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https://fieldethos.com/cajun-hippo-hunt/
By Caleb McClain
Giant Asian carp swimming in rivers, buck-toothed nutria rats in the bayous, 300-pound feral pigs tearing up fields—Louisiana is no stranger to invasives. And the resourceful residents of the Cajun State usually find a way to incorporate these animals into their cuisine—or at least use them as bait for their target species.
But did you know there was once a time when the bayous were planned to be filled with hippos?
It all started in 1884, when visitors to an agricultural convention were introduced to a flowering aquatic plant from the Amazon: the water hyacinth. The public fell in love with its ornate purple blooms, and thanks to fair organizers giving them away for free, the plants quickly spread throughout the state. It didn’t take long before these attractive invaders were choking out nearly every waterway. The state needed to find a solution—and fast.
His argument—based on neither science nor common sense—was that the supposedly docile hippos could be penned up in small enclosures of just a few acres. They’d eat the hyacinths, grow fat, and then be slaughtered for meat. The whole idea was marketed under the charmingly absurd label of “lake cow bacon.”
The plan, of course, was riddled with flaws. First and most obviously: hippos are anything but docile. Anyone who’s spent even a few days in Africa knows they’re among the most dangerous animals on the continent, killing roughly 500 people each year. There was no logical way to import them en masse from the Zambezi or Chobe rivers across the Atlantic, through the port of New Orleans, up the Mississippi, and into inland farms—especially when so many of the waterways were already clogged with the very hyacinths they were meant to eat.
Second, Broussard proposed containing four-ton hippos with three-strand barbed wire—something that can’t even hold an eland. Anyone with experience around livestock could tell you that more hippos would escape than be contained.
And finally, no one even knew whether hippos would actually eat the hyacinths, which are toxic to many animals.
In a country still recovering from the devastation of market hunting, Broussard and his allies proposed releasing at least 100 species of African and Asian game into any government land that could support them—everything from dik-diks and giraffes to rhinos, yaks, and bushbuck. Yes, if Broussard had had his way, we could be chasing cape buffalo with .470 Nitro Express doubles in Wyoming today.
Fortunately for our nation’s ecosystems—and maybe our personal safety—the House didn’t bite. Broussard was elected to the Senate in 1914, but the assassination of some archduke in a country no American had heard of, combined with a tangle of treaties, plunged most of the world into a not-so-great war. The European powers who controlled Africa had better things to do than sell us hippos.
Still, you have to wonder what things would be like if Broussard and Roosevelt had gotten their way. Would I be able to draw a black rhino tag on the Kaibab Strip? Would we be hunting the kudu rut each fall in Colorado? And how good would hippo étouffée be?
By Caleb McClain
Giant Asian carp swimming in rivers, buck-toothed nutria rats in the bayous, 300-pound feral pigs tearing up fields—Louisiana is no stranger to invasives. And the resourceful residents of the Cajun State usually find a way to incorporate these animals into their cuisine—or at least use them as bait for their target species.
But did you know there was once a time when the bayous were planned to be filled with hippos?
It all started in 1884, when visitors to an agricultural convention were introduced to a flowering aquatic plant from the Amazon: the water hyacinth. The public fell in love with its ornate purple blooms, and thanks to fair organizers giving them away for free, the plants quickly spread throughout the state. It didn’t take long before these attractive invaders were choking out nearly every waterway. The state needed to find a solution—and fast.
The Cajun Hippo Solution
At the same time, the nation was facing a growing meat shortage. Enter Representative Robert Broussard, who argued that the simplest way to solve both problems was by introducing hippos to the bayous. In 1910, he officially presented his plan to the House Committee on Agriculture. Thus, House Resolution 23261, better known as the “American Hippo Bill,” was born.His argument—based on neither science nor common sense—was that the supposedly docile hippos could be penned up in small enclosures of just a few acres. They’d eat the hyacinths, grow fat, and then be slaughtered for meat. The whole idea was marketed under the charmingly absurd label of “lake cow bacon.”
The plan, of course, was riddled with flaws. First and most obviously: hippos are anything but docile. Anyone who’s spent even a few days in Africa knows they’re among the most dangerous animals on the continent, killing roughly 500 people each year. There was no logical way to import them en masse from the Zambezi or Chobe rivers across the Atlantic, through the port of New Orleans, up the Mississippi, and into inland farms—especially when so many of the waterways were already clogged with the very hyacinths they were meant to eat.
Second, Broussard proposed containing four-ton hippos with three-strand barbed wire—something that can’t even hold an eland. Anyone with experience around livestock could tell you that more hippos would escape than be contained.
And finally, no one even knew whether hippos would actually eat the hyacinths, which are toxic to many animals.
Rough Rider Support
Despite these glaring issues, the idea gained surprising traction. Even Theodore Roosevelt voiced support—though I strongly suspect it was less about lake cow bacon and more about another part of the bill: a proposal to import dozens of game animals from his recent safari to populate public lands across the United States.In a country still recovering from the devastation of market hunting, Broussard and his allies proposed releasing at least 100 species of African and Asian game into any government land that could support them—everything from dik-diks and giraffes to rhinos, yaks, and bushbuck. Yes, if Broussard had had his way, we could be chasing cape buffalo with .470 Nitro Express doubles in Wyoming today.
Fortunately for our nation’s ecosystems—and maybe our personal safety—the House didn’t bite. Broussard was elected to the Senate in 1914, but the assassination of some archduke in a country no American had heard of, combined with a tangle of treaties, plunged most of the world into a not-so-great war. The European powers who controlled Africa had better things to do than sell us hippos.
Still, you have to wonder what things would be like if Broussard and Roosevelt had gotten their way. Would I be able to draw a black rhino tag on the Kaibab Strip? Would we be hunting the kudu rut each fall in Colorado? And how good would hippo étouffée be?
