The most dangerous animal in Africa doesn't have huge canines, a mouthful of sharp teeth, poison fangs, flesh tearing claws or terrible talons. It doesn't stalk its prey, lurk in the shadows or come out of a cave in the dark of the night. No, the most dangerous animal in Africa eats grass and chews its cud. The Cape Buffalo is an ungulate and a bovine. But is unlike any cow with which you may be familiar. As a member of the coveted "Big Five" among big game hunters, some trophy hunters will pay upwards of ten thousand dollars for the opportunity to hunt one.
A large bull in the prime of his life may tip the scale at more than two thousand pounds and they are avoided by man and beast alike. Big males have been known to kill lions and most prides give solitary bulls, or "dagga boys" as they are known in South Africa a wide berth unless game is very scarce. Cape Buffalo are notorious among hunters for the danger they pose when wounded, as a wounded will animal will lay in wait to ambush a hunter and have even been known to stalk their attacker in return.
When guides and trackers are advising people on safari, the first thing they tell you is, "Don't run. Everything in Africa is faster than you." If you suddenly encounter an animal in Africa, whether its predator or prey, you are instructed to stand firm and hold your ground. If you turn and run, you will trigger the predator prey response in an animal. After all, dinner runs. If you run, therefore, ipso facto, you must be dinner! Chances are, the animal in question that you just bumped into in the bush is just as startled as you. The first thing the animal wants to ascertain is if you pose a threat. Not even a lion or a bull elephant wants to take a chance with the unfamiliar if they don't have to. On the African plains, even among the large and the ferocious, discretion is definitely the better part of valour. Most animals will make fierce displays to frighten off intruders into their space, up to and including a "mock" charge. Sometimes this mock charge will bring the animal within a few yards of you. But its a bluff. And if you stand your ground there is every chance the animal will fold their cards and back away.
Except for the Cape Buffalo. When a Cape Buffalo charges you, you are advised to get out of town, turn tail, run, scatter to the four corners of the wind, get out of its way! Because a Cape Buffalo doesn't mock charge. When a Cape Buffalo charges you, he is trying to kill you. You almost have to appreciate that kind of purity of approach. And even before a big bull Cape Buffalo ever charges you, he will have terrified you with a look of such menace and belligerence, that it will leave you quite literally shaking in your boots. Its not even fair to call it a look because this is an animal that glares at you. You don't even want to get too close in a Land Cruise, because, well, they're so unpredictable that you just don't want to provoke them into charging a truck. This look can be summed up quite nicely by a quote that is often attributed to Ernest Hemingway, but in fact came from one of his proteges, novelist Robert Ruark, "They look at you like you owe them money".
For a photographer, Cape Buffalo pose a few challenges. The big herds like lush grass, and river sides and swamps. You will smell a herd of buffalo long before you will see it, and there will huge clouds of vicious, annoying, biting flies in attendance. Because of the flies, buffalo love to wallow and will coat themselves in mud for a little insect relief. In all likely hood the herd of buffalo you do see will consist mostly of cows, calves and young bulls. The big trophy bulls that will remind you of an Ernest Hemingway short story will be nowhere to be seen. That's because when a big bull reaches a certain vintage, he will have wandered off to the bar to drink with "Papa" Hemingway.
The older bulls of a certain vintage have reached the stage in life where they've grown tired of the herd, all the cows and the calves and the noise and the moving around, so they simply wander off on their own. Occasionally these old bulls will form loose bachelor groups, but often they are solitary. They are curmudgeons, irascible, short tempered and easily offended, cranky and irritable. They have been known to charge trees, stumps, and even parked vehicles. Just about their only pleasure in life comes from finding a good wallow and soaking in the mud. As a result, when they wander about, they look as if they're caked in plaster or cement. In many cases, large patches of their fur has come off with the mud, so they have large bald patches. But despite their ragged ass appearance, every other animal in the African bush, gives the old bulls a wide berth. Not even the lions want to mess around with them. Too many bad things can happen to a predator if they tangle with an old bull. So the old bulls wander around, doing what they want and going where they please. In South Africa, one of the terms for cement is dagga -- coming from the Swahili term for mud -- and the men who work with cement are called "dagga boys". You can imagine how the men look after a day of working with cement, and the old bulls were known as "dagga boys".
To get a photograph of a dagga boy, you simply have to be in the right place at one time. About halfway though my first photo safari in South Africa, we were heading back to camp at dusk. The road, or dirt track, was narrow and winding through thick brush when all of a sudden our progress was halted by two large "dagga boys" standing in the middle of the road. They looked at us through hooded eyes, because the light was failing and although Cape Buffalo are noted for excellent senses of smell and hearing, their eyesight is so-so. These dagga boys weren't budging. I asked Lanz von Horsten, our South African photography guide, if we could go around them. "Oh no, Vince, that might just piss them off!" Lanz turned to our driver and African tracker, "Isn't that right, Robert! You don't want to piss off the dagga boys!" Robert laughed and nodded in agreement. At that moment, as if on cue, one of the old dagga boys grunted, arched his back and let loose with an epic stream of piss right in the middle of the road. It was as if he was listening to our conversation.
Having never heard the expression before, I asked Lanz what a dagga boy was. Lanz launched into a description and then part way through, stopped and started laughing. "Oh my God, Vince. YOU are a dagga boy! What do you say Robert?" Robert looked at me and after driving me through the bush for a week, he just smiled, "Oh, he is a dagga boy for sure." And at that moment, for the rest of my time in Africa, to Lanz and the local Africans, I simply became, Dagga Boy.
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