by Mike Arnold - Friday, July 12, 2024
Above: Zambeze Delta Safaris’ anti-poaching unit understands firsthand how its efforts are funded by hunters.
Professional hunter (PH) Bredger Thomason is a law enforcement officer in Texas during the rainy season months when hunting isn’t possible in Zambeze Delta Safaris’ concession, Coutada 11, in Mozambique. That might explain why we found ourselves airborne in his Land Cruiser on that day in Africa, just having slammed into the gaping mouth of a warthog burrow. Bredger’s day job also explained why he’d pushed the vehicle’s accelerator to the floor some 30 seconds earlier, beginning our wild journey across the deeply scarred landscape in pursuit of the poachers we’d surprised as we came around the island of mahogany trees. The poachers had been spotted by tracker Vasco from his elevated high-rack seat in the back as we continued our rollercoaster ride. One of the rapidly fleeing men carried a heavy-looking spear complete with a foot-long metal tip. As I grabbed onto the handholds in the cab, I hoped the spear carrier wouldn’t decide to fling his weapon at our rapidly approaching vehicle. It’d be just my luck that we were pursuing a Mozambique Olympic decathlon competitor.
Not only Bredger and Vasco, but every person working with outfitter Mark Haldane’s Zambeze Delta Safaris—from the men who wash the clothes to the trackers and camp managers, understands the crucial role of anti-poaching for the protection of habitats and wildlife. The men spotted by Vasco were destroyers, intent on short-term gain at the expense of not only nature but the local Sena population that relies on the hunter dollars attracted by the wealth of pristine ecosystems containing coveted game species. Without international hunters, the poachers would reign supreme again, as they had before Haldane and his partners in Coutada 11 began their work restoring nature and the indigenous human population 30 years ago.
Two things finally put an end to our chase. First, the poachers reached the tree line where even the flying Land Cruiser couldn’t penetrate. Second, Bredger realized that my wife, Frances, and Vasco were frantically trying to avoid ejection from the open back of his wildly bucking four-wheel-drive. That last point made my PH’s complexion turn even whiter than normal. But with a quick glance over his shoulder, he spotted Frances and Vasco’s legs still occupying their spaces on the elevated safari seat. With a sigh of relief, he brought the Land Cruiser to a stop.
Even before the truck shuddered to a halt, Vasco jumped over the side of the bed and took off in the direction of the last sighting of the poachers. I thought of volunteering to grab my rifle and follow him, but realized I would not only be in the way, but I probably would be a danger because of my lack of law-enforcement training. Returning a few minutes later, Vasco conferred with Bredger in the language known as Fanagalo. Bredger turned in our direction when the conversation ended stating, “We’re calling in the closest anti-poaching unit,” or APU, adding, “They should be here in 20 minutes. You okay to wait to continue the hunt?”
Frances and I were more than happy to pause our hunt, with the hope that the APU could corner the poachers. Two of the APU members arrived on their motorbikes before the rest of the team in another Land Cruiser. In the interim, Vasco and Bredger filled in the two members with the details of the poachers we’d spotted—their numbers and the direction of their escape. When the rest of the APU arrived, they immediately headed into the surrounding bush.
As the anti-poaching team disappeared on the poachers’ trail, Frances and I discussed the process that would be taking place in the pursuit. Our knowledge came from the year before when we accompanied an APU during a training session. With the goal of introducing newer members to their roles while on patrol, an experienced member of the anti-poaching staff went into the bush to set up a camp and place snares and traps in the manner of a multi-person poaching squad. Though knowing the general area where they would find their simulated poacher, the team started with no information on the camp’s specific location or the trails containing the snares and gin traps. All team members belonging to every Zambeze Delta Safaris APU are former poachers, making every training exercise realistic, and as difficult as if one were searching for an active poaching scene.
The first step taken by the APU pursuing the poaching team spotted by Vasco would be to enter GPS coordinates into their handheld data recorders. If, and when, they find a poachers’ camp, it records those GPS coordinates as well. Then the unit’s real work begins. Ever so slowly, they spread out looking for tracks—not those of game animals, but human footprints, mostly from bare feet but sometimes shod with sandals. Side trails occur often because the poachers search for game paths along which to place snares and traps. Today, the poachers knew of the pursuit, and would likely split up with the intention of making their way to camp, thus creating a series of trails, each of which needing inspection by the APU.
The goal of the APU is always to find a camp without the poachers detecting the unit. Once located, the unit members drop to the ground and begin their crawl to the edge of the bivouac. Using hand signals, they indicate to one another the number of poachers present and the location of those individuals. With their skill, and a bit of luck, rushing into the midst of the encampment ends with the capture of one or more of the bandits. Quickly handcuffing the prisoners, the APU collects all the equipment and any animals already killed. Turning to their data recorders once again, they enter the camp location, the number of poachers captured, the equipment confiscated and the number of animals killed per species.
Among the equipment always present in the poachers’ camps are wire snares, gin traps, bags and sticks for carrying out the poached animals, food and, as we’d seen in the hands of one of the fleeing poachers that morning, long heavy, metal-tipped spears for killing animals caught in snares and traps. Once collection of the equipment, food and animals is complete, the APU attempts to convince the poachers to reveal the locations of their snares and traps already placed. With their cooperation, the unit quickly can collect all the lethal materials in the vicinity. If the poachers are not cooperative, the unit will spread out again and carefully scour the surroundings for hidden traps and snares.
One of the most amazing and frightening aspects of the poachers’ repertoire is their ability to camouflage snares and traps. The complete invisibility of gin traps designed to capture even the largest animals such as zebra, eland and kudu is stunning. Though shown the spot where a trap of this type lay buried, it was undetectable to Frances’ and my eyes, until the massive jaws snapped shut on the stick shoved onto the hidden pressure plate by the APU member. At the end of the training session in which we were honored to participate, the APU team members posed for a photograph with collected snares and gin traps. Some are smiling, others are serious. The seriousness may have reflected the fact that less than a month earlier, a knife-wielding poacher seriously wounded a member of another APU.
We would learn that the APU pursuing the poachers we encountered did indeed locate their camp, taking possession of abandoned equipment including snares and traps, food and meat from animals poached. Unfortunately, the APU apprehended none of the poachers inside or outside the camp that day, but information later led to the discovery of the identities of some of the marauders.
Without the financial input from international hunters, Zambeze Delta Safaris’ Coutada 11 concession would return to the poached-out wasteland it was 30-plus years ago. As well, the local Sena community would again lack a dependable source of protein, a clinic, a school, an agricultural field for its crops and, like the middle class of any developed country, expendable income from employment with the safari company. Across the globe, hunters continue proving the maxim that our passion for wildlife and wild places leads to the enrichment of both natural habitats and indigenous communities.