72 http://www.africanhuntinggazette.com
Cameroon: 2019
I am sitting in a sparsely shaded spot among burnt grass stalks.Thousands of mopane
bees are swarming around me, settling on my eyes, nose and mouth, and sipping any
moisture they can find from my drenched clothing. There isno sense in trying to swat
them away asthere arejust toomany. Justendure it theway it is.Under myarmis an
emptywatercontainer, drainedof its contentsa longtimeago. Every muscle in my legs
andfeet are aching from the long march leading up to this point.
T
hrough my half-closed eyes I stare
down at the ground. I see my
outstretched leg, blackened by the
dustandsoot,witha leathergaiterscratched
anddriedoutbythelongdaysindryandhot
conditions.On myfeetare South African-
made shoes called Wildebeest, worn out,
scratched,and indireneedofa polish,the
front of the rubber sole recently separated
fromtherestoftheshoe,leavinga gapingand
hungryappearance.
I startreflectingonthe daythat started at
7:15a.m.andendingnowat12:30p.m...
MarkSchroderhailsfromHoustonTexas,
lovestheoutdoorsandany kindofactivity
thatgetshimthere.Wehadhuntedtogether
four years priorto this day, in the Selous
Game Reserve Tanzania. This time Mark
wanted to hunt somewhere different, and
wherehecouldhuntduringtheearlypartof
theyear,sowedecidedona giantelandhunt
in Cameroon.I havea friend wholeases a
communityconcessionclosetothevillageof
Poli,inthenorthofthecountry.I chosethis
areaas it is somuchcheaperthansomeofthe
prestigiousareasfurthersouth.Markagreed
and thehuntwasbookedforlate February
andintoearlyMarchof2019.
BythetimeMarkarrivedinGaroua,I had
beenhuntingfor a month or so already in the
elandarea.Wehadreachedthelastdayofour12-day
hunt.Markhadalreadyfilledhislicensewith
ClassB speciesandhadalsotakena verynice
redCentralAfricansavannahbuffalo.
Wewerestillspeedinginthetruckalongthe
dirttrack,toanareawhereweexpectedtofind
elandtracks, when thetrackers poundedon
theroofofthetruck,shouting,“Elan!Elan!”
It wasjustpast7 a.m.
MarkandI jumpedoutofthetruckbehind
the herd, and a huge giant eland bull was
facingus.Hisentirefacewastotallyblack.His
chest was broad and his neck was excessivelylarge.Thehornshadanoutwardsweepwith
heavy pronouncedridging spiraling towards
thetop.Whata beauty!
I placed the shooting sticks where we hadWe all gave chase on
tired and sore feet.
Mark with his very respectable bull.Our captivesin towbehind thetrackers,
actually tied together by their hands.a clear viewthrough a narrowgap between
thebushesabout 120 yardstothebull,fora
face-onshot,butMarkjustcouldnotgetthe
crosshairsstabilizedonhim.I feltthecoolof
thebreezeonmyneckas thewindshifted,like
so manytimesbefore onthehunt, and the
wholeherd,about 40 animals,thunderedoff
ina cloudofblackdust.“Eish!”wasallI could
muster. The trackers were also discouraged,
butwithsomeconvincing,offwewentforthe
umpteenthtime.
Thetrackingwasnotdifficult.Followingthe
deepimprintsinthedryearthwaseasyasthe
heavyhooveslefttheirmark.Theelandwere
obviouslyintentongettingasfarawayfrom
usas possible.
Thetracksled usnorthwesttowardssome
villages thatwe knewtheywouldnotenter,
soit wasa matteroftimebeforetheywould
stoporturn.Thisareawasalsofrequentedby
nomadsandtheircattlethatarenotsupposed
tobethere,astheycausea constantstruggle
betweenwildanddomesticanimals.
These nomads wander between countries
and zones with no respect or regard to rules