morioc
AH fanatic
A Turbulent Lion Hunt in Central African Republic (CAR)
This story has been translated from French to English by Google translate. The original French version can be found below.
Safari is my fifth season and my hunter, Hamp W., an American citizen, arrives at Sangha on our hunting territory in late morning by chartered plane. The camp being only 12 kilometers from the airfield, he was soon installed in his boukarou. We know and he confirms the essential aim of his safari: to approach and shoot a lion, despite difficulties in walking (he box after a knee operation). We have 18 days of hunting ahead.
His visit was planned in the northern zone (zone hunting Bahr Aouk-Ouandja-Vakaga) where the density of lions is strong. Events and insecurity in the region require us to drive on the middle area (area of hunting Idongo-Ba-Bangoran) rich in buffalo, eland Derby, bongos, but where the population of lions seemed quite low. But we are confident because during the season I found several indications of presence and a few days before the arrival of Hampton, a beautiful lion was met by another guide and hunter. The challenge is interesting, the morale high and the hunt particularly fascinates me.
The hunting methods are conventional: Meet at the lookout on baits, tracking and appeal, the Central African trackers are very strong in the latter technique (they amplify the sounds using a " metal horn ").
After lunch and siesta rigor, we will check the setting of his rifle on target and make a turn in the plain on the banks of the river Bangoran, just to get into "the atmosphere of the bush", to familiar with the landscape and vegetation, approaching the first animals (Hamp draws a nice warthog), but already the birds, the sounds of the bush subside, dusk is not far, it's time make the first call (guttural sounds, while shades that simulate the roar of a lion hunt going on) but the king of animals not to go that day.
The following days, Hamp will take an old solitary buffalo, a buffalo and a superb antelope Roanne. I note that my hunter shoots well, it is fast and precise and the entire team to trust him. This is important but it should also control his emotions at the time of contact with his first lion. We speak quietly. Experience proves that without it the animal is often injured. But the research of lions is unsuccessful, the carriages on the carcasses of buffalo and warthog, tracking a fresh track, calls do nothing ... But the 4th night we wake up trackers "Patron lions are there ... "they roar in the night is impressive. The hope is reborn. The next morning the trackers found the carcass of a freshly killed river hogs, but the look and appeal of my tracker Démé are still unsuccessful, the cats will not come. The doubt begins to settle.
Only a few days later we will see our first lion, a female and her young on the vast plain of Ndiri, then two beautiful lionesses approached to 35 yards on a bait. They feel and we disappear silently into the straw. A tracking from traces detected on a track we can, an hour later, straws, falling sharply on a female and her calf. The charge of intimidation of the mother makes us recoil with great care, his heart beating wildly. And then the rain starts by tornadoes in the game. The rotting bait, animal hide, not even the hyenas roam over and we find more clues. It seems that the bush will be cleared. These are the vagaries of the hunt. But we must keep hope.
The fourteenth day, early in the morning, we are on the plain Ndiri. A flight of dozens of vultures and turn our attention. We decide to make the approach. The rifles are loaded. Demetrius is next to Hampton with the shot stick, Hassan, and his unique look is at my side. We move slowly, scanning the bushes and straw, ears alert. But already the vultures are raised and agitated on a fresh carcass. This is a hyena killed in late night by lions near a pond. The animal was emptied of its viscera. The traces show a large female and a male (his record is 17 cm long). The emotion was high because they are probably not very far. Have they been disturbed in their feast? Will they come back later?
After discussion, we decide not to follow the footsteps but to lure the goat alive that we carry and mount a summary edge about 50 meters. We withdraw and silently, 16 hours 30, we're back in the carriage, all hopeful and very concentrated. An hour passed and suddenly I see the goat motionless, looking tense and nervous in the opposite direction on the lookout. In a cloud of dust, no noise, in a twinkling the lioness jumped on the goat killing him instantly, lagging in some straw yards away and quietly, without bothering us, begins to table. What a sight! But already, the day decreases and the lion is still not out, yet we know it is there, not far ... The female was eclipsed. I asked Demetrius to the call for a last chance before nightfall. And suddenly he was there, I hear drinking. I get up for a better view. He laps, lying on the ground, shoulders emerged, fawn in the last rays of daylight. The head, huge rises, eyes toward the lookout. Hamp shoulder but can not aim properly because the straw hamper. We leave the lookout, the lion got up and moved a few feet joined by the female. The male stops "through full, majestic, huge, he seems to stare. Hamp pulls arm franc, the lion jumped huge folding in half and roaring, he disappears into the straw, the female followed. It touched the ball but is it good? Hamp said he suffered the extraordinary tension that creeps in when the hunter shot his first lion? Immediately we find the blood but the straws are very tight and now it's already dark, tracking is too dangerous.
The heart still packed we return to camp with the bitterness of unfinished business. After the story Matthew hunting, the director of the camp, managed to convince us to return at night with a headlamp, because a wounded animal is very dangerous cons but if it dies in the night, the hyenas may devour. Our nocturnal expedition, by giving courage, will remain fruitless and the rest of the night, lying on the cot, sleep is restless, jostling thousand questions in my head and one recurring: Is well received and Will we return?
The next morning, very early, with Matt and the team we return to the firing point and we easily follow the trail of blood from the large male to where he slept during the night and where the female has joined. The lion is hurt and that the traces of his left front leg that drags the ground shows that it is broken, but gradually drops of blood are spaced and eventually disappear. Our research task looks difficult: a hunt for two long days had just begun! The trackers do an outstanding job and we follow the couple to a bako (dense gallery forest) where they took refuge. We split up for the bako by side and I hardly clears my way to the center. It is 10 o'clock in the morning for several hours and we are progressing slowly but the trace is lost ...! However, we stress again and one of the trackers is found, the lions are out of bako thwarting our vigilance. We resume training tracking and after 2 miles they return in another bako. We know they are in and we approach slowly, peering at the slightest movement, listening to the slightest noise. Ten yards from the border they are there, growl, roar, but indistinguishable from the patient. I move to find an angle that would allow me to better see, there is nothing they sank into the vegetation, like shadows. We try several maneuvers around bako 1 kilometers which is 500 long by 300 meters wide, without success. I try to resume the trail with my tracker, but leaves the mask and make too much noise.
I know that while we are there they remain hidden in the impenetrable bako, the patient can not go far on his paw hurts, he stopped often and fever forced him to stay near water The female guide and support without question. I think I must get back in to redo this bako contact anyway because he can not eat and soon the female will abandon him, he was sentenced. We returned to camp late afternoon exhausted and disappointed and no one speaks. When the rain begins to fall, a great despair seized the whole team. Everyone thinks "it's over." After dinner quieter than usual Hamp said, "what do we do tomorrow, we have no chance." I said "we'll see tomorrow." These two words "no chance" struck me so hard I thought all night, trying to find the mental resources to understanding the behavior of the wounded animal while keeping my focus and my lucidity. The night was very short, 2 hours of sleep only because the nerves are alive.
Hamp I wake up early and said simply: "here we go, we'll find your lion. We reach the edge of bako and walk several hours on the ground still wet from the rain fell yesterday, but devoid of any trace. I lead the hunt after my goal, checking every bush and trying to cross the tracks. Suddenly Hassan farm walk name "Boss, the lion! This is the trace of the female. From that moment my firm intuition that we will get the wounded. We follow the track of the lioness, she joins the male, it's him! He stops at a pond formed by rain, he was drunk and was lying in the shade, then flew off towards the great bako. The tracks are now easy to follow, they enter a big bush that I'm around. He is here before me and starts to fifteen meters and disappears again and I can not shoot. He returned in bako, and I'm losing track. Hamp with trackers walk on the edge. 40 minutes to follow and I do not see anything, leaves, vines, trunks, dead wood limit my field of vision that does not exceed 5 to 6 meters. Exhausted I turned around when, by chance, I picked it disappears again as a real ghost.
At that time "I know" he did not attack me but I also understand that only in bako my mission is doomed to failure. We decide to go for help. Matthew and his team, Francis, give us a hand. Matthew with his two trackers following the trail, accompanied by Hamp Démé located along the French bako and the opposite side. I go in bako with Hassan to join Matthew. Progress is slow and difficult, I am often crouching or crawling, visibility near zero but a firm belief inside me. Matthew is calling me, he heard a slight noise, our communion is complete. That is our ghost, I'll never let go. I establish a first contact to 6 yards but the shot of my 458 Lott is stopped by a bush. I resume my progress, the second contact is identical to the first, I feel his movement and I even closer. Three hours now that we live in this bako. Cramps bother me, the mellipones revolve around my head and invade my eyes at every stop, I sweat profusely. He still parade. At the third contact my ball is still blocked by vegetation, but the fate of the lion roaring in bako no one can reach it and plunges into the straw. But the animal is tired, perhaps resigned, and quickly stops after 200 meters. I guess his silhouette in the vegetation on my rifle shot he falls, rolls but plunged back into the straw with a roar. I try to work around not left thinking he would do against other fighters but he expects me straight in the eyes, I'm not sure some of my shooting and 15 meters around the sights of my gun is in his yellow eyes staring at me one last time. The great lion fell and never recovered. Bamara akwe awe boss. A long hunt full of suspense and excitement was over. It has strengthened the bonds of our team.
Hamp and Démé arrive all smiles. Crouching Lion near his hand on his head Hamp exclaims "oh my God, it is beautiful (3 meters to 200 kilograms), he warmly thanked the entire team in a religious silence.
On the way back we met three herds of buffalo in plain Ndiri they remain motionless, as if to greet once more the master of the plain.
This story has been translated from French to English by Google translate. The original French version can be found below.
Safari is my fifth season and my hunter, Hamp W., an American citizen, arrives at Sangha on our hunting territory in late morning by chartered plane. The camp being only 12 kilometers from the airfield, he was soon installed in his boukarou. We know and he confirms the essential aim of his safari: to approach and shoot a lion, despite difficulties in walking (he box after a knee operation). We have 18 days of hunting ahead.
His visit was planned in the northern zone (zone hunting Bahr Aouk-Ouandja-Vakaga) where the density of lions is strong. Events and insecurity in the region require us to drive on the middle area (area of hunting Idongo-Ba-Bangoran) rich in buffalo, eland Derby, bongos, but where the population of lions seemed quite low. But we are confident because during the season I found several indications of presence and a few days before the arrival of Hampton, a beautiful lion was met by another guide and hunter. The challenge is interesting, the morale high and the hunt particularly fascinates me.
The hunting methods are conventional: Meet at the lookout on baits, tracking and appeal, the Central African trackers are very strong in the latter technique (they amplify the sounds using a " metal horn ").
After lunch and siesta rigor, we will check the setting of his rifle on target and make a turn in the plain on the banks of the river Bangoran, just to get into "the atmosphere of the bush", to familiar with the landscape and vegetation, approaching the first animals (Hamp draws a nice warthog), but already the birds, the sounds of the bush subside, dusk is not far, it's time make the first call (guttural sounds, while shades that simulate the roar of a lion hunt going on) but the king of animals not to go that day.
The following days, Hamp will take an old solitary buffalo, a buffalo and a superb antelope Roanne. I note that my hunter shoots well, it is fast and precise and the entire team to trust him. This is important but it should also control his emotions at the time of contact with his first lion. We speak quietly. Experience proves that without it the animal is often injured. But the research of lions is unsuccessful, the carriages on the carcasses of buffalo and warthog, tracking a fresh track, calls do nothing ... But the 4th night we wake up trackers "Patron lions are there ... "they roar in the night is impressive. The hope is reborn. The next morning the trackers found the carcass of a freshly killed river hogs, but the look and appeal of my tracker Démé are still unsuccessful, the cats will not come. The doubt begins to settle.
Only a few days later we will see our first lion, a female and her young on the vast plain of Ndiri, then two beautiful lionesses approached to 35 yards on a bait. They feel and we disappear silently into the straw. A tracking from traces detected on a track we can, an hour later, straws, falling sharply on a female and her calf. The charge of intimidation of the mother makes us recoil with great care, his heart beating wildly. And then the rain starts by tornadoes in the game. The rotting bait, animal hide, not even the hyenas roam over and we find more clues. It seems that the bush will be cleared. These are the vagaries of the hunt. But we must keep hope.
The fourteenth day, early in the morning, we are on the plain Ndiri. A flight of dozens of vultures and turn our attention. We decide to make the approach. The rifles are loaded. Demetrius is next to Hampton with the shot stick, Hassan, and his unique look is at my side. We move slowly, scanning the bushes and straw, ears alert. But already the vultures are raised and agitated on a fresh carcass. This is a hyena killed in late night by lions near a pond. The animal was emptied of its viscera. The traces show a large female and a male (his record is 17 cm long). The emotion was high because they are probably not very far. Have they been disturbed in their feast? Will they come back later?
After discussion, we decide not to follow the footsteps but to lure the goat alive that we carry and mount a summary edge about 50 meters. We withdraw and silently, 16 hours 30, we're back in the carriage, all hopeful and very concentrated. An hour passed and suddenly I see the goat motionless, looking tense and nervous in the opposite direction on the lookout. In a cloud of dust, no noise, in a twinkling the lioness jumped on the goat killing him instantly, lagging in some straw yards away and quietly, without bothering us, begins to table. What a sight! But already, the day decreases and the lion is still not out, yet we know it is there, not far ... The female was eclipsed. I asked Demetrius to the call for a last chance before nightfall. And suddenly he was there, I hear drinking. I get up for a better view. He laps, lying on the ground, shoulders emerged, fawn in the last rays of daylight. The head, huge rises, eyes toward the lookout. Hamp shoulder but can not aim properly because the straw hamper. We leave the lookout, the lion got up and moved a few feet joined by the female. The male stops "through full, majestic, huge, he seems to stare. Hamp pulls arm franc, the lion jumped huge folding in half and roaring, he disappears into the straw, the female followed. It touched the ball but is it good? Hamp said he suffered the extraordinary tension that creeps in when the hunter shot his first lion? Immediately we find the blood but the straws are very tight and now it's already dark, tracking is too dangerous.
The heart still packed we return to camp with the bitterness of unfinished business. After the story Matthew hunting, the director of the camp, managed to convince us to return at night with a headlamp, because a wounded animal is very dangerous cons but if it dies in the night, the hyenas may devour. Our nocturnal expedition, by giving courage, will remain fruitless and the rest of the night, lying on the cot, sleep is restless, jostling thousand questions in my head and one recurring: Is well received and Will we return?
The next morning, very early, with Matt and the team we return to the firing point and we easily follow the trail of blood from the large male to where he slept during the night and where the female has joined. The lion is hurt and that the traces of his left front leg that drags the ground shows that it is broken, but gradually drops of blood are spaced and eventually disappear. Our research task looks difficult: a hunt for two long days had just begun! The trackers do an outstanding job and we follow the couple to a bako (dense gallery forest) where they took refuge. We split up for the bako by side and I hardly clears my way to the center. It is 10 o'clock in the morning for several hours and we are progressing slowly but the trace is lost ...! However, we stress again and one of the trackers is found, the lions are out of bako thwarting our vigilance. We resume training tracking and after 2 miles they return in another bako. We know they are in and we approach slowly, peering at the slightest movement, listening to the slightest noise. Ten yards from the border they are there, growl, roar, but indistinguishable from the patient. I move to find an angle that would allow me to better see, there is nothing they sank into the vegetation, like shadows. We try several maneuvers around bako 1 kilometers which is 500 long by 300 meters wide, without success. I try to resume the trail with my tracker, but leaves the mask and make too much noise.
I know that while we are there they remain hidden in the impenetrable bako, the patient can not go far on his paw hurts, he stopped often and fever forced him to stay near water The female guide and support without question. I think I must get back in to redo this bako contact anyway because he can not eat and soon the female will abandon him, he was sentenced. We returned to camp late afternoon exhausted and disappointed and no one speaks. When the rain begins to fall, a great despair seized the whole team. Everyone thinks "it's over." After dinner quieter than usual Hamp said, "what do we do tomorrow, we have no chance." I said "we'll see tomorrow." These two words "no chance" struck me so hard I thought all night, trying to find the mental resources to understanding the behavior of the wounded animal while keeping my focus and my lucidity. The night was very short, 2 hours of sleep only because the nerves are alive.
Hamp I wake up early and said simply: "here we go, we'll find your lion. We reach the edge of bako and walk several hours on the ground still wet from the rain fell yesterday, but devoid of any trace. I lead the hunt after my goal, checking every bush and trying to cross the tracks. Suddenly Hassan farm walk name "Boss, the lion! This is the trace of the female. From that moment my firm intuition that we will get the wounded. We follow the track of the lioness, she joins the male, it's him! He stops at a pond formed by rain, he was drunk and was lying in the shade, then flew off towards the great bako. The tracks are now easy to follow, they enter a big bush that I'm around. He is here before me and starts to fifteen meters and disappears again and I can not shoot. He returned in bako, and I'm losing track. Hamp with trackers walk on the edge. 40 minutes to follow and I do not see anything, leaves, vines, trunks, dead wood limit my field of vision that does not exceed 5 to 6 meters. Exhausted I turned around when, by chance, I picked it disappears again as a real ghost.
At that time "I know" he did not attack me but I also understand that only in bako my mission is doomed to failure. We decide to go for help. Matthew and his team, Francis, give us a hand. Matthew with his two trackers following the trail, accompanied by Hamp Démé located along the French bako and the opposite side. I go in bako with Hassan to join Matthew. Progress is slow and difficult, I am often crouching or crawling, visibility near zero but a firm belief inside me. Matthew is calling me, he heard a slight noise, our communion is complete. That is our ghost, I'll never let go. I establish a first contact to 6 yards but the shot of my 458 Lott is stopped by a bush. I resume my progress, the second contact is identical to the first, I feel his movement and I even closer. Three hours now that we live in this bako. Cramps bother me, the mellipones revolve around my head and invade my eyes at every stop, I sweat profusely. He still parade. At the third contact my ball is still blocked by vegetation, but the fate of the lion roaring in bako no one can reach it and plunges into the straw. But the animal is tired, perhaps resigned, and quickly stops after 200 meters. I guess his silhouette in the vegetation on my rifle shot he falls, rolls but plunged back into the straw with a roar. I try to work around not left thinking he would do against other fighters but he expects me straight in the eyes, I'm not sure some of my shooting and 15 meters around the sights of my gun is in his yellow eyes staring at me one last time. The great lion fell and never recovered. Bamara akwe awe boss. A long hunt full of suspense and excitement was over. It has strengthened the bonds of our team.
Hamp and Démé arrive all smiles. Crouching Lion near his hand on his head Hamp exclaims "oh my God, it is beautiful (3 meters to 200 kilograms), he warmly thanked the entire team in a religious silence.
On the way back we met three herds of buffalo in plain Ndiri they remain motionless, as if to greet once more the master of the plain.
Original French Version.
Une Chasse au Lion Mouvemetée en République Centrafricaine (RCA)
C'est mon cinquième safari de la saison et mon chasseur, un américain Hamp W., arrive à Sangba sur notre territoire de chasse en fin de matinée par l'avion charter. Le camp n'étant qu'à 12 kilomètres de la piste d'aviation, il est vite installé dans son boukarou. Nous faisons connaissance et il me confirme l'objectif essentiel de son safari: approcher et tirer un lion, malgré des difficultés pour marcher (il boîte après une opération du genou). Nous avons 18 jours de chasse devant nous.
Son séjour était prévu dans la zone nord (zone cynégétique de Bahr Aouk-Ouandja-Vakaga) où la densité des lions est forte. Les évènements et l'insécurité de la région nous imposent de chasser sur la zone du centre (zone cynégétique d'Idongo-Ba-Bangoran) riche en buffles, élands de Derby, bongos, mais où la population des lions semblait assez faible. Mais nous sommes confiants car durant la saison j'ai relevé plusieurs indices de présence et quelques jours avant l'arrivée de Hamp, un beau lion a été rencontré par un autre guide et son chasseur. Le challenge est donc intéressant, le moral au beau fixe et cette chasse me fascine particulièrement.
Les méthodes de chasse sont classiques : à la rencontre, à l'affût sur des appâts, au pistage et à l'appel, les pisteurs centrafricains étant très forts dans cette dernière technique (ils amplifient les sons à l'aide d'une "corne métallique").
Après le déjeuner et la sieste de rigueur, nous allons vérifier le réglage de sa carabine sur cible et faire un tour dans la plaine sur les bords de la rivière Bangoran, histoire de se mettre dans "l'ambiance de la brousse", de se familiariser avec les paysages et la végétation, d'approcher les premiers animaux (Hamp tire un beau phacochère), mais déjà le chant des oiseaux, les bruits de la brousse s'atténuent, le crépuscule n'est pas loin, il est temps de faire le premier appel (des sons gutturaux, tout en nuances qui simulent le rugissement du lion partant en chasse) mais, le roi des animaux n'est pas au rendez-vous ce jour-là.
Les jours suivants, Hamp va tirer un vieux buffle solitaire, un bubale et une superbe antilope roanne. Je constate que mon chasseur tire bien, il est rapide et précis et toute l'équipe à confiance en lui. Ceci est important mais il devra aussi contrôler ses émotions au moment du contact avec son premier lion. Nous en parlons calmement. L'expérience me prouve que sans cela l'animal n'est souvent que blessé. Mais la recherche des lions reste sans succès, les affûts sur les carcasses du buffle et du phacochère, le pistage d'une trace fraîche, les appels ne donnent rien… Pourtant, la 4ème nuit les pisteurs nous réveillent "Patron les lions sont là…", leur rugissement dans la nuit est impressionnant. L'espoir renaît. Le lendemain matin, les pisteurs retrouvent la carcasse d'un potamochère fraîchement tué, mais l'affût et les appels de mon pisteur Démé sont encore sans succès, les félins ne viendront pas. Le doute recommence à s'installer.
Ce n'est que quelques jours plus tard que nous allons voir nos premiers lions, une femelle et son jeune sur la grande plaine de Ndiri, puis deux superbes lionnes, approchées à 35 mètres, sur un appât. Elles nous sentent et disparaissent silencieusement dans les pailles. Un pistage à partir de traces repérées sur une piste nous permet, une heure plus tard, dans des pailles, de tomber brusquement sur une femelle et son petit. La charge d'intimidation de la mère nous fait reculer avec beaucoup de précautions, le cœur battant la chamade. Et puis, la pluie par tornades se met de la partie. Les appâts pourrissent, les animaux se cachent, même les hyènes ne rodent plus et nous ne trouvons plus d'indices. Il semble que la brousse se soit vidée. Ce sont les aléas de la chasse. Il faut pourtant garder espoir.
Le quatorzièmes jour, tôt le matin, nous sommes sur la plaine de Ndiri. Un vol de plusieurs dizaines de vautours tourne et attire notre attention. Nous décidons d'effectuer l'approche. Les carabines sont chargées. Démé est au côté de Hamp avec la canne de tir, Hassan, et son coup d'œil exceptionnel, est à mes côtés. Nous nous déplaçons lentement, scrutant les pailles et les buissons, l'oreille aux aguets. Mais, déjà, les vautours se sont posés et s'agitent sur une carcasse toute fraîche. Il s'agit d'une hyène tuée en fin de nuit par les lions, près d'une mare. L'animal a été vidé de ses viscères. Les traces indiquent une femelle et un gros mâle (sa trace mesure 17 cm de long). L'émotion est forte car ils ne sont sans doute pas très loin. Ont-ils été dérangés dans leur festin ? Reviendront-ils plus tard?
Après discussion, nous décidons de ne pas suivre les traces mais de mettre en appât la chèvre vivante que nous transportons et de monter un affût sommaire à environ 50 mètres. Nous nous retirons silencieusement et, à 16 heures 30, nous sommes de retour dans l'affût, tous plein d'espoir et très concentrés. Une heure passe et soudainement je vois la chèvre immobile, tendue et nerveuse regardant dans la direction opposée à l’affût. Dans un nuage de poussière, sans aucun bruit, en un clin d’œil la lionne saute sur la chèvre la tuant sur le coup, la traîne dans les pailles quelques mètres plus loin et tranquillement, sans s'occuper de nous, se met à table. Quel spectacle ! Mais déjà, le jour décroît et le lion n'est toujours pas sorti, pourtant, nous savons qu'il est là, pas loin... La femelle s'est éclipsée. Je demande à Démé de faire l'appel, pour une dernière chance avant la tombée de la nuit. Et, soudain, il est là, je l'entends boire. Je me lève pour mieux observer. Il lape, allongé sur le sol, les épaules ressorties, fauve dans les derniers rayons du jour. La tête, énorme, se relève, les yeux en direction de l'affût. Hamp épaule mais ne peut viser correctement car les pailles le gênent. Nous sortons de l'affût, le lion s'est relevé et se déplace de quelques mètres rejoints par la femelle. Le mâle s'arrête en "plein travers", majestueux, énorme, il semble nous regarder fixement. Hamp tire à bras franc, le lion fait un bond énorme en se pliant en deux et en rugissant, il disparaît dans la paille, la femelle a suivi. Il est touché mais la balle est-elle bonne ? Hamp a-t-il subi l'extraordinaire tension qui s'insinue dans le chasseur au moment du tir de son premier fauve ? Immédiatement nous trouvons le sang mais les pailles sont très serrées et maintenant il fait déjà sombre, le pistage est trop dangereux.
Le cœur encore emballé nous devons rentrer au camp avec l'amertume du travail inachevé. Après le récit de la chasse Matthieu, le directeur du campement, réussit à nous convaincre d'y retourner en pleine nuit avec un projecteur, car un animal blessé est très dangereux mais par contre s'il meurt dans la nuit, les hyènes risquent de le dévorer. Notre expédition nocturne, en se donnant du courage, va rester infructueuse et le reste de la nuit, allongé sur le lit de camp, le sommeil est agité, mille questions se bousculent dans ma tête et l'une revient sans cesse: est-il bien touché et va-t-on le retrouver?
Le lendemain matin, très tôt, avec Matthieu et toute l'équipe nous revenons au point de tir et nous suivons facilement la piste de sang du grand mâle jusqu'à l'endroit où il s'est couché pendant la nuit et où la femelle l'a rejoint. Le lion n'est que blessé et la trace de sa patte avant gauche qui traîne au sol, montre qu'elle est cassée, mais progressivement les gouttes de sang s'espacent et finissent par disparaître. Notre tâche de recherche s'annonce difficile: une traque de deux longues journées venait de commencer! Les pisteurs font un travail remarquable et nous suivons le couple jusqu'à un bako (forêt galerie très dense) où ils se sont réfugiés. Nous nous séparons pour remonter le bako par les côtés et difficilement je fraie mon chemin au centre. Il est 10 heures du matin et depuis plusieurs heures nous progressons lentement mais la trace est perdue...! Pourtant, nous insistons encore et l'un des pisteurs la retrouve, les lions sont sortis du bako en déjouant notre vigilance. Nous reprenons la formation de pistage et au bout de 2 kilomètres environ ils rentrent dans un autre bako. Nous savons qu'ils sont dedans et nous approchons lentement, scrutant le moindre mouvement, écoutant le moindre bruit. A dix mètres de la lisère ils sont là, grognent, rugissent mais impossible de distinguer le blessé. Je me déplace pour trouver un angle qui me permettrait de mieux voir, rien n'y fait ils se sont enfoncés dans la végétation, comme des ombres. Nous essayons plusieurs manoeuvres autour du bako qui fait 1 kilomètre 500 de long sur 300 mètres de large, sans succès. Je tente de reprendre les traces avec mon pisteur mais les feuilles mortes les masquent et font beaucoup trop de bruit.
Je sais que tant que nous serons là ils resteront tapis dans ce bako impénétrable, le blessé ne peut pas aller loin, sa patte le fait souffrir, il s'est arrêté très souvent et la fièvre l'oblige à rester près de l'eau, la femelle le guide et le soutient sans doute. Je pense qu'il faut que je rentre dans ce bako pour refaire le contact car de toute façon il ne peut plus s'alimenter et bientôt la femelle va l'abandonner, il est condamné. Nous rentrons au camp en fin d'après-midi épuisés et déçus et personne ne parle. Quand la pluie se met à tomber, un grand désespoir s'empare de toute l'équipe. Tout le monde pense "c'est fini". Après le dîner plus calme que d'habitude Hamp me dit: "que fait-on demain, nous n'avons plus aucune chance". J'ai répondu "on verra demain". Ces deux mots "aucune chance" m'ont interpelé tellement fort que j'ai réfléchi toute la nuit, essayant de trouver les ressources mentales pour comprendre le comportement de l'animal blessé tout en gardant ma concentration et ma lucidité. La nuit a été très courte, 2 heures de sommeil seulement car les nerfs sont à vifs.
Je réveille Hamp de bonne heure et lui dit simplement: "allons-y, on va le trouver ton lion". Nous rejoignons le bord du bako et marchons plusieurs heures sur la terre encore humide de la pluie tombée la veille, mais vierge de toute trace. Je mène la traque suivant mon but, vérifiant chaque buisson et tentant de recouper les traces. Brusquement Hassan qui ferme la marche m'appelle "Patron, le lion"! C'est la trace de la femelle. A partir de ce moment là j'ai la ferme intuition que nous allons retrouver le blessé. Nous suivons la trace de la lionne, elle rejoint celle du mâle, c'est bien lui ! Il s'arrête sur une mare formée par la pluie, il a bu et s'est couché à l'ombre, puis il est reparti en direction du grand bako. Les traces sont maintenant faciles à suivre, elles pénètrent dans un gros buisson dont je fais le tour. Il est là et démarre devant moi à une quinzaine de mètres et disparaît de nouveau sans que je puisse tirer. Il est rentré dans le bako, je le suis et perd la trace. Hamp avec les pisteurs marchent sur la lisière. 40 minutes à le suivre et je ne vois plus rien, le feuillage, les lianes, les troncs, le bois mort limitent mon champ de vision qui ne dépasse pas 5 à 6 mètres. Epuisé je fais demi tour quand, par hasard, je le relève mais il disparaît de nouveau comme un véritable fantôme.
A ce moment là "je sais" qu'il ne m'attaquera pas mais je comprends aussi que seul dans le bako ma mission est vouée à l'échec. Nous décidons d'aller chercher de l'aide. Matthieu et son équipe, François, nous donnerons main forte. Matthieu avec ses deux pisteurs suivent la trace, Hamp accompagné de Démé se place le long du bako et François du côté opposé. Je rentre dans le bako avec Hassan pour rejoindre Matthieu. La progression est lente et difficile, je suis souvent accroupi ou à quatre pattes, la visibilité presque nulle mais une intime conviction m'habite. C'est Matthieu qui m'appelle, il a entendu un léger bruit, notre communion est totale. C'est bien notre fantôme, je ne vais plus le lâcher. J'établis un premier contact à 6 mètres environ mais le coup de ma 458 Lott est stoppé par un arbuste. Je reprends ma progression, le deuxième contact est identique au premier, je sens ses mouvements et je me rapproche encore. Trois heures déjà que nous évoluons dans ce bako. Les crampes me gênent, les mellipones tournent autour de ma tête et envahissent mes yeux à chaque arrêt, je transpire à grosses gouttes. Il s'est encore défilé. Au troisième contact ma balle est encore bloquée par la végétation mais le lion sort du bako en rugissant sans que personne ne puisse l'atteindre et s'enfonce dans les pailles. Mais l'animal est fatigué, peut-être résigné, et s'arrête rapidement au bout de 200 mètres. Je devine sa silhouette dans la végétation, sur mon coup de carabine il tombe, roule mais s'enfonce à nouveau dans les pailles en rugissant. J'essaie de le contourner pas la gauche pensant qu'il ferait face aux autres chasseurs mais il m'attend les yeux dans les yeux, je fais quelques pas pour assurer mon tir et à 15 mètres environ la mire de mon arme est entre ses yeux jaunes qui me fixent une dernière fois. Le grand lion tombe et ne se relèvera plus. Bamara akwe awe patron. Une longue traque pleine de suspens et d'émotions venait de s'achever. Elle a resserré les liens de notre équipe.
Hamp et Démé arrivent tout sourire. Accroupi près de son lion, la main sur sa tête Hamp s'exclame "oh my God", qu'il est beau (3 mètres pour 200 kilogrammes), il remercie chaleureusement toute l'équipe dans un silence religieux.
Sur le chemin du retour nous rencontrons trois troupeaux de buffles dans la plaine de Ndiri, ils resteront sans bouger, comme pour saluer une dernière fois le Maître de la plaine.
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