the clear. Sunset came and went, and the light was going fast when I finally got a shot. That’s a risky time to shoot anything, but especially such a notoriously tough animal. The herd bomb-shelled at the shot, and the direction of the bull was unclear and no blood was obvious in the growing dusk. Fortunately, I was carrying a .338 stoked with 250-grain bullets. We were just about to call for the truck and get flashlights when I stumbled over the bull, stone dead. It had only gone fifty yards.     

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An Update on Mozambique’s 24 Lions Project

Photo above by Mark Haldane

In 2018, Brad Fitzpatrick first reported in Sports Afield about a project he termed “the largest wild lion transfer across an international border in African history.” 

The brainchild of safari outfitter/professional hunter Mark Haldane, who worked with partners including neighboring concession holder Alvaro Rola and the Ivan Carter Wildlife Conservation Alliance, the 24 Lions Project was a year’s long undertaking in the planning that resulted in the transportation and reintroduction of lions back into the Zambezi Delta area of Mozambique, with little precedent and no practical model for predicting success. Made possible by funding from the Cabela Family Foundation, the project just celebrated its third anniversary. I was in Mozambique recently to find out how things were going.

As we buzzed high over the Zambezi Delta, I felt like I was wearing the tiny R-22 helicopter more than flying in it. Mark Haldane, Zambeze Delta Safaris owner, and I were flying out in search of one of the lion prides wandering the one million acres of revitalized Mozambiquan wilderness known as Coutada 11. Would we be successful in finding the elusive top-tier predator? We would know in 30 minutes or so.

From interviews with the head of the scientific team, Willem Briers-Louw, as well as Haldane himself, I had already learned that some of the original 24 lions released three years ago in Coutadas 10 and 11 had died from natural causes or through poaching.

The good news was that those who survived had quickly disbursed across the vast landscape and established eight prides from which 24 lions had today grown to 60 cats strong. 

On our flight today, Haldane and I were searching for the most successful single pride of the project, a group known as the Tembe Pride.

The Disappearing Act of the Tembe Pride

Spotting a pride of lions in their native landscape is not as easy as it sounds, even from the vantage point of a helicopter. In fact, the very same pride that Haldane and I were trying to locate today had a knack for staying out of sight.

Named after their point of origin, Tembe Elephant Park in South Africa, the Tembe Pride – originally consisting of four females – disappeared for an entire year after release from the wire-and-wood acclimatization boma where they were held upon arrival in Mozambique. Though a fair proportion of the 24 introduced lions wore electronic collars, there were not enough to go around, and none of the Tembe lionesses sported a collar. 

There was good reason to be concerned for the safety of the Tembe lions after their release. Humans and their traps and snares were the main cause of death among the original 24 animals. Though the anti-poaching efforts of the hunting operators in the region have been wonderfully successful, the same is not true for adjoining areas. Had the Tembe females wandered out of the hunting area and into the poachers’ gin traps and metal snares? As the months went past, it seemed more and more likely that the four Tembe lionesses were not just missing, but dead.

The break in the case of the disappeared Tembe pride came like all good detective yarns, involving an unexplained observation. Briers-Louw and his colleagues had noticed for some time that lions were making kills in a localized area – frequently from the many warthogs occupying the floodplains. However, the scientists were unsuccessful in spotting any lions in this region, either from the ground or the air. The million dollar question was: Which pride was responsible for the kills? 

Then one day the guides were driving out to the floodplain in the late afternoon to relax and have a sundowner. The last thing on their minds was spotting the Tembe Pride, but as they rounded a patch of vegetation, not 150 yards away outlined against the brilliant red horizon were the four missing-in-action lionesses. The scientists now knew that the Tembe pride had survived, and importantly, they were able to dart and collar two of the females so they could now keep tabs on the pride’s whereabouts.

Within a week of their rediscovering the Tembe Pride, the scientists realized that a resident Mozambiquan male lion was with them, and, remarkably, two of the females were carrying cubs. Within a few months, the two pregnant females formed a den nearby in a place nicknamed Beto’s Island. When the scientists checked on the two females a short time later, they discovered not only the lionesses, but also seven chubby, rollicking young cubs. A few months later a third female gave birth to two cubs, and then not long afterwards, the fourth and last female produced a single offspring. The Tembe Pride now boasts the original four lionesses and 10 half- to two-thirds grown cubs.

The Hapless Karongwe Pride

If Tembe is the most successful group from the original 24 Lions reintroduction, the Karongwe Pride is the one that has been through the greatest struggles, including several tragedies. The two Karongwe lionesses making up this pride came from the Karongwe Animal Preserve near Kruger National Park. The two females failed to produce cubs the first year after their release. With other lionesses able to reproduce, Briers-Louw and his team wondered whether or not the females might be infertile.

The concern over the lack of conception soon took a backseat to the possibility that one of the females might die. On one of his helicopter patrols, Haldane happened to cross over into a neighboring area. He spotted one of the Karongwe females wandering there, and noticed that she seemed to be in some sort of difficulty. When Mark radioed his camp for help, the scientists and veterinarians rushed to the area and found the lioness with a snare encircling her body. Its ever-tightening construction had buried the snare to a depth of two inches beneath her skin. Neither the scientists nor veterinarians gave the lioness much chance of survival, but they cleaned the wound, closed the horrible gash with surgical thread and injected her with a large dose of antibiotics. Then they put a GPS collar on her in order to monitor her closely and see if she would recover.

The good news was that the lioness did indeed heal and regain full health. The bad news was that within the month she and her companion lioness returned to the same area, and she once again found herself in a poacher’s wire snare. This time, the snare lodged just above her back left paw. The signals from the lioness’ GPS collar tipped off the crew that she was not moving. The scientists and veterinarian again loaded into the helicopter and made their way to the struggling Karongwe female. When they reached her, they quickly used the hypodermic dart to put her to sleep. Once sedated, they rolled her over and found her back foot swollen to more than double normal size. Left much longer, they would have had no option but to amputate the damaged foot – a not uncommon ending for these types of injuries. Such an amputation could easily have resulted in her removal from the Delta, or eventual euthanasia. But this lioness continued to demonstrate a cat’s nine lives. As she limped away, the team of concerned watchers could only wonder if she would eventually succumb to her unwise wanderings.

While the one Karongwe lioness repeatedly encountered the poachers’ cruelty, the other lioness was having her own tragic struggles. Unlike her companion, the second female from the Karongwe Animal Preserve had been fortunate to avoid poachers. The scientific team was ecstatic when they caught up with her one year after her release and found the lioness playing with her young cub. Unfortunately, their joy was short-lived. Three months later, they located the female, and her cub was no longer with her. Briers-Louw and his team are quick to point out that such losses are “part of the process.” Yet, the catch in their voices when discussing such events communicates the level of pain that such ”natural occurrences” cause for those so invested in the individual animals of the 24 Lions project.

The plight of the Karongwe females continued after the near-loss of one female and the loss of the second female’s first offspring. Six months after the death of the cub, the GPS collars indicated that both females were together and excitingly were showing ”denning behavior,” venturing out and making kills in a small radius and otherwise limiting their movements. 

When the scientists headed out in their helicopter in search of the Karongwe lionesses, they had high hopes of finding the females with more cubs. They were not disappointed. As the helicopter hovered, the two females and a total of four cubs looked up warily at the noisy contraption. One cub belonged to the female who came close to losing her life to snares. The second female had replaced her lost cub with three more young. Sadly, these births also ended in loss. In only a few months, the lionesses’ limited movement patterns – short distances traveled back-and-forth from their den – once again widened to that of adult animals without young. Sure enough, when the team again located the two Karongwe females, they were both cubless.

Then, in August 2020, the Karongwe Pride’s story finally took a turn for the better. The females moved into a game-rich and poacher-free floodplain. Maybe the females’ instincts were changing or maybe they were just beginning to understand the landscape of their new home in Mozambique, but whatever the reason, with the abundance of game, the females became pregnant and each had a litter of three cubs. Though early on, the snared female lost one of her cubs, the remaining five are now 11 months old, and well on their way to becoming adults. The other great news is that one of the dominant males from the original 24 animals has joined the Karongwe females and is acting as the guardian of both lionesses and cubs. Yes, compared to the Tembe Pride, the Karongwe lionesses have traveled a troubled path. But, maybe, just maybe, they have turned a corner.

Stunning Success of the 24 Lions Project

As the travails of the Karongwe Pride indicate, the reintroduction begun in 2018 was not without its challenges. In total, seven of the original 24 adult lions released into the Marromeu Complex died in the first three years. During this same period, 51 births occurred, with nine of the cubs lost. Yet, in a wonderful demonstration of the marriage of great science, substantial funds, and the passion of hunters, the 24 lions introduced in 2018 have nearly tripled in number. Even the number of prides has increased, with the Mac group replicating into three separate active prides. Yes, there has been loss of adults and young to natural causes and poaching, but looked at from all perspectives, the reintroduction has been an incredible success.

Our helicopter trip was wildly successful too. As our search for the Tembe Pride continued under Haldane’s piloting, my heart and breathing rate elevated. Finally, we homed in on the GPS coordinates issuing from the Tembe lions’ GPS collars. And then, there they were below us. Staring up with what looked through the camera lens like irritation mixed with disdain – as if they were thinking, “Here come the bloody tourists again!” – they slowly, slowly slunk from one palmetto patch to the next. Their tawny hides had an iridescent quality in the rays of the morning sun. As they meandered between the temporary hiding places, their muscles rippled and their detachable shoulder blades slid to-and-fro. Simply put, they were animals that left me speechless.

Not wanting to overly upset the lions or overstay our less-than-warm welcome, we left the pride to its wanderings after only 10 minutes. As Mark turned the helicopter back toward the Zambeze Delta Safaris basecamp, I sat in amazement from what I had just experienced. Wild lions are disappearing at an alarming rate across Africa. Not as a result of trophy hunters, but mostly because they get in the way of local humans and suffer the consequences. That trend is not true for the Marromeu Complex under the watchful eyes of hunters and scientists. The number of lions there is increasing at an astonishing rate and they are dispersing across millions of acres of woodland and floodplain. Wild lions have returned and made themselves at home in Mozambique’s Zambezi Delta, thanks to a small group of dedicated people and the vision they share.

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The global 30×30 initiative presents opportunities—and challenges—for the hunting community.

If you read Sports Afield, chances are you hunt and fish. There’s also a good chance you get wind of the constant flow of information about laws, regulations, and legislative proposals that impact your ability to hunt and fish. Depending on how you choose to spend your time in the field or on the water and where you do it, some of these policies impact you and some won’t. Occasionally, something big comes along that has the potential to impact all of it–sometimes for the better and other times not.

With constant buzz of the 24-hour news cycle in the background, it can be tough to keep things straight, but there’s a big one on the horizon. Here’s a quick synopsis—the 30 by 30 Initiative (30×30 initiative) is a multi-national campaign to protect 30 percent of the world’s lands and waters across the globe by the year 2030. Here at home, President Biden issued an Executive Order in January that establish the 30 percent target by 2030 in the United States. At the risk of stating the obvious, the global goal is an incredibly ambitious target. Here in the U.S., it’s raising some eyebrows as well as some questions. How will this goal be achieved? How much of the U.S. is already “protected”? How will pursuit of these goals impact private landowners and public lands? Most importantly for us, how will this impact hunting- and fishing-driven conservation?

Having invested more in conservation than any other stakeholder, these are just a few of the questions we as hunters and anglers should be asking now, before others define 30×30 for us. As sustainable use practitioners and advocates, engaging on 30×30 is tricky because 1) some of 30×30’s biggest cheerleaders have a hard time admitting that hunting and fishing drive conservation and 2) the initiative’s biggest champions have defined the objective without telling anyone how they plan to get there. When it comes to political decision making, this lack of definition represents both challenge and opportunity.

Fortunately, the sporting conservation community isn’t waiting for these folks to tell policymakers what we already know: how to successfully conserve land, water, fish, and wildlife while meeting the needs of people through management and sustainable use. 

Hunters and anglers are the original conservationists of our land, water, and natural resources. The contributions that hunters and anglers make to conservation in America derive from the American System of Conservation Funding a “user pays–public benefits” program. Since 1939, conservation funding has been provided through hunting and fishing license sales and excise taxes on ammunition, firearms, fishing tackle, boat fuel, and other equipment necessary to engage in hunting and angling activities. We were also at the forefront of recent victories like the Great American Outdoors Act, which provides an injection of funding for landscape conservation, in addition to increased public land access. We’re also pushing hard to drive resources to the conservation of game and non-game species through the Recovering America’s Wildlife Act.

Sportsmen and women have a duty to become engaged in the conversation about 30×30. It is essential policy makers understand and appreciate the role that sportsmen and women play in conservation and biodiversity of our lands, water, fish and wildlife. If the sporting conservation community does not ensure that measures taken in pursuit of 30×30 objectives do not constitute restrictions on hunting and angling access, we risk losing the invaluable opportunities and resources that we have willingly conserved for decades. 

As an effort to engage the sporting conservation community in the global 30×30 Initiative, the Congressional Sportsmen’s Foundation (CSF), with other leading conservation organizations, established the “Hunt Fish 30×30” coalition to augment the voices of America’s sportsmen and women and highlight the vitality of being a part of this conversation as America’s original conservationists. The coalition consists of more than fifty conservation organizations that are committed to the role sportsmen and women play in biodiversity conservation. On the coalition’s website, huntfish3030.com, the public can learn about the role that sportsmen and women play in supporting biodiversity. HuntFish3030.com is an educational resource for the public and encourages hunters and anglers to continue our conservation legacy by being a part of the 30×30 conversation.

Sportsmen and women can effectively participate in the Hunt Fish 30×30 Initiative to illustrate how they already contribute to biodiversity conservation and their unique role in nature. The Hunt Fish 30×30 coalition has established a petition for individuals to sign to recognize the importance of hunting and fishing and the future of conservation and biodiversity. This petition encourages lawmakers to support policies that promote biodiversity while protecting access to our lands and waters. Additionally, follow CSF’s updates, communication, and social media about the Hunt Fish 3030 effort and the variety of 30×30 proposals–some good, some bad–across the country.

Hunting and fishing fuel our nation’s economy, conservation, and passions. There is no other stakeholder group more familiar with, or dedicated to, conservation and biodiversity through the activities of hunting and fishing. Sportsmen and women should ensure that conservation—and our role that has made conservation so profound—remains a priority as lawmakers consider 30×30 policies. Our commitment is derived from an appreciation for the healthy habitats that provide hunting and fishing endeavors and leave the world a better place.

Finally, we need to accept that the struggle to keep hunting and fishing firmly established as a cornerstone of conservation isn’t going away anytime soon. 30×30 is just the latest battle and we need to be united, informed, and active to ensure that our legacy remains intact. I strongly encourage you to take the first step and sign the Hunt Fish 30×30 petition today at huntfish3030.com/petition. — Jeff Crane, President and CEO of the Congressional Sportsmen’s Foundation

About Jeff Crane and the Congressional Sportsmen’s Foundation

Jeff Crane has been at CSF for nearly two decades and brings nearly 40 years of experience in on-the-ground natural resource management and policy expertise at the federal, state and international levels. A life-long outdoorsman, he has experience developing wildlife habitat management plans in the United States and South Africa, where he obtained his professional hunter’s license and guided hunts for big game animals. Jeff currently resides in Maryland where he continues to pursue the hunting and fishing lifestyle.

Since 1989, the Congressional Sportsmen’s Foundation (CSF) has become the nation’s most respected and leading sportsmen’s organization in the political arena. CSF’s mission is to work with Congress, governors, and state legislatures to protect and advance hunting, angling, recreational shooting and trapping. CSF works closely with the Congressional Sportsmen’s Caucus, the Governors Sportsmen’s Caucus, and the National Assembly of Sportsmen’s Caucuses, which is a collective force serving as an unprecedented network of pro-sportsmen elected officials that advance the interests of America’s hunters and anglers. Learn more about CSF and their latest work at congressionalsportsmen.org.

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Which is better: Creedmoor or PRC?

Photo above: This Georgia whitetail is the first animal Boddington has taken with a 6.5mm PRC. The rifle is a Springfield Waypoint test rifle that had to be returned, but Boddington was impressed enough by both rifle and cartridge that he’s ordered one.

The success of Hornady’s 6.5mm Creedmoor cartridge is the most amazing phenomenon I’ve seen in my career. It’s an efficient and mild-kicking cartridge with modern case design, but here’s the fascinating thing: When it was brought out in 2007, its current popularity wasn’t expected.  

Hornady saw it as a long-range target cartridge. Taking advantage of the 6.5mm’s bullet aerodynamics, it remains supersonic to ‘way out there. Based on a shortened .308 Winchester (or .30 TC) case, it can use those long bullets in short bolt-actions. Obviously, it has hunting applications but, since it was designed as a target cartridge, initial expectations were modest, and the introduction was fairly quiet. The 6.5mm Creedmoor soon started winning matches but sales languished along for several years…as anticipated.

Even the Hornady folks are a bit confused as to what happened; if done purposefully through effective marketing you’d want to bottle and sell it, but there’s no formula: About 2013, the 6.5 Creedmoor took off…seemingly all by itself, and its momentum continues. Plenty of folks already have one, and everybody else wants one. All suitable platforms are chambered to it, and factory loads continue to expand.

Very little about the Creedmoor is new. I’ve often suggested that the Creedmoor can’t do anything the 6.5×55 couldn’t do before 1900. This is almost true, but the Creedmoor has definite advantages over the 6.5×55: Its short (1.920-inch) case can handle long bullets in a short action. And, thanks to its rapid popularity, it is much more available in the U.S.

The Creedmoor’s advantages over the .260 Remington aren’t as clear. Introduced in 1997, the .260 Remington is based on the .308 Winchester case necked down to take a 6.5mm bullet. I jumped on the .260 bandwagon early; both my daughters took their first game with .260 Remington rifles. The .260 has not become wildly popular, but it is almost ballistically identical to the Creedmoor. In short actions, the Creedmoor does better with long bullets, but the .260 has more case capacity and can be loaded a bit faster.

Arguments can be made either way about which is “better,” but they’re too close to call. With the most case capacity, the 6.5×55 could be faster than either the Creedmoor or .260, but 6.5×55 factory ammo is loaded to lower pressure, and reloading manuals hold the 6.5×55 to lower limits. Loads (and loaders) vary, but we can say that the 6.5×55, .260 Remington, and Creedmoor are similar, propelling a 140-grain bullet at around 2700 fps, and yielding about 2300 ft-lbs of energy at the muzzle.

The Creedmoor has made American shooters aware of long-available 6.5mm magic. At a modest 2700 fps muzzle velocity, an aerodynamic 6.5mm bullet can remain supersonic well beyond 1200 yards, achieving this with mild recoil and little blast. The Creedmoor tends to be accurate, thus it really is an ideal long-range target cartridge, and obviously excellent for deer-sized game. However, it is minimal for game larger than deer; and it is not an ideal long-range hunting cartridge. Thanks to its rapid popularity, too many of us seem to have imparted near-mystical powers to the Creedmoor, touting its suitability for elk-sized game at extreme range.

On deer-sized game, the Creedmoor has sensible capability to around 400 yards. At closer ranges, it is elk-capable, but it lacks the velocity and energy for large game at long range. The Creedmoor erased the “curse of the 6.5mm” that spelled failure for all American 6.5mm cartridges up to and including the .260 Remington. We have finally embraced the .26-caliber and accepted the advantages of its long, aerodynamic projectiles. We have more and better bullets, and more 6.5mm cartridges to choose from.

In 2013, the 26 Nosler was the first of Nosler’s growing family of fast, large-cased, unbelted cartridges. Weatherby’s belted 6.5-.300 Weatherby Magnum (2016) is even faster. I took a monstrous ibex in eastern Turkey when the 26 Nosler was new, and I have a 6.5-.300. Few cartridges shoot as flat but, although my 6.5-.300 is very accurate, I view the two super-fast 6.5mms as almost too much of a good thing. They are over bore capacity, limiting suitable propellants, and reducing barrel life. They need long barrels, and I wouldn’t describe them as “mild” in blast or recoil!

There are other options, offering flatter trajectories than the “Creedmoor class,” and delivering more velocity and energy. I previously described this as the “6.5mm sweet spot.” There’s no magic in any particular number, but it seems to make a big difference in performance on game if you can get a 140-grain 6.5mm bullet up to about 3000 fps. Flattening of the trajectory isn’t so significant but the additional energy matters, especially on game larger and tougher than deer. A 140-grain bullet at 3000 fps delivers 2800 ft-lbs of energy, nearly a 20 percent increase over the Creedmoor.

Cartridges in this class include the 6.5-06, an old and fairly common wildcat; the 6.5-.284 Norma, loaded by Norma since 1999; and the old .264 Winchester Magnum, dating to 1958. All have some following. I saw my old friend Ron Mostyn the other day and asked if he was still using his 6.5-.284. He replied with a grin: “Best cartridge ever.” Montana outfitter Ryan Counts has a 6.5-06 that he swears by for coyotes and wolves at long range. And, with no apologies, I cling to my .264.

My .264 is a nice rifle that shoots well so I have no reason to abandon it. However, based primarily on sheer availability, the fast 6.5mm that seems to make the most sense is the 6.5mm Precision Rifle Cartridge (PRC). Another Hornady design, the PRC case is based on the .300 Ruger Compact Magnum case (or, if you prefer, a shortened .375 Ruger case). It is thus unbelted, but uses the same .532-inch rim diameter as most belted magnums. Depending on bullet length and seating depth, the stubby 2.030-inch case is better in short actions than the 6.5-.284 Norma. With 6.5mm bullets getting longer (and more aerodynamic), a lot of folks are putting the 6.5mm PRC in standard (.30-06-length) rather than short-actions, eliminating any concern about cartridge overall length. The efficiency of the short, fat case reduces much of the over bore capacity issues long common to fast 6.5mms. Barrel life will be a bit better; if I ever shoot out the barrel on my .264, it will become a PRC.

As currently loaded by Hornady, a 143-grain ELD-X is rated at 2960 fps. That’s a bit short of my goal of 3000 fps, but close enough. Also in the ballpark is Weatherby’s 6.5mm Rebated Precision Magnum (RPM). Based on a lengthened .284 Winchester (or 6.5-.284) case, ballistics are much the same, with a 140-grain bullet at 2975 fps. I doubt the 6.5mm PRC will ever approach the Creedmoor’s availability and popularity, but it’s catching on fast, with multiple (and expanding) sources for ammo and brass, while Weatherby remains the primary source for their 6.5mm RPM.

So, if you’ve stepped out of your cave and into the sunlight with a sudden craving for a 6.5mm rifle, I think the primary choices are the Creedmoor and the PRC. I love to champion old classics (like the 6.5×55 and .264) but, these days, availability matters more than ever. Few cartridges equal the Creedmoor’s availability. The PRC won’t catch up, but is easily the most available of the faster 6.5s, and is increasing in popularity.

Which of the two is best for you depends largely on what you intend to do. If you’re a target shooter, the choice is easy. The Creedmoor is a cartridge you can shoot all day and call it fun. If you’re a normal deer hunter, your answer might be just as simple: The Creedmoor is plenty of gun for any deer-sized critter…out to the normal ranges that most of us shoot.

But, suppose you also hunt elk. Or, you’re a mountain hunter where the stakes are high and shots are unpredictable. Or, you’re an African hunter with a wide variety of plains game on the menu. Or, you’re an extreme-range shooter. You might want to up your game a bit and consider the PRC instead of the Creedmoor!

When you add 250 to 300 fps velocity you will feel the difference on your shoulder and in the muzzle blast. The PRC isn’t as much fun to shoot as the Creedmoor, but it’s not a hard-kicking cartridge. The difference in performance and versatility is significant, and the short, fat, modern case is conducive to accuracy. I am often not first in line to embrace new cartridges, but I have a Mossberg Patriot in 6.5mm Creedmoor that I’m happy with, fine for deer and hogs at medium range. For anything really serious I want more gun, and I’m impressed by the 6.5 PRC. I’m not going to retire my .264, but I’ve got a Springfield Waypoint in 6.5 PRC on order.

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The New Hunter Program at FTW Ranch turns novices into well-rounded, ethical, and skilled hunters.

If you want to become a hunter and you don’t have a hunting mentor, where do you start? Sure, a hunter education course is usually mandatory, but where does a novice go for information beyond the basics—how to aim and shoot properly, how to field-dress game, how to learn what to do with all that meat? There are a number of youth mentoring programs in various states, but few places for an adult hunter to get practical training.

A group of instructors and friends of the SAAM (Sportsman’s All-Weather, All-Terrain Marksmanship) course at FTW Ranch in Texas got to talking about this problem one evening around the campfire. An idea formed, and the New Hunter Program at SAAM was born.

SAAM, which specializes in training hunters to improve and refine their shooting skills, used its existing resources to team devise an inspired curriculum. Tim Fallon, owner of FTW and SAAM, said, “The team put into the course all of the elements that we feel a new hunter needs at the beginning, but also will fill in the blanks for hunters with some experience but not a lot of knowledge. The goal is that everyone leaves the course a better hunter.”

Upon arrival at the ranch, students are fitted for their guns. In this case, all students were provided with a Remington 700 in 6.5 Creedmoor, topped with a Swarovski scope, and Hornady ammo—all included in the price of the course. Some students chose classic hunting-style rifles and others opted for the platform range rifle with pistol grip. 

The course starts with the foundation of shooting proficiency and firearm safety. Students spend a morning in the classroom with Doug Prichard and Dave Knesek, both former Navy SEALs who teach regularly at the ranch. Students learn about parts of the rifle and scope, MOA and mil-dots. A discussion of shot placement and hunter ethics follows, and then before lunch on the first day, students are hands-on in the work room, cleaning and getting familiar with their firearms.

Shooting sessions on the range familiarize everyone with their guns and whet their appetites for what was next. Each student in the five-day class gets to take part in a cull hunt for blackbuck and fallow deer does. At the course I attended recently, two students were assigned to each FTW guide, and the hunting began on the second day at 5:30 a.m. 

The ever-changing Texas weather was windy and cold for the first early morning hunt. The rugged canyons and cliffs of FTW provide challenging conditions for even a skilled hunter. Some of the students were successful on the first morning, but many returned empty-handed but with significantly better understanding of the process. Morning and afternoon hunts continued during the week for all students, until each one was able to bring an animal to the skinning shed and get busy.

In addition to the daily routine of range time and hunting, students heard experts gave talks on various topics. Dr. Tim Doucet discussed what deer can see versus what humans can see, helping put spotting and stalking game animals and the importance of camouflage into context. Game Warden Clint Graham discussed the role of law enforcement in protecting natural resources. Understanding how to properly use and conserve natural resources is a large part of hunting ethics. Graham also talked about the role of land managers and landowners in the equation.

On most guided hunts, once an animal is taken, the gutting, cleaning and quartering of the animal is left to a team hired by the outfitter, and the hunter is free to celebrate, perhaps standing by and watching as the experts work. Not in this course. Each student was front and center in the skinning shed, knife in hand, learning what to do. 

Wildlife biologist and TV personality Larry Weishuhn performed a necropsy on the first animal brought in–a female blackbuck. As he gutted the animal, he not only explained the process but also discussed the various parts of the anatomy, showing the students the exact location of the vitals and examining the stomach contents to help the students learn what the animal had been eating. 

Larry was also on hand in the skinning shed with each student to show the proper way to begin skinning. As we observed the first students intently removing the skin from their animals with sharp knives, Weishuhn said to me, “This course is really remarkable in that it takes any hunter, especially a novice, and makes them a more complete hunter. The knowledge gained here will apply later to almost any type of hunt someone can undertake.”

Another instructor, Gary Broach of Rhodes Taxidermy, showed students how to prepare a skin for mounting, and also demonstrated how to quarter and butcher the animal. The results were steaks, chops, hams, and trim to be made into ground meat.

Capping off the full field-to-table experience was time in the kitchen with Chef Joshua Schwencke of Gastronomy Life Events, who showed the students how to prepare game meat for cooking and made suggestions on how to cook various parts of the kill. At the request of one student, Chef Josh prepared a blackbuck heart ceviche, which many in the group sampled. Each student also got a hands-on lesson in sausage making, using the gourmet recipes of Chef Josh—Thai-inspired or German-style. Everyone was sent home with at least a pound of sausage made from game meat mixed with pork fat and other flavorings. Dinner on the last day was a chef-prepared feast of wild game— followed by a beer tasting of local Texas brews.

One hallmark of SAAM courses in general is the team’s ability to quickly create a tight-knit culture from the diverse experience of students, instructors, presenters, and guides. Whether one is shooting for the first time, or has been at it for twenty-plus years, the camaraderie that quickly forms ensures that no one is left behind. 

The experienced instructors size students up quickly to help them form good new habits and break bad ones. Dave Knesek is one of the expert instructors at SAAM. He said, “I know how to take a look at someone shooting a few shots and immediately see which are the most significant things to correct. Once someone can fix those major things, the rest is easy.” 

Instructor Doug Prichard loves watching people learn. “Students are hungry for knowledge. We provide it and they just soak it up. That for me is the best part of this course.” Doug also addressed the maxim “failure is not an option” by turning it around. “In fact, we learn from failure. It motivates us to do better and to figure out how to do it right.” The expert instructors correct your mistakes with an eye to improving your shooting and by extension, your hunting proficiency. 

The hunting guides follow what students are learning in class and provide their own instruction in the field as students engage in spotting, stalking, discussing distances and windage, as well as observing animal behavior. By the end of the course, all students had bagged an animal to round out their experience.

Caroline Thompson, of Dallas, Texas, told me she was not sure about attending the course. Although interested in hunting, she was completely inexperienced. She wondered if she would feel safe, and if she would be able to keep up with others who were bound to have more experience than her. She wasn’t even sure what to wear. The staff worked with her before arrival to answer her questions, and Caroline ended up enjoying the experience. She said, “If you want to start hunting, this is definitely the place to go.” Caroline bagged a lovely fallow doe, which she skinned herself.

Karrie Meadows, of Plano, Texas, a novice with some experience, liked the way things were explained in an accessible and methodical way. “No matter what your background or previous skill level, this is a course for anyone who wants to learn about hunting. With a wide variety of lessons and topics, everyone leaves with a new appreciation or perspective.” Meadows had her sights on a female blackbuck, first at 300 yards, but then consulted with her guide Efren Hernandez about the wind and the shot placement, precisely as the SAAM training encourages. They decided to move to a better position at the bottom of the canyon, and Karrie made a successful 145-yard shot.

In the evening of the second day, I was watching a group of blackbuck females at 285 yards with my guide. Thanks to the earlier instruction and practice on the range, one shot to the lungs brought down the antelope. Having seen the necropsy earlier in the day helped me visualize precisely where to place the shot. 

It was in the skinning shed where I could really feel my inexperience. As I wielded the knife, removing the skin from the blackbuck, I frequently asked, “Am I doing this right?” My tutor and classmates reassured me patiently every time. At the end of the process, I had quarters of meat ready for butchering and a hide ready for tanning.

Another student, Shaman Bakshi, of southern California, also a novice hunter, sought out this course because even though he has plenty of access to urban firing ranges, he found nothing to compare with the expert instruction or the facilities of FTW Ranch and the SAAM New Hunter Program. He said, “This is the only place with accurate training that I could find—perhaps due to COVID, or because good training may not exist in a consistent way. If it does, I am not aware of it.” Bakshi plans to return to SAAM later this year for the Safari course, which provides African safari simulations combined with shot placement on moving and charging targets, more wind-calling scenarios, and training in using rifle scopes effectively.

The New Hunter Program is rare in the world of shooting and hunting. The SAAM faculty have done a brilliant job of bringing together a winning combination of location and game, classes and sessions, and personable and skilled instructors. The result is a unique and intense experience that delivers on its goal to turn novices into more complete hunters. Those who have gone through this comprehensive experience, building solid skills from a solid base, are likely to go back into the field and hunt, again and again. 

Learn about the New Hunter Program by visiting ftwsaam.com and clicking on the SAAM tab.

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Where to hunt “Africa’s whitetail.”

Photo above: An old harnessed bushbuck with one horn tip broken, taking a drink along a river in Benin. (Photo by Christophe Morio)

On a hunt in Uganda this past March, we spent our last few days hunting sitatunga in riverine papyrus beds, and we were successful on the last evening. On our very last day, we needed to be in Kampala by late afternoon for a midnight departure, but we had time for a morning hunt. Donna wanted a bushbuck, so we headed into mixed thornbush away from the river. Just at full daylight, hardly a half-hour from camp, she and PH Jumbo Moore stalked a big ram on a brushy antheap. It was the second bushbuck they’d stalked, but this one held for a shot.

The ram had heavy 16-inch horns, big for any bushbuck. And this wasn’t any bushbuck; it was a Nile bushbuck, one of the smaller races, so hers was exceptional. I shouldn’t have been surprised. In general, Donna is not a lucky hunter, but she’s been charmed with big bushbucks! I wouldn’t have banked on one that large, certainly not on a one-morning hunt. However, we were in a special place for bushbucks. 

We were on the Kafu River in central Uganda. The wide, shallow river holds huge papyrus beds, ideal sitatunga habitat shared with crocodiles and hippos. Away from the river, small croplands are interspersed with thick cover, and I’ve never seen such a concentration of bushbucks (of any kind). Along the Kafu, bushbucks walk around like goats. You’ll see a few at any time of day, but poke around slowly in early morning or late afternoon, and you’re almost certain to see nice rams.

The bushbuck, Tragelaphus scriptus, is the smallest and most widespread of Africa’s spiral-horned antelopes. I think of them as Africa’s whitetail, and there are many parallels: Both species are crafty and love heavy cover. When threatened, the bushbuck gives a sharp bark, just as final as the whitetail’s alarm snort. Size and color vary confusingly. In the nineteenth century, when every explorer (or wannabe explorer) wanted an animal named after him/her, there were as many as forty races identified. Many are still disputed, but some modern experts reckon something like eight regional groupings is more likely. SCI and Rowland Ward’s record-keeping systems are not in total agreement on number or nomenclature, boiling the bushbucks down to eight and nine races respectively, all by regional grouping. A major difference between the two systems: Rowland Ward classes all bushbucks in South Africa (and adjacent southern Mozambique) as the South African bushbuck, with Chobe bushbuck to the north. SCI splits this into Cape bushbuck along the coast, adding the Limpopo bushbuck in northern South Africa and adjacent Zimbabwe. 

Taking one each of all the bushbucks is a Herculean task, and I have not. By SCI’s categories, I’m missing the Abyssinian bushbuck of Ethiopia’s lowlands. By Rowland Ward’s listings, I’m also missing the (disputed) Shoan bushbuck, found only on the southwest edge of Menelik bushbuck range in Ethiopia’s high country, but smaller and with almost no white markings; and the Somalian bushbuck of Somalia’s southern coast, not hunted for many years (current status unknown).

No matter; I like to hunt bushbucks. Rarely is a bushbuck a primary objective of a safari, but trophy fees are low and hunting them is interesting, making them an ideal add-on to any safari where they occur (which is almost everywhere except in desert habitat).  They’re crafty, tasty, and gorgeous! Typically, South African (Cape) rams are very dark, as are the Menelik bushbuck. Chobe and Abyssinian bushbucks are usually red while, in my experience, Limpopo and East African bushbucks may be very red or very dark. Most have a white throat patch and a variable patterning of white spots and stripes. The westernmost harnessed bushbuck, found throughout the forest zone, usually has the most brilliant markings, followed by the Nile bushbuck, currently hunted only in Uganda.

Throughout the races, individuals vary in markings (which largely led to the many proposed subspecies). As hunters, we usually don’t shoot bushbucks based on color; we tend to look at horns first: Spiraling gently upwards from thick bases, and usually ending in needle-sharp tips. Anywhere, an older ram with thick, worn horns may be a fine trophy at 12 or 13 inches. A 14-inch bushbuck is always good, and any ram in the 16-inch class is cause for serious celebration. In the old days, Kenya produced the longest-horned bushbucks. My first, up on Mount Kenya, had 18-inch horns, and remains my best. However, almost all of the races, even smaller bushbucks like harnessed and Nile, have produced individuals with outsized horns. It depends on your luck.

In today’s world, the Limpopo drainage probably produces the largest bushbucks, but Masailand’s scattered mountains also produce big rams. Chobe bushbuck in the Zambezi drainage in Zambia and northern Zimbabwe are generally smaller, but seem to grow exceptionally large in coastal Mozambique. The first time I hunted there, at Mahimba north of the Zambezi, I shot a wonderful 16-inch bushbuck. In a three-week period, three other hunters also took bushbucks. Mine was the smallest of the four, and I’m not ashamed of him!

The big Coutadas of the Zambezi Delta, surrounding the Marromeu Reserve, also produce very large Chobe bushbucks. However, unlike most places where I’ve hunted bushbucks, they seem to be generally (and thinly) distributed in the miombo forest, rather than tied to patches of ideal habitat. This makes them difficult to hunt specifically and on purpose. A few years ago, Donna (naturally) got a wonderful bushbuck there, but I never have. In fact, of the twenty-odd antelope varieties in the area, a big Chobe bushbuck is probably the most difficult, and one game quota that the outfitters never completely fill. Even so, that area produces several rams in the upper teens every year. It depends on your luck, and also how much time you spend specifically hunting bushbuck.

Harnessed bushbucks occur literally throughout the forest zone, but are thin on the ground and difficult to hunt in climax forest. I’ve seen them, and heard them bark, but I’ve had much better luck in the terminalia forest (“savannas”) of northern Cameroon and CAR. Benin and Burkina Faso are also excellent for harnessed bushbuck. Neither Donna nor I got one there, but we didn’t hunt them hard enough. You won’t encounter them daily in Central Africa, but you can hunt along thicker riverine growth that “just looks like” bushbuck habitat, and in the course of a week or two you will almost surely have a chance.

Places like Uganda’s Kafu River, where you can sally forth on almost any given day and expect to encounter a good bushbuck are rare, but not unheard-of. Mount Kenya was certainly like that, and I’m told Tanzania’s Mount Meru is the same. Certainly, there are riverines in the Limpopo drainage, both northern South Africa and southern Zimbabwe, where you can read the habitat, hunt it at the right time, and expect to see good rams.

South Africa’s Eastern Cape is also exceptional for bushbuck, both in the thick coastal thornbush, and in hilly country to the east. Agriculture can also be a key: Again, like whitetails, bushbucks must have heavy cover for security, but they also love “edge” habitat, thriving in the mosaic between farmland and thick bush.

The only time I hunted the nearly black Menelik bushbuck of Ethiopia’s high country, Joe Bishop and I hunted a big farming cooperative near Asela. Our outfitter, Colonel Negussie Eshete, planned just a day and a half between the mountains and the Danakil to hunt this important animal. The country sure didn’t look like bushbuck habitat, just narrow strands of cover along small streams, and big stands of mature eucalyptus with little understory. Negussie fully expected us to take our bushbucks in the allotted time, and we did. Mine was a nice ram, just peering out from behind a stout eucalyptus. As often happened when we hunted together, Bishop got a monster, one of the biggest in recent times. For bushbuck, you always have to be in the right place at the right time. To take a really big bushbuck, you also need a bit of luck!      

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