As a field biologist, just seeing new habitats and animals - game or non-game - makes a safari worthwhile.

As a lover of new cultures - people, art, food, etc. - being in a new country, or new part of a country brings a soul-satisfaction.

Watching the intuition, nearing a sixth sense, of Trackers and Professional Hunters amazes me and brings into stark relief my own limited talents.

And, taking the lives of animals, the mounts of which will bring back memories of the joys and heartaches when on a safari, makes me reconsider my passion for hunting.

Why do I go on Safari? Because I believe it is why I was fashioned in the way I was. No other activity comes close in providing a refreshment that lasts, and memories so rich. Not just of the chase, but of every encounter small or large.

Stay tuned for articles and another book coming out in the not-too-distant future.

Igor’s eye for settings, movements and behaviors gives him the ability to build a conception for clients who lack his knowledge and artistic ability. My two bird species taken on a recent trip to the dry tropics of the Yucatán peninsula are wonderful examples of what this involves. Though I successfully hunted two of the ‘most difficult North American game species’ (according to Craig Boddington, that is), the Grey-brown and Red brocket deer, I was equally pleased with taking two of the beautiful birds from the region, the Great Curassow and Crested Guan. Both turkey-sized, with marvelously colored plumage, photos of these two animals captivated my daydreams in the weeks prior to flying to Merida, Mexico, the jumping off point for my hunt.

The first order of business when reaching ‘Brocket Camp’ was patterning the Ithaca Model 37, Featherlight, 12 Gauge pump shotgun. It was a good thing we did. In my hands, it shot high. Firing at tiny deer, and birds with a very limited ‘kill-zone’ required excellent shot placement, or we could have a train wreck with wounded animals. Knowing the trajectory, I am pleased to say that all four animals – both deer and birds – required only a single shot each. This also meant that for the bird mounts, as Igor stated, “You did not lose feathers from multiple shots.”

As for the hunts, the Crested Guan came quite easily – on the morning of the third day of the five-day hunt.

The Great Curassow, on the other hand, became a veritable Moby Dick, with a several hour trip to the very furthest edge of the concession, on the last morning, necessary to finally locate this elusive game bird. This last gasp effort netted a gorgeous male, but not until after I missed an easy shot at a roosting bird. I could try and make excuses by pointing to the limited early-morning light conditions, but then again, I hit the second target in almost the same conditions. So, it’s more accurate to state that I just flat missed the first stationary Curassow…

During pre-trip discussions, Igor warned me that there was a significant chance that my bird skins would not make it back to him in good shape. He shared that for some time he had refused to accept specimens from clients if they planned to hunt with one of the main outfitters because of the consistently terrible condition of the skins and feathers of specimens. He kindly agreed to receive mine mainly because I was a friend of a friend, and because he had never dealt with my outfitter – Tankab (https://www.tankab.com/). Given Igor’s concerns, I wondered if my birds would make it back in good shape, or with the damaged feathers and rotted heads he had seen before. I am happy to state that when Igor received the Guan and Curassow, this was his report: “We have mounted hundreds of birds from the Yucatán and none of them were in as good condition as your two birds! You were very fortunate to have hunted with Tankab.”

The first direction Igor needed from me concerned the ‘setting’ for the mounts. From my review of scientific literature and discussions with Igor, I knew the Guan was arboreal, spending most of its time high in the tropical forest canopy, while the Curassow preferred the forest floor for feeding and mating. Igor suggested a wall-mount for the Guan – with a tree branch extending from the base as its perch – and a floor base with a small upright log and [faux] tropical soil for the Curassow. The logistical problem for me was the rapidly shrinking wall space of my trophy room. I opted instead for matching floor mounts for both birds. After all, I reasoned, the Guan does occasionally run around in the understory of its tropical, forest home.

The next decision was the ‘attitude’ of each bird. Igor sent photos of previous mounts of these species. Scanning through them, I realized how well he captured the natural poses seen in videos and photographs. I was also amazed by his use of the correct vegetation and soil type I’d seen in the Yucatán when on my hunt for the Guan and Curassow. I chose poses for both birds involving the elevation of one foot grasping an upraised small log. The photographic examples sent to me indicated the exquisite detail I could expect for my trophies. And that is exactly what the completed Guan and Curassow mounts provide. From the spreading of the three front-most toes under their center-of-gravity as the Guan and Curassow lean slightly, to the grasping of the rear-pointing digit into the rough texture of the log, the feet captured the action of the animals as they paused while foraging.

Moving up from the feet, the pigments of the legs, grey on the Curassow and Deep red on the Guan draw the viewer’s attention to the natural attitudes of both birds. The leg coloration also provides a contrast for the jet-black feathers of the Curassow’s Tail, Breast, Wings, Neck, Face and Crest, as well as the snow-white covering on its crissum (area surrounding the cloacal opening). The dark charcoal grey with white speckling of the Guan’s plumage contrasts amazingly with its deep red colored legs. Both birds have additional, striking coloration on head and neck; the Guan possesses a bright red throat wattle, while the Curassow displays a fleshy yellow cere surrounding the base of its bill.

The Guan and Curassow sport crests, with the latter species’ crest reminiscent of a teenager’s jelled head of hair.

In total, Igor’s artistry added nothing to the natural beauty of the various parts, but rather, emphasized the interaction of the different structures and colorations, yielding a whole much greater in beauty than the individual components. If you’re not certain from what I’ve stated, yes, I will ask Igor to take me again as a client in the not-too-distant future…

Contact Igor Carogodin at igorcar@hotmail.com.

Mike Arnold is a Professor of Genetics at the University of Georgia and author of the 2022 book, BRINGING BACK THE LIONS: International Hunters, Local Tribespeople, and the Miraculous Rescue of a Doomed Ecosystem in Mozambique. Mike’s book is available for purchase now at bringingbackthelions.com.

Moldova, according to the Britannica site, is in the northeastern corner of the Balkans, with its capital city of Chișinău located in the south-central portion of the country. If that doesn’t get you there, Moldova was known formerly as Bessarabia when it was part of Romania, with Russia subsequently – in defense of my ignorance – grabbing it after WWII.

(By the way, I followed up my boo-boo with a safe inquiry; Igor turned 60 in 2022…)

Who is Igor Carogodin? In layman terms, he’s a taxidermist. In the greater world in which he exists, an artist with few peers, winning top awards for his mounts at world championships. More reflective of his standing across the widest range of organizations and people are the appeals that pour in to preserve precious samples, like the 10–11-foot wing spanned, California Condor and New Zealand Albatross, both posed to maximize their stately beauty. From small museums in southern California to the Los Angeles and Seattle Museums of Natural History, to Dick and Mary Cabela’s 15,000+ square foot trophy room, to even my modest office space, Igor brings the same passion for his subjects, turning them into works of art reflecting the biology of the species. The curve of the heads, positioning of each digit, tilt of the bodies – every detail draws the viewer into the unique natural history of the specimen. Before we go back in time to address how Igor became the artist de jure of bird taxidermy, the answer to one other question recommended (in my mind) his love for color, majesty, and movement; Igor’s favorite bird to mount is the Ring-necked Pheasant.

Playing Hooky, Sketching Birds, ‘Borrowing’ Specimens, Studying Biology, Teaching Biology, and Running Museums

A Single-Minded Journey to Greatness

I don’t know what the Moldovan words are for “Mom, I’m sick”, but apparently Igor used them frequently to get out of going to school. I expect his mom, like all other mothers, was insightful enough to know that her young son was prevaricating about being ill, but she let him believe that his ruse fooled her. Regardless, his absence from school wasn’t so he could play video games or watch the Russian Opera on TV. Instead, he spent his ‘sick days’ in the local parks sketching birds. These formative years locked into his young mind the habitats favored and attitudes assumed by the various park-visiting Avian species. Maybe his time in the park also explains why, of all non-game species, he prefers to work with smaller forms occurring in groups. For example, one of the World prize awards recognized his superior work on a collection of Redwing Blackbirds.

Igor’s attraction for work with museum displays reflects his love of all things birds. “I love the museum work because it almost always involves non-game species never sent to me by hunters.” His scholastic pursuits likewise reflected an addiction to birds. “I studied biology so that I could dig deeply into the habits, morphology and ecology of animals, but in the process, and unlike most of my contemporaries, I fell in love with birds rather than mammals.” In case you are wondering, Igor has no anti-hunter leanings, nor does he dislike working with game birds. He hunted frequently when living in Moldova, with his favorite forays involving pursuits for ducks, and during the time encompassing our several interview sessions, he sent photos of ducks, prairie chickens etc. in various stages of mounting. But he also sent me photos of exquisitely arrayed groups of seabirds. His eye and hands do indeed know no bounds when it comes to making even rarely encountered birds come back to life. This was not always the case, however. As Igor explained, “My first attempt at taxidermy occurred when I was 13. I found a chickadee lying dead in the snow. I had no idea how to preserve it, so I injected the body with perfume containing alcohol. Fortunately, though, a neighbor who was a biologist showed me how to skin the chickadee and though the mount wasn’t great, it fueled my passion. I am a bit ashamed to reveal that my next step involved theft. I went into the local Museum of Natural History and stole a bird from the collection, took it home, tore it apart and then reconstructed it. That probably taught me as much about taxidermy as any other single event along the way!”

With a larceny episode involving a museum specimen behind him, it’s a bit ironic that Igor’s professional life began as Director of the Nature Department of the National Museum of Nature and Culture. At the same time, he taught field biology of vertebrates for Chișinău University. This academic work, begun in 1984, continued until Igor failed to obtain a visa to move to Europe, instead, accepting a position at the esteemed Darwin Museum of Natural History in Moscow. From there, in 1998, he finally emigrated, but rather than Europe, his migration took him to the United States. This change marked the transition from, in Igor’s words, “a society where no one wanted to help me because they were concerned with protecting their territory so that they could make money for themselves, to a place with huge opportunities for growth in my skills and expansion in my network of clients, both museums and individuals.”

The museum clientele attracted by Igor’s reputation, as mentioned before, ranged from small to huge. His individual clients reflected the same range in scale. As examples of enormous collections are those of the Cabela family and Dallas Safari Club Board Member, Rick Warren. For some time, Igor worked exclusively on Dick and Mary Cabela’s extensive collections three-four times a year. When Rick Warren decided to build a major collection of African birds into his Wildlife Gallery in Austin, Texas he invited Igor on an extended Safari/collecting trip to Africa. Many, many birds later, the Warren Wildlife Center is a major exhibit of the Igor Carogodin’s mastery of taxidermy. Yet even those collectors who have few avian trophies to their credit can provide illustrations of the Carogodin process. In fact, detailed examination of a few specimens provides the laser focus necessary to understand the intricacy of Igor’s conceptualization and execution underpinning his works of art…

The Final Part of Igor’s Story Coming Soon!

The next morning, I spent time writing emails and outlines for various articles. I also spent time wondering if we had blown our hunt for this male by not sitting in the blind the evening before. I was convincing myself that he had fed again, gotten full, and was now out on his rounds, never to return. When we checked the bait at midday, we discovered the new meat chewed on but with much left. When we checked out our blind, there in the sand were the unmistakable tracks of a leopard. The tracks led straight to the open door of our tent-blind. The cat had walked straight up and investigated this new addition to its environment. Our being there the night before would likely have ended the hunt for that cat. I’ll credit Kabous. He never ever said “I told you so.” But it’s reasonable to assume he thought it.

Another Kabous’ saying is that “leopards cannot count.” This understanding of leopard behavior came into play that afternoon. Once we were situated in the blind, Kapetja and Nico climbed into the Land Cruiser and drove away. The assumption is that the big male was snoozing close-by and heard people come and, as before, leave. Four came in, but only two left…Leopards cannot count. That evening was my first time in a leopard blind. I thought about bringing a book to read, but I assumed (as it turned out, accurately) that my first experience with this type of hunt would be entertaining enough. It was difficult to keep from fidgeting, not from boredom, but from adrenaline.

I had never heard a leopard ‘saw’. Kabous held his hand up at 6:25 and asked if I had heard the leopard? I had not. But, exactly five minutes later the guttural Huh! Huh! Huh! came from nearby. Kabous and I grinned, and fist bumped. The big male was heading to his bait. One hour later, I wondered what I had done to scare away the big cat. Had I coughed, sniffed, moved rapidly?  Well, yes, a couple of times for each. We had not heard the male again, and he had not shown up on the feeding branch. But this time I was wrong about messing up. Kabous’ whispered “He is in the tree. Slide up onto your stock. Can you see him?” told me that we were in the game. As I said, at first, I couldn’t pick out the tom leopard in my scope. But, after a few seconds, his powerful chest, shoulders and massive head and neck materialized. The trigger broke with the sights aligned on the point of the big tom’s on-shoulder. Five seconds later, there was a loud thump. This thump is so-called “music to a PH’s ears.” It was music to mine as well. I was trusting in everything I had heard and read about this indicating a fatal hit. More importantly, Kabous confirmed my book knowledge when he asked, “Did you hear that thump?!”

That thump turned out to be a 7’ 2”, 145-lb tom leopard. Having taken my 7mm Remington Magnum, 162-grain ELD-X through the top of his heart, he was still able to right himself and run 15 yards. What a warrior. When we reached him, Kabous, Kapetja and Nico drew back from the now-silent male leopard. I am not ashamed to say that I removed my hat, laid my hand on his side, bowed my head, and thanked he and my God for allowing me to live a life that included the pursuit of such magnificent animals. Robert Ruark quoted Harry Selby in describing my trophy leopard: “He’s a real beauty. Isn’t it funny how most of the antelopes and the lions lose all their dignity in death? This blighter is more beautiful when he’s in the bag than when he’s in the tree…He’s the most beautiful trophy in Africa.”

Anti-hunters will never understand the supreme sadness we as hunters feel when we have taken a life. They will also not know our profound sense of joy and fulfillment. What I can affirm is that they and I have the same goal – to conserve nature’s beautiful creatures. But hunters’ passion leads to community involvement and empowerment. That is why and how Kaokoland, and Namibia still have wildlife.

As the first three days came and went, it became clear that we had a good chance of luring in one of the big males passing close to our bait sites. ‘My’ team chose bait and blind sites, hung the baits, and laid down scent trails (‘dragging’) based on intuition and observation – both gained from years of success in outwitting these extremely intelligent carnivores. A good example of the attention to detail was in their choosing to drag both the morning and afternoon of the first day of baiting. This gave the maximum scent trail. After the first day, and until a hit by a cat, they laid the scent trail only in the afternoon. They explained: since we were hunting during high summer, the scent would burn off during the heat of the day if laid down in the morning.

Another unique aspect of Kabous’ methodology involved how he measured a leopard’s spoor. Unlike what I had seen on videos and read in books; he did not measure the imprint of the entire foot; he used only the pad print. His logic was that when weight shifted to the foot, the tips of the toes would spread out, potentially resulting in an overestimate of the size of the cat. The pad, on the other hand, does not spread to the same degree when the leopard’s weight transfers to that foot. In Kaokoland, Kabous knew that a 2.5 inch, or greater, pad width indicated a mature male. A narrower pad likely reflected a female or juvenile male.

The morning bait check on the third day was a banner event. Not only did we have hits on multiple baits, but a big male had also hammered one of the baits, stripping large chunks from the zebra backstraps hung the day before. Because of the number of active baits, we were running low on meat. We remedied this by going out early the next morning and harvesting a beautiful Hartmann’s Mountain Zebra. Shot at 342 yards, the stallion went less than 70 yards before piling up. We could now provide our hungry cats – particularly the large males – with high-in-fat zebra quarters. This is just what we did on the bait site taken over by the large male.

We arrived the day after supplementing this bait to find that the male (as recorded by meat loss and the trail cam footage) had again fed well on ‘his’ zebra. That set-in motion the next phase of the match between hunters and trophy. Kabous uses the ‘BOB’ system – Bait, Obstacle, Blind – when he positions a bait. So, he already knew the location of the blind for each of his baits; this blind set-up was 64 yards from the bait tree. From no-blind-to-completed-blind at this site took a bit less than one hour. It was obvious that this was not the first rodeo for Kabous, Kapetja and Nico; I just tried to stay out of their way. Once the pop-up tent was in place with Mopane branches interweaved into a camouflage mesh around the tent’s frame, the blind blended seamlessly into the surrounding landscape. Kabous’ unique technique (prescience?!) appeared again at this point in the game.

As soon as we had the blind constructed, I asked Kabous what time that afternoon we would we be returning to sit in the blind? His answer surprised me. “We are going to leave this setup alone until tomorrow afternoon.” I suspect he knew that I wanted to pull the “I’m the paying client here, and I want to come back this afternoon” card. So, he explained, as if to a child (small words and slowly): “We have added more meat to the bait, erected a blind and walked around quite a bit this morning. I want to let the leopard get comfortable with the changes. If the cat is uncomfortable, he is likely to come investigate our blind. If we’re in it, he could blow out of here.” This strategy reflected two more of Kabous’ mantras: ‘getting to know your cat’ and ‘letting the cat become comfortable with the bait site.’ To say that I disagreed in not sitting that very evening would be a very large understatement. But, for once, I kept my arguments to myself.

Stay Tuned for - Kaokoland Leopard: The Final Scene

For the second time in three hours, the hair lifted on the back of my neck. This time it was as I listened to the Herero chants by tracker Kapetja and game guard Nico. As we slowly drove back through the local village and into our bush camp, Nico’s bass tones were immediately followed by Kapetja’s guttural Huh!!, Huh!! Mimicking the big tom leopard’s sawing heard as he approached our bait tree three hours previously. When asked, Nico explained, “We are telling our ancestors that an animal that could kill us or our children or our livestock has been killed!”

My panic spiked as PH, Kabous Grünschloss, asked again “Can you see him?” ‘Him’ was a big male leopard. Kabous had leaned over only 30 seconds before to whisper in my ear that the cat was in the bait tree and feeding on the meat. I had slowly leaned into the stock of the MG Arms Ultralight and looked through the [very bright] Leupold riflescope. And…I saw a blob in the dying light of the Kaokoland sun. Now even Kabous sounded a bit concerned when, for the third time he breathed “Can you see him?” Just at that moment, the blob resolved itself into the animal I had come so far to hunt. The male leopard was quartering towards our blind, stretching its neck to grab a mouthful of the zebra hindquarter. The crosshairs rested on the point of his shoulder and the actions that cause a rifle to fire happened.

            When I booked my leopard-centric hunt with Jamy Traut Hunting Safaris, they told me that I would be staying in either their Kaokoland or Watersberg concession. Both are superb areas for these elusive cats, but they are as different in habitat as night-is-to-day. Kaokoland is an arid landscape that can look like a moonscape, particularly when in the grip of a drought like the one going on when I arrived. Watersberg, on the other hand, as the name implies, is a tabletop mountain characterized by thick bush and lots of rain. I told Jamy and his staff that I did not care where I hunted for leopard. I just wanted the best opportunity at getting a representative male.

For two reasons, I am very glad we ended up in the Kaokoland Conservancy. First, being an unrepentant child of the Western US, I love to be in places that are dry and have a big sky. Second, a set of scientific studies to determine how many leopards occur in various regions across the entirety of Namibia included Kaokoland. As a professor who has spent a good deal of time thinking, and writing, about conservation biology, it gave me data to study; yep, I’m a geek, and I’m ok with that.

What I was ignorant of when I chose to hunt leopard with Jamy Traut, was that the country of Namibia contains a population of leopards numbering at least 11,000, with Kaokoland having one of the highest densities of these spotted predators. A major contributing factor for the wealth of leopards across Namibia, and particularly in Kaokoland, is the Conservancy System. These systems, administered by local governments, place value on dangerous and destructive predators, like leopards, through the assigning of quotas for sport hunting. Local inhabitants, through their Conservancies, protect these animals because of the monetary gain from hunters’ dollars. Or, to put it in science-speak “Legal consumptive use of leopards through trophy hunting is a means of generating revenue in remote areas.”

So, we were in a leopard honey-hole. I didn’t know this until after my hunt, but that goes a long way in accounting for what we saw in the way of leopard sign. Spoiler alert: Kabous, tracker Kapetja and Game Guard, Nico, identified the tracks of around 10 separate cats – including young males, mature females, and big, mature males. From this plenty, they enticed five cats into trees; they were able to identify the different cats using trail cameras at the bait sites.

STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF KAOKOLAND LEOPARD

It was as we made our way back to the truck that Dylan and Albiño shared something in the unique, English-Afrikaans-Sena-Portuguese mixed-language known as Fanagalo that made both chuckle. I wondered what they found humorous. Dylan smiled and said, “You just bought that boar a life insurance policy. No client will want a Warthog with one of its tusks shot in half.” Right then the levity didn’t penetrate my gloom. It would take several days, some good-natured kidding by other PHs, Trackers and camp staff concerning ‘Warthog Life Insurance’ before I would lighten up and start accepting that everyone makes a bad shot occasionally. Yes, mine was a doozy, but it wasn’t going to help for me to sulk about it, and in fact would likely contribute to additional poor shooting if I didn’t relax and go on.

Albiño wasted no time getting ready to cross over to where the ram lay. Pulling off his shoes and socks, his belt, and emptying his pockets of items that would not appreciate a dunking. I asked him to let me go with him to help bring back the Bushbuck trophy. This led to a huge smile from him and rapid fire Fanagalo – that unique mixed-language consisting of English, Africans, Portuguese with some of the local Sena dialect thrown in for good measure – between PH and Tracker. When they stopped their discussion, Dylan turned to me with a smirk and stated: “Albiño says that the only thing that will happen if you go with him to get the ram is that he will have to carry both of you back.” Though chastened, I assumed Albiño knew what he was talking about. Turned out, that was a wise assumption.

Well, my new book, BRINGING BACK THE LIONS: International Hunters, Local Tribespeople, and the Miraculous Rescue of a Doomed Ecosystem in Mozambique, is nearly there! July 12th is the launch date - the date it will be “thrown out into the world”, to quote Winston Churchill about his own books. The print version is ready for the launch, with the E-book due within a week, and the Preface through Chapter 13 (of 21 chapters) of the audio book completed. Of all the forms of the book, the audio version has been the biggest surprise for me. What I mean is that listening to your words read by a trained actor both excites and surprises you as an author. Sometimes, I stop the recording, and ask “Did, I really write that?” Looking forward to the 12th!!

Excerpt from “THE RAREST OF LUCK - Hunting Exotic Deer in Yucatán’s Tropical Forest”, Sports Afield, November/December 2022

Excerpt from “Book Review of Craig Boddington’s Favorite Rifles and Cartridges”, Sports Afield, May/June, 2022

As the South African scientists detected, there is an Nyala population size below which co-occurring Bushbucks thrive. If the number of Nyalas exceed this limit, Bushbucks suffer, with extinction being a possible, even likely, outcome. So, what is on the horizon for the Coutada 11 Bushbucks? Obviously, leopards occur in the concession, and throughout the Marromeu Complex. However, leopard numbers are not high in Coutada 11. It is likely that they are too few and far between to have a capping effect on Nyala numbers, as indicated by the current, high density of these antelopes. There are reintroduced lions and cheetahs, with the numbers of the former growing rapidly. It is not known if either lions or cheetahs will prefer Nyalas as prey; one or both might take Bushbucks more often. Even if both predators like eating Nyalas more than Bushbucks, their control of the exploding Nyala numbers may come too late for the Coutada 11 Bushbucks, with the latter dropping below a sustainable population size from competition with their prolific cousin.

The probable outcome of the battle between Coutada 11’s Bushbucks and Nyalas is clear. Given the seriousness of the battle’s resolution, culling of Nyalas, plus encouraging an increase of leopards through continued habitat conservation and anti-poaching, seems a logical management scheme for Zambeze Delta Safaris. Without intervention, from humans and leopards, an iconic spiral-horned antelope, the Bushbuck, could disappear from the wonderful Coutada 11 landscape.

Using hidden cameras, or at least hidden to Nyalas and Bushbucks, scientists in the Maputaland Conservation Unit looked to see when and where the two species showed up on pictures from the same cameras. Bushbucks were present since humans first walked through the area. Nyalas were a recent introduction. Using the photographic evidence, the scientists could see where the Bushbucks still occurred in the presence of their cousins, and where they had gone extinct. In general, the findings pretty much supported what the Zambeze Delta Safaris’ staff concluded from careful observation and intuition, but with some fascinating twists.

It was clear from both past population counts and the recent camera traps that Bushbucks were in trouble in the Maputaland Conservation Unit, and in fact had gone extinct in many areas they used to occupy. Even where they hung on, current numbers of Bushbucks in some areas were down to 10s of animals where a 100 years ago they numbered in the thousands. Each-and-every case of Bushbuck loss in the South African Conservation Areas occurred after the introduction of the way-better performing Nyala. But, the fascinating part – to a nerdy scientist – was that not all Bushbuck populations were going extinct when they overlapped with their beefier cousin. Why was this case? And, more importantly, could it outline a rescue plan for the declining Coutada 11 Bushbucks?

The scientists in South African Conservancies noticed two factors that gave the Bushbucks a fighting chance in the face of the Nyala incursion. In the first place, they observed that humans could limit the Nyalas ability to drive Bushbucks to extinction through so-called culling. This conservation management practice has come under serious attack by many who feel that nature will work population balances out if left alone. Others argue against the practice simply based on emotions, arguing that killing off scores of animals is barbaric. Regardless of the emotional heat generated towards culling, animals always have limited resources, and some, like overpopulated elephants and Nyalas do terrible damage to their habitats including other species that get in the way of their excesses…

As Europeans started settling North America, mainly from East to West Coast, they ate everything that didn’t get out of their way, especially everything that carried meat protein. It thus comes as no surprise that larger animals disappeared first, including bison, elk, moose, pronghorn antelope and whitetail and mule deer. Smaller, but still significant meat sources accompanied, or quickly followed the local extinctions of the bigger meat sources; included were rabbits, squirrels, turkey, ducks, pigeons, doves etc. Thankfully, beginning in the 20th Century, conservation efforts focused on protection of remnant populations. They also emphasized the reintroduction of species by their own natural movements and through human-led transfers of game species into previously occupied territories. For the most part, the natural and man-made expansions of game animals have gone smoothly, giving rise to healthy populations. But, there have been some unexpected consequences.

One of North America’s conservation success stories has been the geographic and numerical expansion of the Wapiti, a.k.a. Elk. Pre-European invasion across North America, this magnificent animal roamed from East-to-West coast. Thought of nowadays as a mountain-loving species, herds of Elk stood in the path of settlers making their way across the plains, the low-slung hills and the river bottoms between the Mississippi River and Rocky Mountains. That there are now huntable populations once again in places like Kansas, speaks to this species’ wide-ranging ecological preferences and adaptabilities. That’s the basis of the unforeseen, negative impact from Elk moved by humans, or using their strong legs to spread themselves into more and more places. Standing right in the path of the expanding Elk were populations of whitetail and mule deer.

The impact of the reoccupation of habitat by Elk herds on whitetail deer seems minimal. Likely due to their greater population sizes and habitats that overlap less with Elk than do mule deer, whitetails thrive. Though capable of utilizing the river bottoms and thick woods inhabited by whitetails, Elk are ruminants with multiple stomachs – like cattle – so are primarily grazers. Whitetails are browsers, and utilize woods for not only bedding, birthing, and hiding from predators, but also as their primary feeding sites. This begs the question of why then, mule deer, also a species that prefers browsing, experiences population declines in the presence of the grazing Wapiti?

Scientists in the know agree that declining Mule Deer numbers is not only because of the expansion of their larger cousin. They do, though, see a correlation with loss of prime mule deer habitat, making competition from the much bigger, more numerous, and more adaptable, Elk, a serious problem for the smaller, less-adaptable mule deer. Analogous to the Nyalas and Bushbucks, the large herds of Elk can reach higher into the overhead vegetation and browse off available food before the mule deer get a meal. This forces the deer into marginal, lower-nutritional areas to avoid the better competitor. The competition becomes most intense during harsh winters when the Elk switch to being browsers – with grasses for grazing buried under several feet of snow. This is when the large size difference comes into play, with the 500 – 800-pound Wapitis capable of pushing the mule deer that weigh half as much off the limited feeding areas. The deer die in droves during bad winters, likely in higher numbers when Elk are there to eat most of the available food.

Returning to Coutada 11 and the Nyalas and Bushbucks, we can ask why the latter are declining in numbers. Is it just because of competition with the swarms of Nyalas? Before we look at possible answers, let’s revisit the ‘cousin’ status of these two species. Unlike the Elk and mule deer, that belong to the general ‘deer’ category, Nyalas and Bushbucks are kissing-cousins. Seriously, back a few million years ago a Bushbuck and an Nyala, or more likely several of each, made babies. Scientists know this because some of the Bushbucks and Nyalas running across the African landscape of today share the same DNA. In biological terms, this closeness means that competition for food, mating sites, places to hide from predators, and nursery areas could be even more intense than seen for species like Elk and Mule Deer. Or, not…

            We never did find an Nyala trophy, in an Nyala Garden, satisfying my PH’s strict requirements. But, the Gardens always had tens to hundreds of their namesakes; feeding through the clearings, browsing on the branches of shrubs and trees and, when we weren’t careful enough in our movements, rocketing through open spaces and disappearing into the forested margins. As we drove away from this first of my Nyala Garden experiences, I mentioned to Julian that I was surprised we had not seen the other spiral-horned species that preferred the same type of habitat, Chobe Bushbucks. Julian stated flatly “The Nyalas are much better competitors and the Bushbuck numbers are way down.” We did see, or hear the alarm bark from, the occasional Bushbuck while creeping through the Gardens, but those were rare encounters compared to the herds of Nyalas.

OK, so I’ll admit being a bit skeptical about Nyalas causing declines in Coutada 11’s Chobe Bushbuck populations. This was a tropical paradise with, to my eye, food enough for all the browsers and grazers. As a scientist, I knew better than to fall into the logical, intuitive trap set by my own ignorance. I fell in anyway. The only way out was to observe Coutada 11, survey more PHs and scientists working in the concession, and dig into the scientific and wildlife management literature. Before you despair, I’m not going to recite tons of undigested data, but there are some cool observations that even scientists occasionally stumble over and report. Trust me, I’m a professional scientist and know of what I speak – often, we must stumble over interesting findings before we see them…

Professional Hunter, Dylan Holmes, provided the next brick in the wall of my education about the impact of Nyala overpopulation. The instruction came on my second Safari in Coutada 11. Dylan and I were not hunting Nyalas, but instead searched for one of the Chobe Bushbuck rams. The rams possess beautiful red-brown hides dotted with white markings on rumps, and an Nyala-like crest of long cream-colored hairs running from tail to neck. Driving across one of the many open Pans, my PH pointed to the edge of the rapidly approaching forest. I thought Dylan was trying to get me to see an animal, but that was not the case. Pointing he asked “Do you see how all the trees are bare of leaves up to about the head height of a very tall person?” With that, I stopped squinting into the shadows, looking for an animal shape, instead broadening my gaze to take in the treeline. Sure enough, each tree and large bush looked like someone had gone through with electric hedge clippers, leaving a horizontal line of vegetation beginning at about 7 feet off the ground. I hazarded a guess, “Nyalas?” Dylan nodded and once at the forest edge, brought the Land Cruiser to a stop to let me look more closely at the browse-line. The trees weren’t just missing a few leaves, the lower branches were completely bare. “Our Bushbucks are in trouble from all the Nyalas. It’s not that adult Bushbucks can’t reach nearly as high into the trees as an Nyala, it’s that they don’t get to the browse before the greater numbers of Nyalas strip it clean.” The addition of an exclamation point to this lesson happened as we rounded the curve into the forest; a cow Nyala stood at attention, flanked by three generations of calves and a mature bull…

Tigre knew I wanted a male Curassow if possible, but I knew that females were also legal game, and that they came in a myriad of plumage types, all beautiful. So, when he turned to me pointed and asked “Solo Macho?” I replied “Hembra es muy bien.” That is when my guide showed his wisdom in the face of a client incapable of walking quietly through the surrounding forest. Kneeling at the edge of the leafy forest floor, Tigre scraped a circle large enough to accommodate my size 12 boots. With hand gestures, he told me to wait, stepped into the cleared patch, knelt, and cleared another circle a stride’s length further on. He stepped into the second circle of cleared ground and waved me forward into the patch behind him. We slowly made our way up the slope leading toward the calling birds. Finally, Tigre reached into his pocket and removed something resembling a fat pen. Having used one for years in my lectures, I realized I was looking at a laser pointer. Tigre gestured toward the tree immediately in front of us, and I raised the shotgun to my shoulder. The laser pointer came alive, and that was when I finally saw the outline of the bird sitting on a branch 30-feet above where we stood. At the shot, I watched in shocked disbelief as the obviously unhurt female Curassow took flight. Out of the corner of my eye, I registered that another bird of similar size flew from the tree vacated by the female into another tree to our right. “Macho!” Tigre hissed, and resettled the laser pointer indicating a reprieve; his tone also suggested that I not waste any time. Pumping the shotgun made a tremendous noise in the now quiet forest. I breathed deeply and held on the center of the massive bird. At the shot, the Macho Hocofaisán fell out of the air, striking the ground with a resounding thud. The smile of relief on Tigre’s face was enormous. I suspect it matched my own. He pumped my hand and pounded me on the back, yelling “Muy bien, muy, muy bien!!”

Excerpt from “Trophy Birds of the Yucatán Peninsula.” Hunter’s Horn, 2022.

O.K. so I need the reader to keep in mind that I am trying to make a point here. That being, the Sabbatical year forced on Outfitters and Professional Hunters not only in Africa but in places like Canada, Europe and Australia resulted in larger-than-average trophies within those regions when they reopened. If this hypothesis reflects accurately the outcome of subsequent years, then we can draw two conclusions. First, evolution works. Second, it might be worthwhile to reexamine management strategies in hunting concessions like Coutada 11.

Truly, I love big trophies. However, it is just as true that my greatest trophy to date is a doe whitetail taken when I was five, hunting with my Dad. It was my first big game animal and it represented my entering into the fellowship of hunting. So, trust me when I say that where my trophies place in the record books, though of interest to me, has never come close to the thrill of the hunt itself. If ‘records’ do ever start to mean more than the hunt, I hope I’ll shoot myself in the foot and hobble on home. Yet, one of the best metrics for testing the hypothesis that a Time Out produced larger-than-average trophy animals in Coutada 11, and by extension around the Globe, is to ask how my animals taken on two, 2021 Safaris fared in the premier record book, that of Safari Club International.

From a Safari Club International Record Book standpoint, there are two indicators to judge trophies, whether they have the measurements to earn an SCI ‘Medal’ and where they place relative to all other individuals recorded for that species. Like the Olympics, Medals come in three classes – Gold, Silver and Bronze – but unlike the Olympic Awards the three do not indicate first, second and third place finishes. Instead, the color of the medal reflects whether a trophy reached a minimum score based on length and thickness of horn, skull size or whatever other measurements are appropriate for a particular species. The second way to tell how large a trophy might be is to look at the Overall Ranking relative to every other individual of that species listed in the SCI Record Book. Was the trophy in the top 100 all-time scores, and earned a Gold medal? Or, was the animal too small to earn a medal of any color and fell in the lower ranges of all the scores for that game animal? One other factor to consider is the total number of record book entries. Back when I ran in races, placing meant quite a bit more if I was competing against 20, rather than two, other runners.

Where did my nine trophies from 2021 ‘place’? The answer is impressive. All nine earned medals; four Gold, three Silver and two Bronze. Seven of the nine animals placed in the Top 100, four of nine in the Top 50, two in the Top 25 and one in the Top 20 scores recorded by SCI. Maybe the most impressive statistic, however, is when we consider the actual placements compared to how many other animals my trophies are ‘running’ against. Bear with me: Blue Duiker = #32 of 653, Red Duiker = #16 of 550, Oribi = #54 of 245, Bushbuck = #22 of 1230, Suni = #26 of 381, Waterbuck = #58 of 2575, Nyala = #88 of 2602, Sable = #140 of 1806 and Warthog = #170 of 2955 entries. Though there are various sizes that have several animals with the same measurements, these numbers speak for themselves. My trophies taken in Coutada 11 after a forced Sabbath Year were very large indeed. To quote my PH, Dylan Holmes, after he measured my Bushbuck ram, “I have taken three bushbucks of this size in 25 years of guiding clients.” He said the same thing about my Red Duiker ram. The same is true of several of the trophy animals my PHs led me to. Not just amazing, but once-in-a-lifetime-finds, or maybe better expressed, once-after-a-Sabbatical-break-finds.

Sabbatical Years as a Conservation and Management Tool?

Is it possible to allow a Hunting Concession to ‘lay fallow’ for a year as God commanded the Israelites to do with their agricultural land every seven years? The simple answer is ‘no’. Outfitters and Professional Hunters can no more afford to go a year without pay than can anyone else. That is what happened in 2020 for many in the hunting business, and other professions for that matter. In hunting concessions this meant limited anti-poaching efforts and the loss of wildlife through the return of snares and gin traps.

“Please, no more country closures!” is the cry from all sectors of society across the world, but nowhere is this more felt than in the hunting/conservation arena. If Coutada 11 and the other hunting concessions throughout Africa are to resist the Poacher’s decimating work, funds must come in from international hunters. Period. Yet, seeing the quality of trophies taken by other hunters and myself in Coutada 11 during the 2021 season, I began to wonder if partial Sabbatical breaks might be possible? Could Sable Antelopes, for example, remain unhunted one year out of 10, with the amount of revenue lost from trophy fees etc collected from donors who appreciated the dividends in conservation and trophy management? Maybe the next year Waterbucks have the year off? And so forth on a rotating schedule. Maybe this is an unsustainable model. I don’t know. But I wonder if it doesn’t merit some thought.