Day 5: Wednesday, Jan 23
This was another day spent tracking buffalo, still in my crocs. Guav tells me he is getting tired of seeing the same socks every day, but since he doesn’t wear socks while hunting, I can’t borrow any from him. These are light socks, and the beating they're taking means I now have holes in them. One more comment from Guav and he will be getting them as a gift when the safari is over . . . The combination of the socks and the crocs has led to some blisters, which is making this a bit more of a challenge that I was looking for! The problem is that the crocs don’t provide any real support, so as I walk on the uneven ground, my foot is constantly moving in the shoes. Over the course of some miles, blisters seem inevitable.
We do get close to some buffalo today a number of times, but only in the sense that we heard them running as we approached. The wind continues to be unreliable and to cause us problems. I’ve only seen the buffalo from a distance, and like other savannah buffalo I’ve seen (in Benin) they appear to smaller bodied than cape buffalo, but they come in a range of colours, from black to tan to roan. I’ve only ever shot black buffalo, so another colour might be fun. Is this a “colour variant” that so many hate in South Africa . . .?! These aren’t bred for colour, so I’m going to say I’m safe!
We did hear from the trackers that the scouts had told them that the poachers were “convinced” to talk, and it was in fact a very professional operation. A team in the bush, a team to pick up and take the meat to villages, and a distribution network. The scouts also found more bags of meat and another firearm. Hopefully that’s the end of this particular group . . . but that’s just a hope. It’s pretty clear to me, though, that but for the presence of hunters on the ground, poachers would have pretty free run of the place. That Mayo Oldiri has been at this for a number of decades in this area means they have been able to keep at least a reasonable lid on things, but it’s a never-ending challenge.
Day 6: Thursday, January 24
Some more “unusual” events today. First, as we were driving looking for buffalo tracks, the trackers stopped the truck. They’d seen a drag mark across the road. We got out to take a look, and sure enough, there was a pretty clear drag mark crossing the road and heading into the bushes. On one side of the road, about ten yards away, was small waterhole, so something must have been ambushed while drinking. . . and from the tracks next to the drag marks, it's a leopard. We follow the drag marks into the bush and within about 50 yards we find the animal under a tree. A reedbuck. We likely disturbed the leopard since it wouldn’t have left the reedbuck on the ground. There are hyenas everywhere here – we hear them calling almost every night – and a leopard, given a bit more time, would have hoisted the meal into a tree. We leave the carcass alone, and quietly back out. There are leopard here, and lions (the trackers pick up lion dung when they find it for ritual purposes), but neither is hunted.
We eventually do find some fresh buffalo tracks and start to follow them. Guav’s trackers are really excellent – I was really impressed when they were able to keep on eland tracks for hours on end, and they are no different with buffalo. At one point, after a couple of hours of tracking, the trackers freeze. One points to his ears and then to our right. We all look, but the bush is pretty dense, and we can’t see anything. There’s no more noise, though, so whatever it was that was moving has stopped. One tracker whispers something to Guav, and Guav mouths “poachers”. Seriously? Again? We move slowly forward, and then I see some people in the bush about 50 yards away. All of a sudden, a bunch of people come out of the bush, all dressed in camo! It turns out that these are the scouts, who have been tracking poachers, and they thought that we were the poachers. And we thought that they were the poachers. Given that both sides are armed, I could see the potential for a serious mis-understanding here! This is one time though, when a white face serves you well in Africa. As soon as they saw us, they knew we couldn’t be poachers! I did mention to Guav that given the tan he has, he really owed me for standing out as I do – though I am more bright red than white, sunburnt as I am. Did I mention I had brought sun block with me? And that it was in my luggage?
After some nervous laughter, and a brief conversation, we go our separate ways. We are back on the buffalo tracks, but within 20 minutes, the trackers say that there are other people ahead of us who also seem to be tracking the buffalo. Wonderful. We radio the scouts, who come over to have a look, and it turns out it was a small group of scouts who were following the buffalo looking for poachers who might also be following the buffalo. Got that? We’re tracking buffalo, which are being tracked by scouts, who are looking for poachers, who we assume are the poachers, who we are also tracking. Time for a break and some water. And time to call off the buffalo chase for the morning.
On our way back to camp, we saw a waterbuck not far from the road. It didn’t appear as if he’d seen us. Guav looked at him and said “good but not great horns.” I asked if he was old, Guav said he was, so I suggested we should dismount. We managed to get reasonably close – less than 100 yards, and I took the shot. He ran about 20 yards, and stood still. I gave him a second shot just to finish things off quickly. He ran another 20 yards and dropped dead. He would have died from the first shot relatively quickly, but better to end things quickly.
A nice Sing-Sing waterbuck (which is part of the defassa waterbuck family). The only difference I can see is that there is a whiteish patch on the rear rather than the white ring usually found there, and he was grayish rather than brownish. I have a nice common waterbuck with horns a bit longer but much more massive than these, but I was happy to have this one as well.
We then headed back to camp to find that in our absence, it had truly become an “armed camp.” There were two trucks of the best equipped soldiers I have ever seen in Africa. Each soldier wore new-looking and pressed camo uniforms, with knee pads and polished boots. They had Kevlar helmets, black balaclavas and ski goggles. Each wore a bullet proof vest which held multiple clips for FN automatic weapons, all of which were kitted out with various attachments, including one for night vision. They also each had a side arm, and again, a number of clips. Black leather gloves with “BIR” on them. Wearing the helmet and goggles, you would not see a square inch of human skin. I couldn’t tell what all of that would weigh, but it would be a lot. I was quietly told not to take any pictures of the soldiers.
BIR stands for “Battalion d’Intervention Rapide” or Rapid Intervention Battalion in English. This is the Cameroon equivalent of special forces, which reports directly to the President of Cameroon, outside of the normal army chain of command. According to Wikipedia, they are equipped by the US, and are trained by the US and Israel. At any given time there are several hundred US military advisors working with the BIR.
The leader of the group, who wore no obvious insignia of rank, or name, approached us. He spoke fluent English and introduced himself. He was concerned about the reports of armed poachers, and was particularly concerned that there not be any incidents involving American hunters. I was going to point out that I was Canadian, but a look from Guav told me now was not the time to explain the difference to the Officer. In any event, they were in the area due to their work against Boko Haram (on top of armed poachers; just what I need), and were happy to do what they could to help out. Guav gave them the details of the poaching activity, and of the morning’s run-in with the scouts. After a nice chat, they went looking for our scouts in the bush. But not before I asked a soldier nicely if I could take his picture. He said no problem, but first wanted to get the balaclava up to cover his face.
This might be a good time to point out that while the poachers have had really no impact on our hunting, I can’t say the same for insects, which have been hammering me. As I said, the savannah is refreshingly free of thorns. The same can’t be said for bugs. There are enough mopane flies attracted to sweat to drive even the sanest person crazy if you stand still for too long. But these are only a nuisance. The tse-tse flies are a challenge. These aren’t uniformly distributed, so you may not see any, depending on where you are. But if you cover enough ground, you will eventually come into contact with them or, rather, they will come into contact with you. We eventually gave up trying to kill them, on the basis that we weren’t making a dent in the population, and settled for trying to swat them. They are hard to kill – pinching the head off is the only reliable method I’ve found, but if you can grab one, and if you roll it between your fingers hard enough, you might just kill it.
This is a picture of my legs by the end of the day. I do have repellant, in my luggage, which is where my topical anti-itch lotion is. But of course, my luggage is somewhere else. I do have an oral antihistamine with me, or I wouldn’t get much sleep at night. As it is, I spend a great deal of time scratching, and entertaining myself by thoughts of bringing some of those doctors who tell you “don’t scratch” to the Savannah for a brief lesson.
I'm rapidly developing sympathy for the people you see on "Naked and Afraid."