Feathers & Whiskey is a Southern lifestyle brand born in North e South while charting stories from across the globe. Our motto—Southern Roots + Global Adventure—is more than a slogan; it’s the thread that runs through everything we do. Published quarterly, the magazine blends heritage, travel, sporting tradition, and refined storytelling. We welcome submissions of writing and photography that align with our vision. Visit our website for current guidelines and submission details. feathersandwhiskey.com
African Horseback Safaris
FEATURED ARTICLES
Harry Selby 100th Birthday 20
We commemorate the 100th anniversary of the birth of legendary professional hunter Harry Selby
Horseback Safari: Botswana 28
Brian Smith and his wife set off on a thrilling horseback safari through Botswana’s wild and wondrous Okavango Delta.
Bing Crosby Wing Shooting 46
Bing Crosby’s voice serenaded the world, but it was the call of Africa’s wild uplands that stirred his sporting soul.
Photo Courtesy of Rebekah Knight
DEPARTMENTS SUMMER 2025
Canvas & Hide
Art, fashion, and craftsmanship from across Africa
Saving African Cave Art 14
The Safari Life
Lodges, Camps, & Landscapes
Five Words to Know on Safari 18
Safari Cocktails: DAWA 24
The Southerner’s Guide to Safari: Boots 54
Field & Game
Stories of Tracks, Triggers, and Timeless Country
Bookshelf: Bow Hunting Africa 26
Rigby 250th Anniversary 42
Buffalo, Lions, and a Wildebeest Charge! 59
Contributors
Editor’s Letter
Old Africa
Flora & Fauna
Fiction
“I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of the Ngong Hills.”
― Karen Blixen, Out of Africa.
This year marks the 140th anniversary of the birth of Danish author Karen Blixen(1885-1962), known to many by her pen name, Isak Dinesen. Her memoir Out of Africa, published in 1937, captured the soul of a continent and the years she spent on her beloved farm in Kenya from 1914 to 1931.
In 1985, her story found new life on screen with Meryl Streep and Robert Redford bringing it to cinema. And here—drawn in quiet lines and sepia memory—we see her once more, walking the path home, as if the hills still knew her name..
A Southern Roots + Global Adventure Magazine
FEATHERS & WHISKEY CONTRIBUTORS
Michael Maynor
is a proud native of North Carolina with a deep love for the sporting lifestyle and everything Southern. My book collection seems to grow endlessly, and I have a particular fondness for collecting vintage duck decoys. Despite appearing content, my heart longs to return to Africa for another safari adventure. John 3:16.
Castillo
is a retired law enforcement officer and Marine, Edgar was born in Guatemala and found his passion for upland hunting after moving to the U.S. He now roams public lands chasing wild birds in wild places. A contributing writer for multiple publications, you can follow his adventures on Instagram at @hunt_birdz.
Robbie Perdue
is a native North Carolinian who enjoys cooking, butchery, and is passionate about all things BBQ. He straddles two worlds as an IT professional and a farmer who loves heritage livestock and heirloom vegetables. His perfect day would be hunting deer, dove, or ducks then babysitting his smoker while watching the sunset over the black water of Lake Waccamaw
is an avid outdoorsman passionate about fly fishing, wing shooting, Safari hunting, and equestrian activities. He lives with his wife Gretchen in Alabama, and together they enjoy spending time with their horses and sporting dogs on trails, rivers, and in the sporting field. To read more of Brian’s adventures, you can follow him on Instagram @bohemianadventure
Edgar
Brian R Smith
William Hess-Martin
is a hunter, writer, and artist from southern Quebec. His work delves deeply into mythological and psychological themes, particularly the complex relationship between humanity and the natural world. Drawing inspiration from his experiences in the wild, he explores how ancient myths and modern sensibilities intersect in the human experience of nature. Instagram@venatic_opus
is an outdoor writer based on Oak Island, NC, where he lives with his wife, Melinda, and their spoiled Labrador, Mac. A lifelong sportsman and retired university professor, Steve has written for numerous outdoor publications, including Virginia Wildlife Magazine. He is the author of three books, including Outdoors Year Round: A Guide to Fishing and Hunting in Coastal Virginia and North Carolina. He enjoys hunting, fishing, and travel
Doug Pelton
is a recent transplant from South Carolina that now proudly calls the Old North State home. He has been an avid outdoorsman for as long as he can remember and he is happiest when he is outdoors chasing trout with a fly rod, Bobwhite quail with his two English pointers and a vintage shotgun, in the African bush or anywhere in between. When he is not involved in outdoor pursuits, he enjoys reading books from the golden age of safari and enjoying time with his family and all the Carolinas has to offer.
CONTRIBUTORS
Steve Ausband
To Africa, With Whiskey
Africa has a way of staying with you. It gets under your skin, settles in your bones, and stirs something in the soul that never fully fades. For me, this issue is more than a collection of stories—it’s a love letter to a land that continues to call me back, again and again.
Our Africa Edition is always one I look forward to. Not that the others don’t stir excitement, but this one allows me to share something deeply personal. Within these pages, you’ll find a photo essay of Brian Smith and his wife as they explore Botswana’s Okavango Delta on horseback—a journey as intimate as it is wild. We mark the 100th anniversary of the last known photograph of the Barbary lion, a haunting reminder of what’s been lost and what must be protected. We celebrate the life of legendary professional hunter Harry Selby and the enduring legacy of Rigby Firearms, now 250 years strong.
You’ll also find practical insight for your own adventure: the best boots for safari, the five Swahili words you need to know, and a sip of Africa in the form of a DAWA cocktail.
So pour a whiskey, find a quiet place, and let this issue carry you across the red earth, thorn scrub, and timeless wonder of Africa.
Welcome to Feathers & Whiskey. Wildly Refined.
Michael Maynor Editor-in-Chief
Barbary Lion: The Final Image
A century since the last known photograph of the lion that once ruled North Africa
By William Hess-Martin
The year was 1925. A propeller plane skimmed through the thin air of the near-cloudless heights over the Atlas Mountains, en route from Dakar in French West Africa, transporting its passengers north to Casablanca in the French Protectorate of Morocco.
The mountain’s high-reaching peaks and jagged facades had inspired the ancient Greek explorers who first witnessed them to find an appropriate title in the name of the primordial Titan, for they were the pillars that held up the sky.
As the plane passed high above the once-mythic structure, one of its passengers, a French military photographer named Marcelin Flandrin, suddenly noticed something walking across a carpet of snow, making its way down a hallway of worn stone. Raising his plate camera to the window, Flandrin made a quick exposure— he likely had no idea that what he had just taken was the last known photograph of the Barbary lion. Having been welladapted to mountainous and semi-forested terrain, the Barbary lion once ruled a domain that spanned from the Maghreb coast in West Africa to Egypt in the east, and as far south as the northern fringe of the Sahara. During the expansive reign of the Roman Empire, the heavy-set and dark-maned panthera was an ideal choice for the
Venationes—gladiatorial games that pitted man against beast. The lions were hunted throughout Roman ruled North Africa, captured in pitfall traps or nets, sedated with opium, and transported to the Eternal City, where they were killed by the thousands in bloody pageantry within the Colosseum.
Yet the history of capture and transportation of Barbary lions was not solely for the purpose of ritualistic slaying— several were taken as live specimens. The Moroccan sultan’s royal collection of lions, often referred to as “Moroccan Royal Lions,” played a significant role in the story of the subspecies. For centuries, Moroccan sultans kept lions in their lavish palatial gardens. Overtime, many were gifted to foreign rulers, or sent to various menageries and zoos throughout Europe and the United States. It is possible that remnants of these long-passed individuals still remain—diluted, yet true—within the blood of their distant offspring.
Despite the blood lust held for these creatures, the Barbary lion remained a symbol of nobility, gracing the heraldry of Medieval Europe. This aesthetic trend continued as Christian and Islamic kingdoms rose in North Africa, however, so did the decline of the subspecies, with its noble status presenting as opportune game for elites
A Barbary lion (Panthera leo leo) from Algeria.1893
who sought to carry forth the royal venatic traditions of the ancient world. By the 19th century, European colonial expansions into North Africa wrought further devastation onto the subspecies. Lions were hunted both for their retained archaic status, as well as systematically killed as livestock-threatening vermin. The once-apex predator found its extinction in the wild, likely between the 1940s and 1960s.
Recent genetic studies have attempted to link surviving lions to the Barbary lion, and although some evidence has been found, opinions remain inconclusive. This is primarily due to the fact that researchers have yet to rule out the possibility that the lions kept by the Moroccan royal family were the result of breeding with sub-Saharan African lions. Efforts toward resurrecting the subspecies
as it once was, and rewilding its former North African domain, remain distant from their goal. However, there is considerable global momentum behind the restoration of ecosystems, namely through the reintroduction of keystone species and the revival of natural processes, such that the reestablishment of the Barbary lion as a wild animal is not an impossible task.
For millennia, the hunting and killing of a lion symbolized the ultimate domination over the powers of nature. However, when that goal was finally achieved, and all of the regal volatility of the majestic lion was overcome, the promised potency—the teleological glory—rang with the bitter, anticlimactic note of the death of beauty. F&W
Flandrin’s photo is haunting, both in composition and in the expressive posture of the lion. He appears steadfast and listening, ever curious as to why his beckoning roars have not been answered by a like-kind in years.
Canvas of The Ancients
Stephen
Townley Bassett’s Lifelong
Pursuit to Save Rock Art from Time and Weather
Stephen works to lift the scars of modern hands from ancient stone
By Michael Maynor
Picture this: Charleston, a city that exudes Feathers & Whiskey, comes alive every February for the Southeastern Wildlife Exposition. We were fortunate enough to attend this incredible event last February and let me tell you, it was an experience to remember. From the moment we stepped foot into the artist exhibit, we were captivated by the sheer talent and creativity on display. With approximately 90 artists showcasing their works in the Fine Art Gallery at The Charleston Place, there was something for everyone’s artistic palate. During our exploration, we stumbled upon a fascinating encounter with a South African artist named Stephen Townley Bassett.
It all started when he took notice of our stylish polos embroidered with the words ‘Feathers & Whiskey.’ Some curious onlookers even wondered where the whiskey was hidden, which brought a smile to our faces. Little did we know that this encounter would lead us down a path of discovery and appreciation for the incredible artistry of Mr. Bassett.
Stephen Townley Bassett has dedicated more than three decades to studying and preserving the rich rock art heritage of Southern Africa. His passion has taken him to remote locations, where he has observed and meticulously documented these vulnerable masterpieces that are at risk of being lost to weathering damage.
One particular endeavor that caught our attention was Stephen’s assignment to document the “Jewel of Drakensberg.” This aweinspiring panel, measuring a staggering 70 inches in width, is situated on the roof of a site and took Stephen an impressive four months to complete. Today, the magnificent “Christmas Shelter” painting finds its home at the Rock Art Research Institute at Wits University in Johannesburg, South Africa.
Tradition, Technique, and the Tools of Time
What sets Stephen’s work apart is his commitment to authenticity. He deliberately avoids modern paints and brushes, opting instead to use the natural pigments and animal hair brushes that closely resemble those used by the original artists. Stephen takes the time to experiment with the various pigments used by those artists from long ago. Stephen’s dedication to grinding his own pigments and using fire has not only placed him in a unique category of artists, but an internationally respected specialist in ancient pigment making and implementation. This dedication to staying true to the art form adds a remarkable depth to his creations.
Stephen’s documentary art caught the attention of many, and his works were featured in the book “Sea Change,” released alongside the Oscar-winning film “My Octopus Teacher” in 2022. This recognition further solidified his position as a masterful artist and dwocumentarian of ancient art forms.
“When painting, I make notes in the margins of the canvas. These notes form an integral part of the artwork and are displayed for the viewer to read. They may reflect aspects of the animal, notions, or ideas that come to me while painting.”
Painting Waterdown Dam, Whittlesea District, Eastern Cape, South Africa
“I see conservation of wildlife as very similar to that of rock art. The process of conserving something begins with an awareness of it!”
Stephen’s passion doesn’t stop at documentation. He actively engages in conservation efforts, tirelessly working to remove graffiti from vandalized sites. Through his efforts, he hopes to preserve and protect these ancient treasures for generations to come
Stephen’s expertise in re-creating and documenting rock art has also influenced his wildlife artwork. He incorporates his knowledge of ancient paint-making techniques to infuse depth and texture into his canvases. To make his art even more engaging and meaningful, he adds animal spoor (tracks and signs) and includes descriptive text in the margins. These notes provide a glimpse into his artistic process and offer a deeper understanding of the animals he portrays. “When painting, I make notes in the margins of the canvas.
These notes form an integral part of the artwork and are displayed for the viewer to read. They may reflect aspects of the animal, notions, or ideas that come to me while painting,” Stephen explains with passion.
Like his efforts to document and save rock art for generations to come, Stephen also believes that art has the power to assist in the conservation of the wildlife that he paints. He states “I see the conservation of wildlife as very similar to that of rock art. The process of conserving something begins with an awareness of it, followed by education. Only when we are educated about the value of something, can we begin to understand the need to conserve and manage it responsibly. Wildlife art helps promote the awareness and beauty of the faunal environment around us.”
With fire as his muse, Stephen transforms heat into hue, forging color through flame
As I someone that has a deep passion and love of Africa and her wildlife, It his words really resonate with me, each time I have traveled to Africa and come home, people would question why someone would go hunting there, and I have explained to them the benefits that come to wildlife and local communities from the dollars spent by hunters, once they are aware and have a different perspective it changes their view, awareness and education are key to help save African wildlife.
In a world where the echoes of history sometimes fade, Stephen emerges as a vibrant voice, reviving Africa’s rock art traditions and bringing them to the forefront of contemporary artistic expression. With their compelling artistry, they bridge the gap between past and present, inviting us all to marvel at the enduring treasures of Africa’s rock art heritage. F&W
Karren Bassett shares her husbands work at SEWE in Charleston, SC
Conservation and a love of Africa
Simba (SEEM-bah)
Meaning: Lion
Usage: The king of the bush. You may hear it whispered with reverence on a game drive.
Field Note: Also the Swahili word for strength, pride, and often used in names.
Asante
(ah-SAHN-teh)
Meaning: Thank you
Usage: Whether your tracker spots a leopard or your waiter brings you a sundowner, “Asante” is always in season!
Field Note: Add “sana” (sah-nah) for extra gratitude: “Asante sana” means “Thank you very much!”
Polepole
(Poh-leh POH-leh)
Meaning: Slowly, Slowly
Usage: A way of life. You will hear this as you climb hills, cross rivers, or wait for elephants to pass.
Field Note: It’s not just about pace
Twende
(TWEHN-day)
Meaning: Let’s go!
Usage: Your PH might call this out as the Safari Truck rolls of out of camp or as you follow tracks into thick mopane
Field Note: Often paired with a smile or a nod toward adventure
Top 5 Swahili Words to Know on Safari
Speak the language of the land. These simple words open doors, spark smiles, and remind us we’re guests in a wild and wondrous world.
(JAHM-boh)
Meaning: Hello
Usage: Universal greeting. You’ll hear this warm welcome in camps, villages, and bush airstrips alike.
Field Note: Return the greeting with a smile and a “Jambo!” of your own—you’ve just made a friend.
Jambo
HARRY SELBY
CELEBRATING 100 YEARS OF A SAFARI LEGEND,
By
Michael Maynor
July 22, 2025, marks what would have been the 100th birthday of Harry Selby, one of the most legendary professional hunters to ever walk the African bush. From the sprawling landscapes of Kenya to the untamed wilderness of Botswana, Selby carved out a legacy that is inseparable from the golden era of African safaris. His name became synonymous with adventure, precision, and an intimate knowledge of the African wilderness. Yet, perhaps his most enduring claim to fame was his association with American writer Robert Ruark, whose books immortalized Selby’s expertise and made him a household name among hunters and dreamers alike.
This centennial tribute celebrates the life and legacy of a man who not only defined the African safari but also preserved its mystique for generations to come.
Harry Selby with a formidable Cape buffalo taken on safari. Robert Ruark once wrote that the buffalo “looks at you as if you owe him money”—a line from Horn of the Hunter that helped cement not only Ruark’s legacy in safari literature, but Selby’s place in African hunting history.
CHILDHOOD AMONG BEASTS
Born on July 22, 1925, in Frankfort, Free State, South Africa, Selby moved to Kenya at a young age, where his parents had acquired 40,000 acres of prime ranch land in the shadow of Mount Kenya. Their cattle ranch was as much a sanctuary for wildlife as it was for livestock, with herds of zebra, eland, and impala roaming freely. The occasional presence of buffalo, elephants, lions, and leopards brought both awe and conflict, necessitating hunts to protect their animals.
From the age of eight, Selby was entrusted with his own single-shot .22 rifle, a decision that proved to be a pivotal moment in his life. He quickly became adept at marksmanship, supplying the family’s table with guinea fowl, francolin, and gazelle. More importantly, he learned the ways of the bush from experienced local trackers, men who could read the landscape as fluently as words on a page. These early experiences laid the foundation for a career that would take him to the heights of the professional hunting world.
THE MAKING OF A PROFESSIONAL HUNTER
Selby’s entry into the professional hunting world came through Philip Percival, a veteran white hunter who had guided luminaries such as Theodore Roosevelt and Ernest Hemingway. Initially hired as a field mechanic, Selby’s skill with firearms and deep understanding of the bush soon earned him a new role as an apprentice hunter. By the age of 22, he was leading clients on safaris, his reputation growing as a young but exceptionally skilled guide. In 1949, at the age of 24, Selby joined Ker & Downey Safaris, one of the most prestigious safari outfits in Africa. It was there, just two years later, that fate would introduce him to the man who would change his life forever—Robert Ruark.
ROBERT RUARK & “HORN OF THE HUNTER”
Ruark, an American journalist and novelist, had come to Africa seeking an authentic safari experience. He found more than he bargained for in Harry Selby. The two men formed a fast friendship, and Ruark was so enthralled by his safari with Selby that he chronicled the experience in Horn of the Hunter (1953).
The book was an instant success, and Field & Stream magazine would later call it “very arguably, the best book on African hunting ever written.” The vivid storytelling and Ruark’s firsthand accounts of hunting dangerous game under Selby’s guidance captured the imagination of sportsmen around the world. It transformed Selby into an icon overnight—so much so that he became fully booked years in advance by clients eager to experience the African bush under his expertise.
Ruark wasn’t finished. He went on to write the 1955 novel, Something of Value, which blended fiction with reality, drawing from Selby’s experiences growing up in colonial Kenya. While this newfound fame brought incredible opportunities, Selby later admitted that maintaining such a reputation for 40 years was the real challenge.
Harry Selby with the skull of a greater kudu— often called the “Grey Ghost” for its elusive nature and quiet grace.
A NEW FRONTIER: MOVING TO BOTSWANA
By the early 1960s, political uncertainty loomed over Kenya, and the future of hunting was in doubt. Seeking stability, Selby accepted a directorship with Ker, Downey & Selby Safaris and turned his focus to Bechuanaland (now Botswana). In 1963, he moved with his wife and children to Maun, a small town on the edge of the Okavango Delta, and secured a 12,000-square-kilometer hunting concession near Chobe National Park.
Seeing the area’s potential, he built a bridge over the Khwai River. As demand for photographic safaris grew, Selby adapted, opening Khwai River Lodge in 1970, Botswana’s first luxury lodge of its kind. For decades, he guided wealthy hunters, royalty, and Hollywood stars through the bush with trademark professionalism.
Among those shaped by his mentor ship was professional hunter Joe Coogan, who met Selby in Nairobi in 1972 through Bill Ryan. Fresh out of college and looking for a start, Coogan described the meeting as “the equivalent of a garage band opening for the Rolling Stones.” Weeks later, he relocated to Botswana for a two-year apprenticeship under Selby. His first season was based at Khwai, where he learned new terrain, new game, and the quiet precision Selby embodied. In time, Harry entrusted him with guiding bird hunts—a gesture that spoke volumes.
Robert Ruark and Harry Selby with an East African eland taken during Ruark’s first safari in Tanganyika (now Tanzania). Ruark, eager to hunt with the famed gun bearer Kidogo (center), was advised to hunt with whichever white hunter was using him at the time—luckily, that was Harry Selby. The safari would later inspire Ruark’s iconic book, Horn of the Hunter, and set the stage for the long waitlist to hunt with Selby.
Harry’s .416
After a vehicle crushed his double rifle in 1949, Harry Selby picked up a .416 Rigby boltaction from a Nairobi gun shop—more out of necessity than choice. But from the first shot, he was hooked. Powerful, accurate, and familiar in the hand, the rifle quickly became his trusted companion. His Wakamba gunbearers affectionately nicknamed it “Skitini,” when they were unable to pronounce “four-sixteen”and Selby never returned to a double rifle again
LEGACY OF A LEGEND
Harry Selby’s influence stretched far beyond the safaris he led. His impact on safari culture, conservation, and storytelling ensured that the romance of African hunting would endure. He was known not just for his incredible marksmanship and deep knowledge of the bush but also for his honor, integrity, and quiet confidence.
He passed away in Maun, Botswana, on January 20, 2018, at the age of 92, having spent his life doing what he loved.
His legacy is carried on through the countless stories written about him, the bridge he built over the Khwai River, and the indelible mark he left on Africa’s hunting history.
On this 100th anniversary of his birth, we raise a glass to Harry Selby—a man who embodied the spirit of adventure, the traditions of the great African safari, and the unwavering respect for the land he called home.
A very special thank you to Joe Coogan for providing images for this article!
Top: Harry with his .416 Rigby
Bottom: Harry and Joe Coogan with a buffalo taken in 1975
DAWA
The Medicine of Mara
The Dawa Cocktail
Ingredients:
• 2 Oz Vodka
• 1 tablespoon honey
• 1 fresh lime, cut into wedges
• Crushed ice
• Dawa stick ( or a wooden honey dipper)
Instructions:
1. Place lime wedges in a short glass and muddle well to release juice
2. Add honey and stir or muddle again with Dawa stick
3. Fill the glass with crushed ice.
4. Pour vodka over the top and stir vigorously until the honey dissolves and the drink is icy cold
5. Serve with the stick still in the glass-the stirring is part of the ceremony
In Swahili, dawa means “medicine”—and in Kenya, it’s more than just a word. It’s a ritual. A cure-all. A toast to good health, friendship, and the kind of evenings that stretch long past sunset.
There are two beloved versions of the Dawa: one is a comforting tea brewed with ginger, lemon, and a spoonful of honey—often served in the homes of East Africa as a remedy for colds or weary bones. The other, far more spirited version, is the cocktail born at Nairobi’s legendary Carnivore restaurant and now found at safari camps across Kenya. Both share one golden thread: honey.
Here, we’re tipping our hat to the cocktail—the kind served under canvas, beside a fire, with the sound of distant hyenas on the wind.
Discover Zambia
WITH STRANG MIDDLETON SAFARIS
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WhatsApp: +260977826889 www middletonsafaris com
If you’ve ever dreamed of taking your bow to Africa, this is the book you need to read!
There are few things in life more humbling than drawing back a bowstring under the African sun. On my first safari, rifle in hand, I was lucky enough to borrow a bow from my PH, Strang Middleton, and take a shot at an impala ram. I missed—but that moment meant the world. I grew up archery hunting, and to release an arrow on African soil felt like something sacred. It also deepened my respect for the man standing beside me.
I trusted Strang with my life tracking Cape buffalo, and I trust the wisdom he’s shared in Bowhunting Africa. This isn’t just a guide—it’s a conversation around the campfire
with someone who’s lived the hunt and knows it by heart.
For Strang, archery isn’t a hobby; it’s a way of life. And when a man like that puts pen to paper, it’s worth reading.
Inside, you’ll find practical advice on gear, tactics, and navigating some of the continent’s most challenging species with a bow. More importantly, you’ll hear Strang’s voice in every story and bit of guidance—reminding hunters to communicate clearly with their guides, respect the land, and savor the experience.
Because once Africa takes hold of you, there’s no shaking it. With this book in hand, you’ll be better prepared when you go back—because you will want to go back. - Michael M.
HORSEBACK Safari in Botswana
Written By Brian Smith
Photographs by Brian Smith | Opening Image Courtesy of African Horseback Safaris
The deep, resonant roar of a lion shattered the early morning stillness, sending a shiver through the canvas walls of our tent. Lying in the dark, my wife, Gretchen, and I listened as the King of the Delta announced his presence. Outside, the first golden hues of dawn stretched across the Okavango, revealing buffalo grazing in the distance and a hippo stirring in a nearby pool. Soon, the rhythmic hoof beats of our horses would carry us across these vast floodplains, weaving through herds of zebra, elephants, and giraffe in a way few ever experience—safari by horseback, where adventure is felt in every stride.
Uuhaa, uuhaa, uuhaa” that was the low guttural sound that awakened us early in the morning as we lay in our camp beds on a cool night in the Okavango Delta of Botswana. I turned to Girdy and said, “did you hear that?” We lay still and heard it again. It started with the low uuhaa, uuhaa, uuhaa, then the low guttural sound went up a few octaves and then into an all-out roar. The King had awakened, and he was letting everyone know he was there. The African lion roaring in the bush leaves a lasting impression on one, especially in the stillness of a dark early morning, sleeping behind a thin layer of olive drab canvas. We were resting comfortably in our green canvas wall tent in the Macatoo horse camp. It was a luxurious tent that blended seamlessly into the natural surrounds providing an authentic bush haven. As I lay in the coolness of the night listening to the lions, looking through the zippered screen door at the front of the tent, I watched as the sun started to come up over the horizon, casting a yellow/orange hue over the vast swamplands of the Delta that stretched out before us.
There was a herd of buffalo feeding out into the grass of the swamp to the left and a hippo making a fuss in the pool to the right front of our deck. As the daylight was breaking I heard the footsteps coming up the path and an African lady showed up on our deck, balancing a tray on her head carrying a pot of French pressed coffee, a pot of tea and English biscuits. She came on the deck and announced herself as she gave us our wake-up call then entered the tent and Girdy and I had tea in bed.
After our morning tea and getting dressed we made our way to the communal area of the camp for breakfast. They had a nice fire going and we had a breakfast prepared of hard-boiled eggs, cereal, oatmeal, with bread that was toasted over an open fire. We sat in the comfortable camp chairs arranged around the fire and had light conversation with the other quests.
We had quite an assortment of different nationalities. There were guests from England, Wales, Australia, France, Germany, New Zealand and Austin Texas. After breakfasting our guide, Chief, took us down to the stables to meet the horses. The horses were mostly Nambian warmbloods of varying color variations and sizes. Gretchen was riding Mokoka, a 14.3 hand dark bay with black mane and I rode Danny, a 16-hand grey horse. We had ridden these same horses the previous afternoon after we first arrived in camp on a Cessna Caravan landing on dirt strip outside the camp.
After a short ride to camp in a Toyota Land Cruiser and being greeted by a singing staff we went out for a short afternoon ride soon after arrival and observed a good sampling of wildlife. This morning we went out on a much brisker and longer ride and an English
couple Phil and Donna accompanied us with our guide Chief taking the lead and we were followed by another guide, Peck, in our rear. We did a lot of cantering and running on this ride. We observed a wide variety of wildlife. We saw, kudu, red hartebeest, red lechwe, bushbuck, wildebeest, tsessebe, impala, zebra, giraffe, waterbuck, reedbuck, baboons, cape buffalo, hippo, crocodile, and elephants on this ride.
We ran alongside herds of zebra and wildebeest at full speed. It was exhilarating riding at a gallop across the open planes and swampy grasslands chasing herds of game. We came upon several herds of elephants. We had to approach them carefully.
Chief would quietly explain their behavior and how to read the signs of when they were relaxed or alarmed. We had to be careful around the elephants as we did not want to provoke a charge from an alarmed elephant herd.
We were also able to ride up close to a group of giraffes and observe them feeding in the bush. It was surreal riding through the vast swathes of Delta that was inaccessible by vehicle and observe large herds of undisturbed animals in their natural habitat.
After riding for a couple of hours we came upon a small hill with a tree and an ancient termite mound next to the tree. Chief had us stop as he rode around the hill and looked around the hill and the termite mound to make sure there were not any lions or a leopard lying in the shade. Once he was satisfied the area was safe we rode into the shade on the side of the hill and tied the horses to some dead fall. Chief pulled the 458 Winchester Magnum bolt action rifle out of his well-oiled scabbard and propped it against a tree that had fallen over and pulled out some apples from his saddle bag so that we could have a snack and rest for a while.
After a twenty-minute rest we continued our ride, riding through a lot of water and observing quite a few elephants before heading back to camp around noon. Once back at camp we had lunch and took a siesta during the heat of the day until about 4 pm. We had afternoon tea around the fire from 4 to 4:30 then headed to the stables to be introduced to a fresh pair of horses for the afternoon ride. On the evening ride Gretchen rode a dark bay horse named Zorba and I rode a large bay horse with floppy ears named Hurane. We headed out and soon came across a flooded area where we had to cross and a section of it was deep up to the smaller horses’ bellies. As we started to cross Gretchen’s horse started to paw at the water then proceeded to lay down. I looked over and I saw Gretchen standing in her stirrups, water up to her thighs and only the head of her horse above the water, she was able to get the horse stood back up and moving through the water and managed to stay in the saddle. We continued to ride observing the wildlife and stopping to observe herds of elephants. At one point we came upon a young bull elephant that was standing under a tree by a termite mound.
We stopped for a moment to see what he was going to do, and he skipped through all of the warning signs Chief had briefed us on and went straight to the charge. Everyone behind Chief did a 180 on their horses and we followed Peck out and Chief stood the ground with the young bull and was able to back him off his charge then we continued our ride. We managed the rest of the ride with no elephant charges or swimming with the horses and headed back to camp just as the sun was setting. The African sunset are spectacular as the sun turns a blood orange color and is breathtaking.
Once back in camp we freshened up then went out to the fire behind the communal area and had cocktails and conversation with the other guests before being served dinner under the stars on a table with white tablecloth. We had pumpkin soup, Kudu fillet, and an assortment of vegetables served with wine. After dinner we sat by the fire for more cocktails and conversation, and I had a nice smoke with my pipe under the clear African sky. That night we slept very soundly because we were worn out and sore from the riding.
The next morning Gretchen and I decided to take a break from the horseback riding as we were still a little sore from the previous days’ rides. We opted to go out in the Land Cruiser with Tsabo as our guide and do wildlife viewing from the vehicle. We had a very nice morning getting to view a large amount of wildlife. We found a waterhole with a pod of hippos in it and watched it for a while. I brought my binoculars and big camera along. It was nice being able to go out in the vehicle and take some pictures.
Horse back riding is great for wildlife viewing; however, it is not conducive to carrying a lot of camera gear and binoculars, so I was anxious to be able to photograph some of the beautiful wildlife. We rode over a wooden bridge made of logs and I was able to get some excellent photos of cape buffalo feeding out in the Delta. At one point we took a break in the shade of a huge ancient Baobab tree. Tsabo said the tree was over a thousand years old. There was an old bleached out buffalo skull under the tree and it was interesting observing it.
I took a picture of Gretchen holding it and with the heavy horns she had a hard time holding it up. Tsabo said he knew where there were the remains of an old bull elephant that died in the last drought, and he took us up to the site. There were bones scattered about and a set of large tusks that were bleached from the sun. We looked at the remains and made pictures with the tusks. Tsabo showed us the skull and pointed out the spongy looking bone mass in the skull and he told is that only the elephant skull was like this and the reason is the skull would be too heavy otherwise for him to hold his head up. We found that interesting. After about noon we headed back to camp to have the afternoon siesta.
We spent part of this time out on the deck by the plunge pool in the shade overlooking the Delta and watched elephants and hippos. At four we had our afternoon tea then we went out for another afternoon ride. In the afternoon ride we rode the same horses as from the previous afternoon. This time we had more riders.
A family from England were riding with us and a young French girl. We had a nice easy paced ride, and we were able to ride right up on some hyenas that were lying in the tall grass.
They eventually got up from there resting place and slumbered across the grassy delta. We rode by and observed the herds of zebra, wildebeest, buffalo and elephants and on the way back to camp we saw one of the best sunsets I saw on our whole trip and I was able to get some excellent photos.
This was the last ride for this part of the trip. We had another relaxing evening at camp, filled with laughter and fellowship among fellow travelers, and I savored the time around the fire. There is a rare kind of contentment that settles in after a long day of adventure — a bourbon or scotch in hand, the earthy, nutty fragrance of a fine cigar weaving through the night air, and the easy conversation of companions who now feel like old friends. These are the moments I hold closest: simple, unhurried, and deeply true.
If you find yourself longing for a chapter of your own beneath the African stars, know that there are still places where the wild and the refined meet.
A horseback safari through the Okavango Delta leaves an imprint on the soul that time cannot erase. African Horseback Safaris offers the chance to live that dream — to ride with the wind, to sit by the fire, and to find, in the heart of Africa, a memory wildly refined and forever yours. F&W
250 Years of Rigby
A Legacy Forged in Walnut and Steel
By Doug Pelton
In an age when companies measure legacy in five-year plans and product cycles, John Rigby & Co. stands apart, shouldering a 250-year tradition that reads like the backstory to adventure itself. From the wind-swept Highlands of Scotland to the sunbaked kopjes of East Africa, Rigby rifles have carried the trust of explorers, soldiers, kings, and sportsmen. But Rigby isn’t just a name etched into steel. It’s a cultural touchstone. It’s a thread that runs through the great narrative of African hunting and British sporting life.
From Dublin to the World
John Rigby, the man behind the name, was born in 1758 in Dublin and founded the business founded in 1775. His brilliance in both engineering and marksmanship made him a natural leader in the trade. By the mid-19th century, John Rigby & Co. had earned a reputation for rifles of extraordinary accuracy and durability, serving sporting gentlemen with excellence.
Rigby became Superintendent of the Royal Small Arms Factory at Enfield Lock in 1887. His primary function was transitioning military rifles from single shot to bolt action repeating rifles. But it was the firm’s partnership with Mauser that would seal its legend. The boltaction Mauser 98, modified and perfected by Rigby, became the gold standard for dangerous game rifles, culminating in the launch of the magnum action in 1900 and the iconic .416 Rigby in 1911. It was a cartridge that helped make legends and is still widely in use today.
The Rifle That Roared
John Rigby, the legendary gun maker whose name became synonymous with precision and tradition in British sporting arms.
The .416 Rigby is more than a caliber—it’s a statement. Fast, flat-shooting, and devastating in the hands of a steady hunter, it was the rifle of choice for those who faced Africa’s heaviest game. Robert Ruark’s famed professional hunter, Harry Selby, carried a .416 Rigby in the pages of Horn of the Hunter. It was that rifle which made readers dream of buffalo thickets and lion spoor, and Rigby became, in that instant, more than a brand. It became a passport to the safari of the soul.
There was no pretense in a Rigby. The lines were elegant but purposeful. The checkering was sharp. The bluing deep. They were rifles to be used—not coddled. And in the hands of men like Selby, Denys Finch-Hatton, Jim Corbett, or Major G.H. Anderson, Rigby rifles became tools of exploration and instruments of survival.
Decline and Renaissance
Like many great British firms, Rigby fell into uncertainty in the late 20th century. The rise of synthetics, CNC machining, and mass-market manufacturers pulled the sporting world in a new direction. For a time, the company lost its footing.
But in 2013, Rigby found its way home. Now under the stewardship of L&O Holding and master craftsmen like Marc Newton, the company re-established its London workshop and reignited its purpose. The revival wasn’t just a brand exercise—it was a return to form. A declaration that tradition and innovation could walk hand in hand.
In the years since, Rigby has introduced the Highland Stalker, an elegant tribute to the stalking rifles of old. The recent Shikari boxlock double and refined its iconic Big Game and Rising Bite double rifles with the same hand-fitting, oil-finished artistry that made the company great in the first place.
Africa Still Calls
Today, John Rigby & Co. stands not as a relic but as a leader in bespoke gunmaking. Their rifles are once again in the hands of PHs in Zimbabwe, stalkers in Scotland, and collectors who appreciate tools with soul. The company’s partnership with conservation organizations and its commitment to ethical hunting have helped place it squarely at the crossroads of tradition and relevance.
This year, to celebrate its 250th anniversary, Rigby is releasing a series of commemorative rifles, crafted not just as heirlooms, but as working rifles—designed to be carried in the dust and sweat of safari country. Each rifle tells a story, just as each scratch and dent will one day speak of its owner’s own adventures.
Legacy That Lasts
What makes a brand endure for 250 years? It’s not just quality, though Rigby has that in spades. It’s purpose. It’s the understanding that craftsmanship matters. That a rifle isn’t just a product—it’s a partner. A memory machine. A thing that links generations.
In an era obsessed with speed, Rigby stands for permanence. In a world of plastic and polymer, Rigby still shapes walnut and blued steel. And while others race to the future, Rigby reminds us that some things, like a perfectly balanced rifle or a shot at an old dagga boy, should never be rushed.
So here’s to 250 years of adventure. To rifles that have crossed continents and changed the course of lives. And to the men and women who carry them still. Because when the bush gets thick, and the tracks run deep, you’ll want a Rigby in your hands and a legacy of quality on your side. www.johnrigbyandco.com F&W
Jim Corbett pictured with a leopard. His iconic Rigby .275 bolt-action rifle is now on display at the Rigby showroom in London.
Beaufort Water Festival
Beaufort, South Carolina
July 11-20th,2025
Celebrate 10 days of Lowcountry charm at the 69th Annual Beaufort Water Festival in Beaufort, SC. Enjoy waterfront concerts, arts & crafts, sporting events, and family-friendly activities. Highlights include the Grand Parade, Air Show, and nightly entertainment at Henry C. Chambers Waterfront Park. Don’t miss the Commodore’s Ball and the Blessing of the Fleet. www.bftwaterfestival.com
Pigs & Peaches BBQ Festival
Kennesaw, Georgia
August 15-16 , 20205
Join the smoky, sweet celebration at Kennesaw’s Pigs & Peaches BBQ Festival, featuring KCBS-sanctioned competitions, live music across three stages, a Kid Zone, and a dazzling fireworks finale. With over 200 vendors and free admission, it’s a must-visit for BBQ lovers and families alike. www.kennesaw-ga.gov/pigsandpeaches
Rum Fest Key West
Key West, Florida
August 11-17, 2025/ Grand Tasting on the 16!
Raise a glass to island life at this week long celebration of Caribbean culture, craft spirits, and coastal charm. Highlights include premium rum tastings, sunset sails, live music, and a Grand Tasting event featuring over 30 global rum vendors. Proceeds benefit MARC Inc., Supporting adults with developmental disabilities in the Keys. www.festkeywest.com
wwww.stb-rockart.co.za
stephen@stb-rockart.co.za
WINGSHOOT AFRICA WITH BING CROSBY
The crooner, the campfire, and the call of the bush.
By Edgar Castillo
In 1959, the Mount Kenya Safari Club was established to perpetuate the safari mystique to the Hollywood crowd and other notables of the day. Various types of men, including A-list actors found themselves drawn to adventure in Africa. With its diverse wildlife and vast wilderness, it attracted many Tinseltown headliners who sought hunting crusades. One of those film and music artists was crooner, Bing Crosby. Bing had found himself in roles that drew him to The Dark Continent in his career, therefore catching glimpses of the wildness the land offered. Known to be a lifelong outdoor enthusiast, especially an avid wingshooter, Bing found himself in pursuit of gamebirds across the African plains throughout the 1960s and early 70s.
Bing traveled far and wide in his pursuit of wild fowl. He frequently engaged in bird hunting activities across the globe as a way to balance the intensity of his professional and personal challenges. He shot a variety of gamebird species in his travels to England, Scotland, Mexico, Spain, Canada, and of course across the United States. But it was Africa that lulled him to the bush. There, he went on safaris and shot exotic birds for the pot, camped in white canvas tents, and sat around the campfire in the evening listening to the sounds of wild animals.
THE GAME BIRDS
During Bing’s hunting trips to Africa, it’s a safe bet he grew increasingly distracted by the abundance and diversity of gamebirds that flushed from the grass and crossed the Land Rover’s path. The fabled “big five” took a back seat to the wingshooting opportunities that lured him into the African uplands and Serengeti savannahs. The iconic entertainer saw that the continent held a medley of upland and waterfowl species to hunt, and he wanted to partake in its wild revelry.
Sandgrouse
Closer to a pigeon than a grouse, sandgrouse are known to keep their schedule with the precision of a Swiss watch. Often flying vast distances to drink, they offered many enjoyable hunts for Bing and friends who hid in nearby blinds around the water’s edge. Sandgrouse are tough to hit on the wing. Their erratic flight brought challenging shoots over watering holes.
Guineafowl
Few African birds are as recognizable and common as the loud squawking and comical-looking guinea fowl. Their somewhat unusual appearance belies a crafty mind – think equal parts wild turkey and rooster pheasant, featuring the best and most challenging attributes of each. Bing pursued them by either walk-up or driven hunting where native beaters walked the lines, pushing birds towards awaiting shooters. Feeling pressured, flocks of guinea fowl would flush in a cacophony of flapping wings. Bing said this of guinea fowl, “They’re deceptively fast fliers, and tough to anchor.”
Other Fowl
The Greywing partridge, francolin, spurfowl, and buttonquail also inhabited the region. The four tended to flush in groups or coveys and would have likely been encountered during Bing’s African trips. We do know through diaries, letters, and eyewitness accounts, that confirms a variety of species and subspecies were indeed hunted. One of Bing’s friends shared this, “we shot a bounty of gamebirds across a varied landscape”, giving evidence to such possibilities.
Doves & Pigeons
There are also vague references to Bing shooting doves at a pond. Africa is home to fifteen species of doves and pigeons, and they are prolific – making it plausible that the American star participated in ol’ fashioned dove shoots over potholes of water.
Waterfowl
Not to be outdone, Africa was blessed with a diversity of duck and geese species. Including the world’s largest goose, the Spur-winged goose. Bing and friends hunted ducks over small, water impoundments.
Hunting with a Voice Actor
If you’re Bing Crosby, you needed someone with the same energy and passion for wingshooting to accompany you to Africa. A person who enjoyed wearing khaki and could have a good time anywhere. Phil Harris was Bing’s number two. Phil was an American actor, bandleader, entertainer, and singer. However, he was most notably known for his voice acting in Disney animated movies, where he voiced Baloo in The Jungle Book, Thomas O’Malley in The Aristocats, and several other characters. The two stars were inseparable as they traveled all over the world to hunt birds. In Africa, Bing and Phil shot sandgrouse, guineafowl, and waterfowl. Bing said this of his lifelong best friend, “Harris was an excellent wingshot.”
“I eat better, sleep better, and generally feel more relaxed when I’m here.”
AMERICAN SPORTSMAN
The American Sportsman was an American television series that aired from 1965 to 1986. It presented filmed highlights involving the program’s hosts and celebrities participating in hunting and various outdoor activities around the world. Bing, already known for his skill with a gun and sportsmanship, brought his friend, Phil.
Over the course of the show, the duo found themselves being filmed in Africa for two episodes, hunting “francolin, guineafowl, and crème-de-le-crème, sandgrouse”, according to Bing. In the first African installment that aired, the two known for impromptu musical collages during their bird hunts, began singing upon returning to camp. Their back-and-forth melody started as they cased their shotguns, supposedly 28-gauge Browning Superposed over-under’s. The routine carried over as they cooked guinea fowl, made biscuits, and kept the tune going around an evening campfire as they smoked cigars.
PH: “Yes, I’m gonna make some cornmeal bread.”
BC: “Hey, out in Tanzania on an African safari.”
PH: “That’s where I’ll be cooking some of that cornmeal bread.”
BC: “Well, let’s find some grouse.”
PH: “And some guinea fowl.”
BC: “Looks like everything’s in it but the kitchen towel.”
PH: “Those African birds are so plump and fat.”
BC: “Come to Tanzania on an African safari.”
Cameramen report:
“Both Mr. Crosby and Mr. Harris shot scores of birds.”
AFRICAN DIARIES & LETTERS
1967
August 4 – Bing stays overnight in New York City prior to flying to Africa, where he, Phil, and fellow actor Clint Walker, and Texas Governor John Connally film an American Sportsman program about sandgrouse in the Northern Highlands of Tanzania.
August 7th – Bing writes to his wife, Kathryn.
“As a consequence of the 5,000-foot elevation here in Nairobi, it feels cooler than the actual fifty degree temperature. Tomorrow, we fly to Arusha in Tanzania, and then drive to our safari camp. The camera men are planning to film Phil Harris, cooking grouse and making cornbread. He swears that he’s finally going to hit the big time by replacing Julia Child.”
August 12 – Bing sends a second letter with an update to Kathryn.
“Shades of Ernest Hemingway. We are camping at the foot of Mount Kilimanjaro, rising at 5 AM and driving for two hours in Land Rovers over roads that compare unfavorably with our La Paz to Las Cruces freeway. Upon arrival, we sit in blinds and try to pick off sand grouse as they fly into the water holes. The fun comes when, like children at recess, we abandon the cameras to snipe away at guinea fowl and francolin”
“For my part, if the situation doesn’t improve, I’ll have to ask Walker’s friend to bag a few grouse for me. There has been so much rain that the birds aren’t concentrating at the water holes, and the producer is worried sick…”
1968
July 29 – Bing along with his wife, and two other couples go on a two-week safari in Tanzania. It is led by Terry Matthews of Matthew Safaris. - Diary
“We had great duck shoots together, the camp food was excellent, there were always plenty of game birds to eat as well as animals cooked in many delightful manners…”
1971
March 10 – Bing leaves London airport for Africa for a photographic safari. He writes to Kathryn.
“…It was too dark for pictures…I settled for pursuing the vulturine guinea fowl, who were strong flyers, but preferred to lead me a wild chase. They ran me ragged, leaving me too exhausted even to attempt a shot.”
1972
August 4 – Bing, along with daughter, Mary Frances, who was on her first safari, and several friends arrive in Nairobi. It is his seventh trip to Africa. He shares that he is in bed by nine and up about seven every day. He writes in his diary…
“I am to do a little bird shooting, perhaps shoot something for the pot but I’m not interested in doing the ‘big five’ or anything like that.”
August 11 – Bing sends a postcard to Andrew Montague, the author of Shotgun Shooting, about his daughter’s shooting skill.
“Dear Monty - Your pupil is doing quite well. 15 sand grouse 1st day. She thinks she should do better! We are on the Tana River near Garissa, and the shooting is really fabulous. Quite the best I’ve had. Best to Peter.”
HE LOVED AFRICA
Bing Crosby was a cultural icon. During his time, various types of Hollywood men found themselves drawn to adventure in Africa, and the romanticized image of a wild frontier the continent evoked. This often stemmed from playing make-believe roles as rugged, venturesome characters in films. However, for most, it was only an act.
A passing thought. Bing was the exception, as he sought it, pursued it, and lived it.His deep respects for the culture and environment played significant roles in his enthusiasm to wingshoot the vast and untamed African countryside. In his diary Bing shared that he never felt better since discovering Africa and when he is on safari,
“I eat better, sleep better, and generally feel more relaxed when I’m here.”
Bing shouldered his guns on eland, Cape buffalo, and
other plains game, but it was his deep affair with bird hunting that he always managed to engage in when visiting.
No other country sought his repeated attention when it came to wingshooting, like Africa. F&W
“They’re deceptively fast fliers, and tough to anchor.”
-Bing Crosby on Guinea fowl
THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO BOOTS
By Doug Pelton
There’s an old Southern proverb—probably made up, but we’ll run with it—that says you can judge a man by the boots he travels in. If that’s true, then safari might be the ultimate confessional.Because while rifles, knives and cameras tend to get all the glory, it’s your boots that will carry you across every dusty mile, into every mopane thicket, and out of every bad decision you make after one too many sundowners.
Let me say this plainly: the right boots can make or break your safari. And I don’t mean that in a metaphorical, Hallmark kind of way. I mean blisters, black toenails, and the kind of swamp-foot funk that clears the tent.
So here it is, from one Southern gentleman to another—a field guide to safari footwear, born from red clay and veld dust.
Granddaddy’s Boots: Romantic, but Risky
Let’s start with the sentimental option. Maybe you’ve got a pair of old upland boots, broken-in and handsome as hell. You shot your first covey in them. Wore them to prom. Maybe even proposed in them. They’ve got that cracked leather, red dirt soul, and a bit of turkey blood in the laces.
I’ve seen men show up in Africa with Danners, Chippewas, Rockys, and custom-made Ropers. Boots that tell stories. Boots that deserve to be on safari.Here’s the problem: Africa doesn’t care about your nostalgia.
Those fine American boots are usually too heavy, too hot, or too stiff for bush duty. The soles are built for barns and briar fields, not the powder-dry sand and volcanic rock of the Luangwa or the Kalahari. One day of hard tracking and they’ll feel like bricks on your feet. Ask me how I know.
Still, I get it. If you insist on bringing granddaddy’s boots, treat them like a tribute—wear them for photos, maybe around camp, and pack something purpose-built for the hard days. Hell, I did! Light weight Brownings.
The Courteney Selous Boot: Safari’s Sweetheart
Now we’re talking. The Courteney Boot—especially the Selous model—is a legend in its own right. Handmade in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe, these boots have tracked everything from elephant to eland. They’ve been worn by PHs, princes, poachers, and purists.
What makes them so good? Start with the leather, soft but tough and many options. Add a crepe sole that grips sand like a bloodhound and walks like butter. Then there’s the classic high-top cut that protects your ankles from thorns, ticks, and that one jackal that always seems a little too bold after dark.
The Selous boot is built for stalking. It’s whisper-quiet and comfortable straight out of the box. I can honestly say that this is one boot that needed zero break in, they were comfortable put of the box. Not that I would recommend that. And unlike some modern tactical boots, it doesn’t scream “wannabe SEAL Team 6.” It whispers “I know what I’m doing.”
They’re not cheap, but neither is a buffalo hunt. If you can afford to cross the Atlantic and chase dangerous game, you can afford boots that won’t betray you on Day Two.
www.courteneyboot.com
Jim Green: The Blue-Collar Workhorse
Jim Green boots hail from South Africa and carry a different energy than Courteneys. If the Selous boot is your aristocratic uncle in tweed, Jim Greens are your cousin with dirty hands and a full freezer.
These boots are tough, straightforward, and built for people who actually live in the bush. Game scouts wear them. So do trackers, farmers, and PHs who’ve seen more than one safari client show up looking like they’re headed to Coachella.
The Razorback or African Ranger models are particularly good choices. They’re more affordable than Courteneys and just as durable, with a slightly gripper out sole that plays nice on rocks and loose dirt.
If you like function over flair, or if you’re trying to save a little cash for extra ammo and bourbon, Jim Greens are a smart play. Just make sure to give them a few good walks before the trip. They’ll mold to you like cornbread to a cast-iron skillet. jimgreenfootwear.com
Chuck Taylors: The Wildcard
Yes, I’ve seen it. More than once. Some wiry tracker or gloriously oddball PH will show up in a pair of blownout Converse high tops, looking like they wandered off the set of The Sandlot Goes to Zambia. I have even done it myself when my luggage was a couple days late and I traveled in Chucks. And the crazy thing? They work.
Canvas uppers. Thin rubber soles. Featherweight. You can feel the ground. Move quiet. Dry fast. They’re cheap and replaceable. And if you’re hunting something like kudu in dry country, they might just be the sneaky-best option in the pack. But be warned: they offer zero support. None.
If you roll your ankle in them, you may be the first man medevaced from safari for stepping on a mongoose hole in basketball shoes. Still, they have a strange kind of charm. It takes a certain confidence to hunt Africa in Chucks. Or maybe you just need to be a little crazy from the heat. Either way, they do work and I like them.
Crocs: The Camp Shoe We Pretend to Hate
Now we come to the controversial part of this sermon: the Croc.
Look, I don’t care how manly you are. I don’t care if you bench press warthogs and quote Hemingway in your sleep. When you’ve spent ten hours in the bush on your feet, soaked in sweat and caked in dust, sliding your swollen dogs into a pair of Crocs feels like stepping into heaven.
They’re light, easy to clean, and great around camp. Some folks wear them in the shower to avoid ticks or fungus. Some just wear them to fetch gin and tonics with minimal effort.
Should you wear them in the bush? Well, I don’t recommend it but I certainly know those who do. I will forego the thorns in my feet and hunt in my boots. But as a post-hunt luxury, they’ve earned their spot in the duffel. Just don’t wear camo ones. Have some dignity.
Crocs also make great gifts for trackers, skinners and camp staff and they are easy to pack.
Don’t Forget your Socks!
While we’re talking about boots, don’t overlook the unsung hero of the whole operation: your socks. A good pair of merino wool or synthetic blend socks can make the difference between happy feet and a daily descent into trench foot. I always carry an extra pair in the cruiser or stuffed in my day pack. Come noon, when the heat’s cooked through the leather and the sweat’s pooling in places no Southern gentleman likes to admit, swapping into a fresh pair is pure magic. Like a restart button for your feet. It’s a little ritual that keeps the blisters at bay and the morale high.
Final Thoughts from the Footlocker
Packing for safari isn’t just about function—for me, it’s about tradition. About showing up with respect for the ground you’re about to walk on.Don’t get too hung up on the brand names. You want comfort and the ability to stalk quietly.
Whether you lace up in kudu leather or Southport-bred nostalgia, just remember: the animals don’t care what boots you wear. But your feet do. So does your PH, who’s already wondering if you’ll make it through the week without limping.
And if all else fails? Take two pairs. One to hunt in. One to forgive your mistakes. Because nothing ruins a good story faster than a blister the size of a copperhead and a tent that smells like forgotten gym socks. Be Comfortable, be happy. F&W
Buffalo, Lions, and a Wildebeest Charge Who Gnu?
By Steve Ausband
This was my third trip to hunt in Africa, but it was the first for my nephew, Evan. After this trip, I am convinced that the only thing as good as seeing Africa and all its wildlife for the first time is seeing someone else having that experience. You can get it all over again vicariously by watching the expressions on your companion’s face.
I had taken buffalo and a variety of plains game on two previous trips, one to the Limpopo area of South Africa and the other to the Kazuma/Matetsi area in Zimbabwe. I wanted to hunt buffalo once again. There is no other hunting I’ve ever done that quite compares to stalking an old, scarred-up, ill-tempered Cape buffalo bull in the mopane and combretum brush in the African wilderness.
I also wanted my nephew to have the full African experience—the dust, the heat, the long stalks, the glorious sunsets, the game meat cooked on the braai,
and of course, the opportunity to see the continent’s iconic animals. And finally, I wanted to hear lions again—to sit by a fire nursing a drink, enjoying the smell of an impala loin roasting, and listening to that guttural “UNNNH-unh, UNNNH-unh” of the boss lion calling his crew together for the evening’s hunt. Our tickets were bought, our itinerary planned, and we were on our way in mid-April of 2024. I approached the Delta counter in Myrtle Beach with some trepidation, having read disturbing reports of the difficulties of flying with firearms. But the nice young lady simply asked if the rifle was unloaded, gave me a red tag to stick inside the locked case, and assured me that the Winchester Model 70 in .375 would meet me in Africa when I got there. Gotta love the South.
There are other places where I might have been subject to a body cavity search after I announced I was traveling with a gun. I had begun a correspondence with Ernest Dyason, who owns Spear Safaris, the previous year, and I had explained my wishes to him. Ernest had the perfect plan. We would fly into Johannesburg and spend the night at a nice lodge, then catch a plane the next day to the little town of Hoedspruit, near the border of Kruger Park. Ernest and another PH would meet us there, and we would spend the first several days in a tented camp in the Timbavati Private Nature Reserve.
The Timbavati covers 150,000 acres and shares an unfenced border with other large reserves such as Klaserie, Umbabat, Thornybush, and the five-million-acre Kruger. It is a magical place.
We had permits to hunt two old buffalo cows without calves. It would be very similar to the hunting for bulls
I had done before, but the cost would be considerably less. Once the first shot is fired, the difference between being in thick brush and following a 1,200-pound animal versus an 1,800-pound animal becomes insignificant. It is impossible to be bored in either situation.
While in the area, we would see elephants, lions, hippos, rhinos, and multiple species of plains game. After the buffalo hunt, we would move to Ernest’s main camp in the extreme north of the Limpopo province, right next to the Zimbabwe border, to hunt other species. The tented camp in the Timbavati was as “old Africa” as anyone could want. We were next to a dry riverbed, where we saw tracks of lions and other animals every morning. Hippos in a nearby stream grunted and snorted noisily every night, and hyenas and at least one leopard walked through the camp after dark. The leopard seemed to act as if he owned the place. We were advised to bring our boots inside at night, or the hyenas would surely eat them.
The first day we drove for miles, seeing elephants, a pride of lions sleeping off their breakfast, and various kinds of antelope, along with a trio of old, very impressive buffalo bulls that had left their herd and become “dugga boys”—the term for the mud-covered, scarred-up warriors that no longer hung out with the breeding animals. I went to sleep that night listening to some very interesting night noises. There were lion tracks again in the riverbed the next morning. Day two meant more driving on sandy roads, looking for tracks, and this time we came across a big herd of at least 200 buffalo—bulls, cows, and calves—and we resolved to follow them. Despite making several long stalks through the thick brush, we couldn’t get into position before night fell, so we had to come back early the following morning. And this time, we were more fortunate.
Cape buffalo, as anyone who has hunted them will know, are very unlikely to drop at the first shot unless you get lucky and hit the spine or the brain. You can whack an average buffalo with your very best heart shot, and it will run into the thickest, nastiest piece
of mopane thicket available and turn around to wait on you to come continue the discussion. When you arrive, the meeting will not be on good terms.
On this occasion, things got even more interesting. I was peering into the thicket after a buffalo I had just heart-shot (“Is that a shoulder?” “Did I just see an ear twitch?”), When Vick, the other PH, called my attention to something behind me. Forty yards away stood a mature male lion that had been following the same herd.
We watched the lion, the lion watched us, the lion trotted off—looking indignant, I thought, probably because we had interrupted his hunt—and I went back to looking for my wounded buffalo in the thicket. I found it and made the shot before things got even more exciting. Evan had also succeeded in taking a cow, and (like mine) his had also required a follow-up and a couple of additional shots, even after taking 300 grains of Federal’s best “Safari Grade” soft point through the vitals. At least Evan didn’t have a lion as a competitor. How could you script anything finer than that?
On the fourth day of a scheduled 12-day hunt, we moved to the other camp near the Zimbabwe border. There were no tents this time; we stayed in a very comfortable lodge with air conditioning, good beds, and hot showers. Once outside the lodge, though, we were in “old Africa” again. The concession was 24,000 contiguous acres of beautiful, rough, hilly terrain, and we had access to a neighboring property the same size. This was mainly leopard and plains game country, and Evan was keen on getting a zebra and a wildebeest, among other things. Hunting here was difficult, as it should be. The days were hot, the stalks were long, and the animals were very adept at eluding us in the thick growth that had been made even thicker by recent rains. My nephew managed to kill a very nice impala, a zebra, a duiker, and a fine blue wildebeest in the next few days. I was unsuccessful at trying to harvest a great nyala bull that I had seen, but I did manage to get a wildebeest. Which brings us to the matter of the charging gnu.
We located the animal’s tracks and caught several glimpses of him one afternoon, but I couldn’t get into position for a shot until late in the day. When the opportunity came, the bull was 200 yards away, across a dry lake bed. I got on the sticks, held for the shoulder, and touched off what felt like a perfect shot. It was only semi-perfect. I’ve made shots that far on deer with my .270, but I wasn’t used to shooting a .375 at that range, and I forgot that I had sighted the rifle in at almost point-blank range for buffalo. So I hit him a little low, leaving a blood trail but failing to get an instant kill. We had a long follow-up until it got too dark to see. The next morning we bumped the bull twice, and Vick suggested he go ahead with just one tracker as quietly as possible. Then, when he found the animal, he would come back for me. “No,” I said, “If you see it, shoot it. This has gone on long enough. I don’t want it to suffer, and my pride isn’t going to be hurt.”
Evan and I waited, and after a while we heard a shot, followed by two more shots that were so quick I wondered how anyone could work a bolt-action rifle that fast. When Vick came back, he looked very excited. He explained that the bull had waited in heavy cover and charged as soon as it saw him. He threw one shot at the animal, then managed to hit it at least once more by shooting from the hip as it closed to within five yards. It slid by him almost at his feet. I found out later that wildebeest charges are not as unusual as I had thought. I heard from several hunters over the following months that they had also experienced charges, and I read that several years ago a man and his son had both been killed by a wildebeest in South Africa.
I left Africa feeling grateful for the opportunity to hunt there once again. I was grateful also to Ernest and to Vick, who took great care of my nephew and me over the twelve days we were there, and to the staff, including Cecila the cook, the trackers John and Ree (short for “refer” or “reefer,” I’m not sure which), Phineas the skinner, and all the other fine folks we met along the way. I also appreciated the help of Jennifer Ginn of Travel Express, who made all our travel arrangements, including flights, help with gun permits, lodging at Africa Sky Lodge, and troubleshooting when we had mechanical difficulties and delays in getting home. I recommend her highly. F&W
Flora & Fauna
A Field Study from Feathers & Whiskey
Gerenuk: A Field Guide to the Giraffe Gazelle
Known for its graceful, long neck and upright feeding stance, the gerenuk is one of East Africa’s most unique antelope species. Found in Ethiopia, Kenya, Somalia, and Tanzania, this browser thrives in dry, thorny bushlands and arid savannas where few other antelopes can.
Physical Traits
Males reach 35 or 42 inches at the shoulder and weigh up to 115 lbs, with backward curving lyre shaped horns. Their reddish brown coats and slender builds make them instantly recognizable. Gerenuks often stand on their hind legs to reach leaves an adaptation that sets them apart from all other antelope.
Their browsing habits reduce competition with grazing antelope, and their ability to extract moisture from plants means they rarely need to drink water.
Behavior
Typically solitary or in small groups, gerenuks are alert and elusive, feeding mainly on acacia leaves and fruit. Predators include lions, leopards, and wild dogs.
Hunting Notes
Legal in Tanzania (21 day license) and Ethiopia (more flexible via outfitters), the gerenuk is a challenging spot and stalk or ambush hunt. Trophy males are prized for their unique form and horn structure.
Conservation
Not endangered, but threatened by habitat loss and poaching. Regulated hunting helps fund conservation efforts and local communities. Feathers & Whiskey supports ethical, sustainable hunting that contributes to long term wildlife stewardship.
A Lion in the Distance
Story and Photo By Michael Maynor
Stinging sweat ran down the man’s face and into his eyes as he walked, gripping the big gun. He raised his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose, squeezing the corners of his eyes to soothe the pain, if only temporarily. It was midmorning, but his light green shirt was already darkened in patches.
Ahead of him, the native tracker moved carefully, searching for sign. With every methodical step, it became painfully clear—the shot had been no good. The client had rushed it, and now it was up to him, the hired Professional Hunter, to follow the buffalo and sort it out. He hadn’t wanted the client to come along.
The green grass stood thick and knee-high, and as he moved through it, he felt the last of the morning dew against his bare legs. He replayed the morning’s events in his mind. Across the plain, a grove of trees stood, and years of buffalo hunting told him that the old bull had gone in among them. It is often said that a wounded buffalo will lie in wait for the hunter, but more often than not, they are never seen again. Still, tracking a wounded buffalo is dangerous work—especially in the thick stuff.
The tracker moved behind the man with the gun, and together, as one body, they stepped into the shaded trees, scanning for the slightest movement. The big gun was ready.
A breeze brushed against the Professional Hunter’s face, and for a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to enjoy it. Then, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something. Turning his head, he saw the buffalo walking slowly—it was sick. He picked his mark and fired, the first barrel quickly followed by the second.
They moved cautiously toward where the buffalo lay, and as they approached, they heard the death bellow. It’s the dead ones that kill you, he thought, keeping the heavy gun, now reloaded and ready, at his shoulder. Sweat dripped from his nose onto the dry ground.
The tracker tossed a broken branch, striking the bull’s rump. No movement. The hunter lowered his rifle and stepped closer, pressing the two big barrels against the bull’s eye. No blink—it was done.
He stood for a moment, looking down at the buffalo before kneeling beside it. He spoke a few words to the tracker, who turned and started a slow run back toward the others, his footsteps fading like the end of a song.
The Professional Hunter ran his hand along one of the bull’s curved black horns—it was a fine head. Removing his wide-brimmed Stetson, he placed it on the ground beside him and leaned his gun against the buffalo’s massive body. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
It was silent now.
In moments, he would hear the hum of an automobile engine and the voices of the others. But for now, as he sat among the trees with the morning breeze cooling his skin, the only sound was the distant call of a lion F&W
