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There’s a buffalo bull out there somewhere in the thornveld, his horns worn smooth as river stones, his boss scarred from a thousand territorial disputes, his body language speaking volumes about survival and dominance. He’s past his prime for breeding, but he’s still the monarch of his domain – and he represents everything the hunting community should aspire to pursue.
If you hunted such a bull between January 2025 and November 2026, you have until midnight on 30 November 2026 to enter the third edition of the Rigby Dagga Boy Award. And if you’re sitting on the fence about submitting your entry, wondering whether your bull measures up, let me tell you why this award matters – and why your story deserves to be told.
Beyond the tape measure
We live in an age obsessed with inches. Every hunting camp has that guy who can quote minimums like scripture, who measures bases and spreads before he checks his shot placement. There’s nothing inherently wrong with record books – they’ve contributed enormously to conservation funding and hunter education. But somewhere along the way, we’ve allowed the tape measure to eclipse the experience, the number to overshadow the narrative.
The Rigby Dagga Boy Award flips that script entirely. The Rigby Dagga Boy Award was created to celebrate exactly this kind of buffalo. Rather than rewarding horn size alone, it recognises age, character and the quality of the hunt itself. It’s an award that asks hunters to think like biologists, to understand population dynamics, to recognize that the grizzled dagga boy standing knee-deep in a muddy wallow might be worth more to the herd dead than alive.
These old bulls – the ones with battle-worn bosses and blunted horn tips – have already passed their genetics to the next generation. Now they’re blocking breeding opportunities for younger, more fertile males. By selectively removing them, ethical hunters contribute to herd health while experiencing some of the most challenging and rewarding hunts Africa offers.
That’s conservation you can hang your hat on, regardless of what the tape says.
The point system that actually makes sense
For this third iteration, the judges have refined their evaluation criteria into a comprehensive point-based system that awards up to 21 total points across four categories. Six points maximum go to the age of the bull – those grey-muzzled patriarchs with worn bosses and blunt horn tips that signal decades of survival. Five points are awarded for the character of the bull, recognizing that not all old Dagga Boys are created equal; some carry themselves with a defiant majesty that transcends mere years.
Another five points assess the hunt itself – the difficulty, the fair chase ethics, the tracker’s skill and the hunter’s patience. And finally, five points reward the story, because every buffalo hunt worth its salt has a narrative arc that would make Hemingway envious.
This scoring system represents something revolutionary in hunting awards: a recognition that the full experience matters more than any single metric. It rewards hunters who can articulate why their bull was special, who understand the ecology they participated in, who respect the Professional Hunters and trackers who made it possible.
And here’s the kicker – if you don’t include side-on photos of the cleaned lower jaw showing first molar crown heights, plus front photos of the lower jaw incisor teeth, you’ll face an automatic two-point deduction. It’s because those teeth tell the story of the bull’s age more accurately than any guess based on boss development alone. The judges are serious about age verification, and they should be.
What makes your bull eligible
Let’s cut through the complexity: Your buffalo must be genuinely wild and free-ranging, taken from a self-sustaining herd using fair-chase methods. No ranch bulls, no captive-bred animals, no populations receiving nutritional supplementation beyond natural browse. If the concession drills water wells or builds dams, that’s acceptable – water development is standard range management. If they dispose of old salt from skinning sheds, fine – that offers no nutritional value anyway.
But if the buffalo have access to improved pastures, hay, protein supplements, or mineral licks designed to enhance body condition or growth rates, they’re out. This award celebrates wild buffalo in wild places, hunted the hard way.
There’s one more critical criterion that’s new to this edition: Properties without naturally occurring, free-living large predators are excluded. This requirement ensures that the buffalo you hunted exists within a complete ecosystem, where lions and leopards and hyenas play their ancient roles. It’s another way we ensure the award continues to celebrate authentic wilderness hunting and true conservation.
The judges want broken-horned bulls, the kind that still dominate water holes and wallow pits despite no longer contributing to the gene pool. If your bull matches that description and came from any of the six Syncerus species – Cape, Nile, East African Savannah, Central African Savannah, West African Savannah, or Dwarf Forest – you’re in the game.
The judges know their business
Your entry will be evaluated by a panel that reads like a who’s who of African dangerous game expertise. Dr. Kevin “Doctari” Robertson brings decades of wildlife management experience and scientific rigor. Professional Hunters Robin Hurt and Buzz Charlton have collectively spent more time on buffalo tracks than most of us have spent in the field, period. Ranger Richard Sowry adds crucial boots-on-the-ground perspective. And our managing director Marc Newton ensures the award stays true to the company’s 250-year legacy of supporting ethical hunting.
Our judges are men who’ve faced buffalo charges, who’ve tracked wounded bulls into jesse thickets, who understand the difference between a good bull and a great story. Their decisions are final, and frankly, that’s how it should be. This isn’t a popularity contest or a beauty pageant, think of it as a recognition of excellence in buffalo hunting. To understand what the judges are looking for, consider the remarkable bulls that won the first two editions of the Rigby Dagga Boy Award.
Franklin D. Cean’s “Bigfoot” – the first Dagga Boy Award winner
Franklin Cean’s inaugural win from Zimbabwe’s Zambezi Valley set the standard for what this award celebrates. His bull, nicknamed “Bigfoot” for his abnormally large right front hoof, was aged at well into his fourteenth year – approaching the natural lifespan limit for buffalo in predator-rich environments. The bull’s exceptional size came from an old leg injury that left his right front limb permanently broken and unusable, causing that hoof to grow enormous from never being worn down.
What made Bigfoot special wasn’t just his age. He carried a broken 12th rib that had detached from his spine and penetrated his abdominal cavity – evidence of brutal dominance fights from his prime breeding years. His face was white, hairless and scabby; his boss was large, knurly and rock-solid; his horn tips were completely blunt from decades of combat and vegetation. This was a bull that had not only survived to become a patriarch but had done so despite catastrophic injuries that would have killed lesser animals.
The hunt itself demonstrated the patience required for trophy selection. Working with Dr. Kevin Robertson and PH Buzz Charlton, Cean passed on multiple “shooter” bulls over three days, evaluating more than 30 different animals before committing to the shot. When they finally found Bigfoot limping through thick jesse bush, barely putting weight on his crippled leg, they knew they’d found something extraordinary. The bull died within seconds of being hit, having lived so long that he was nearing the end anyway.
Anton Weavind’s problem bull
The second award went to Anton Weavind for a completely different type of hunt in Mozambique’s Niassa Special Reserve – one that perfectly illustrated how selective buffalo hunting serves wildlife management and human safety simultaneously. This ancient bull had killed an elderly fisherman along the Lugenda River and was actively charging others, including pursuing one man far into the river in a dugout canoe. The animal had lost his fear of humans and was creating an untenable situation for the thousands of people living and working in the reserve.
When PH Derek Littleton and Weavind tracked the bull down, they found an extremely old animal with worn-down horns and his third molar almost completely gone – a clear sign he was at life’s end. The theory: having lost body condition and fighting ability, the bull had taken refuge near human settlements for protection from the reserve’s abundant lion population. An accidental encounter with a fisherman had escalated into repeated attacks.
This bull’s removal prevented further human deaths while simultaneously eliminating an animal that was no longer contributing to the herd. The meat was distributed to local communities and scout outposts. It wasn’t a romantic hunt through pristine wilderness – it was conservation work that happened to result in a magnificent trophy. That’s precisely the kind of ethical, conservation-minded hunting the Rigby Award was designed to recognize.
Both winners demonstrate that age, character, and conservation value matter far more than tape measurements. Their stories show the judges what they’re seeking: hunters who understand wildlife management, who exercise patience and selectivity, and who can articulate why their bull was worth taking beyond simple horn dimensions. If your Dagga Boy fits that description, your story deserves to be heard.
What you’ll win (and why it matters)
The winner receives a Rigby .416 Big Game rifle, while the Professional Hunter who guided the hunt gets a Rigby .450 PH rifle. The .416 Rigby represents the gold standard for African buffalo rifles. Introduced by Rigby in 1911, the .416 Rigby remains one of the world’s most respected dangerous game cartridges. Winning one is a change to join a lineage of hunters who’ve pursued dangerous game with intelligence, ethics, and respect.
Winners will be announced at the Dallas Safari Club Convention in January 2027, which provides the perfect platform to celebrate ethical hunting in front of the international hunting community.
You’ll need high-quality photos of you and your buffalo, shots that show ears and overall body condition. Don’t forget those mandatory jaw photos – get clear side-on images of the cleaned lower jaw showing molar crown heights, and front shots of the incisor teeth. Provide your Professional Hunter’s and outfitter’s contact information, and the location and date of the hunt.
Then write your story. Keep it between 800 and 1,000 words, but make every word count. Describe the track, the stalk, the shot. Explain why this bull was special, what made the hunt memorable, how it challenged you as a hunter. The judges want to understand not just what happened, but what it meant.
The bigger picture
Previous winners Franklin D. Cean and Anton Weavind set a remarkable standard, demonstrating what ethical buffalo hunting looks like when hunters prioritize age and conservation over trophy metrics. Their success stories have inspired the hunting community and contributed valuable data to buffalo research efforts.
Every old dagga boy has a story. By sharing yours, you’ll help celebrate a style of hunting that values age, patience, fair chase and conservation above measurements on a tape. So, dig out those photos. Review your hunt journal. Remember the weight of the rifle, the smell of the crushed mopane leaves, the moment when that old dagga boy finally stepped clear of the herd. Then tell that story the way it deserves to be told.
Submit your entry to daggaboy@johnrigbyandco.com by 30 November 2026.
If you hunted such a bull between January 2025 and November 2026, you have until midnight on 30 November 2026 to enter the third edition of the Rigby Dagga Boy Award. And if you’re sitting on the fence about submitting your entry, wondering whether your bull measures up, let me tell you why this award matters – and why your story deserves to be told.
Beyond the tape measure
We live in an age obsessed with inches. Every hunting camp has that guy who can quote minimums like scripture, who measures bases and spreads before he checks his shot placement. There’s nothing inherently wrong with record books – they’ve contributed enormously to conservation funding and hunter education. But somewhere along the way, we’ve allowed the tape measure to eclipse the experience, the number to overshadow the narrative.
The Rigby Dagga Boy Award flips that script entirely. The Rigby Dagga Boy Award was created to celebrate exactly this kind of buffalo. Rather than rewarding horn size alone, it recognises age, character and the quality of the hunt itself. It’s an award that asks hunters to think like biologists, to understand population dynamics, to recognize that the grizzled dagga boy standing knee-deep in a muddy wallow might be worth more to the herd dead than alive.
These old bulls – the ones with battle-worn bosses and blunted horn tips – have already passed their genetics to the next generation. Now they’re blocking breeding opportunities for younger, more fertile males. By selectively removing them, ethical hunters contribute to herd health while experiencing some of the most challenging and rewarding hunts Africa offers.
That’s conservation you can hang your hat on, regardless of what the tape says.
The point system that actually makes sense
For this third iteration, the judges have refined their evaluation criteria into a comprehensive point-based system that awards up to 21 total points across four categories. Six points maximum go to the age of the bull – those grey-muzzled patriarchs with worn bosses and blunt horn tips that signal decades of survival. Five points are awarded for the character of the bull, recognizing that not all old Dagga Boys are created equal; some carry themselves with a defiant majesty that transcends mere years.
Another five points assess the hunt itself – the difficulty, the fair chase ethics, the tracker’s skill and the hunter’s patience. And finally, five points reward the story, because every buffalo hunt worth its salt has a narrative arc that would make Hemingway envious.
This scoring system represents something revolutionary in hunting awards: a recognition that the full experience matters more than any single metric. It rewards hunters who can articulate why their bull was special, who understand the ecology they participated in, who respect the Professional Hunters and trackers who made it possible.
And here’s the kicker – if you don’t include side-on photos of the cleaned lower jaw showing first molar crown heights, plus front photos of the lower jaw incisor teeth, you’ll face an automatic two-point deduction. It’s because those teeth tell the story of the bull’s age more accurately than any guess based on boss development alone. The judges are serious about age verification, and they should be.
What makes your bull eligible
Let’s cut through the complexity: Your buffalo must be genuinely wild and free-ranging, taken from a self-sustaining herd using fair-chase methods. No ranch bulls, no captive-bred animals, no populations receiving nutritional supplementation beyond natural browse. If the concession drills water wells or builds dams, that’s acceptable – water development is standard range management. If they dispose of old salt from skinning sheds, fine – that offers no nutritional value anyway.
But if the buffalo have access to improved pastures, hay, protein supplements, or mineral licks designed to enhance body condition or growth rates, they’re out. This award celebrates wild buffalo in wild places, hunted the hard way.
There’s one more critical criterion that’s new to this edition: Properties without naturally occurring, free-living large predators are excluded. This requirement ensures that the buffalo you hunted exists within a complete ecosystem, where lions and leopards and hyenas play their ancient roles. It’s another way we ensure the award continues to celebrate authentic wilderness hunting and true conservation.
The judges want broken-horned bulls, the kind that still dominate water holes and wallow pits despite no longer contributing to the gene pool. If your bull matches that description and came from any of the six Syncerus species – Cape, Nile, East African Savannah, Central African Savannah, West African Savannah, or Dwarf Forest – you’re in the game.
The judges know their business
Your entry will be evaluated by a panel that reads like a who’s who of African dangerous game expertise. Dr. Kevin “Doctari” Robertson brings decades of wildlife management experience and scientific rigor. Professional Hunters Robin Hurt and Buzz Charlton have collectively spent more time on buffalo tracks than most of us have spent in the field, period. Ranger Richard Sowry adds crucial boots-on-the-ground perspective. And our managing director Marc Newton ensures the award stays true to the company’s 250-year legacy of supporting ethical hunting.
Our judges are men who’ve faced buffalo charges, who’ve tracked wounded bulls into jesse thickets, who understand the difference between a good bull and a great story. Their decisions are final, and frankly, that’s how it should be. This isn’t a popularity contest or a beauty pageant, think of it as a recognition of excellence in buffalo hunting. To understand what the judges are looking for, consider the remarkable bulls that won the first two editions of the Rigby Dagga Boy Award.
Franklin D. Cean’s “Bigfoot” – the first Dagga Boy Award winner
Franklin Cean’s inaugural win from Zimbabwe’s Zambezi Valley set the standard for what this award celebrates. His bull, nicknamed “Bigfoot” for his abnormally large right front hoof, was aged at well into his fourteenth year – approaching the natural lifespan limit for buffalo in predator-rich environments. The bull’s exceptional size came from an old leg injury that left his right front limb permanently broken and unusable, causing that hoof to grow enormous from never being worn down.
What made Bigfoot special wasn’t just his age. He carried a broken 12th rib that had detached from his spine and penetrated his abdominal cavity – evidence of brutal dominance fights from his prime breeding years. His face was white, hairless and scabby; his boss was large, knurly and rock-solid; his horn tips were completely blunt from decades of combat and vegetation. This was a bull that had not only survived to become a patriarch but had done so despite catastrophic injuries that would have killed lesser animals.
The hunt itself demonstrated the patience required for trophy selection. Working with Dr. Kevin Robertson and PH Buzz Charlton, Cean passed on multiple “shooter” bulls over three days, evaluating more than 30 different animals before committing to the shot. When they finally found Bigfoot limping through thick jesse bush, barely putting weight on his crippled leg, they knew they’d found something extraordinary. The bull died within seconds of being hit, having lived so long that he was nearing the end anyway.
Anton Weavind’s problem bull
The second award went to Anton Weavind for a completely different type of hunt in Mozambique’s Niassa Special Reserve – one that perfectly illustrated how selective buffalo hunting serves wildlife management and human safety simultaneously. This ancient bull had killed an elderly fisherman along the Lugenda River and was actively charging others, including pursuing one man far into the river in a dugout canoe. The animal had lost his fear of humans and was creating an untenable situation for the thousands of people living and working in the reserve.
When PH Derek Littleton and Weavind tracked the bull down, they found an extremely old animal with worn-down horns and his third molar almost completely gone – a clear sign he was at life’s end. The theory: having lost body condition and fighting ability, the bull had taken refuge near human settlements for protection from the reserve’s abundant lion population. An accidental encounter with a fisherman had escalated into repeated attacks.
This bull’s removal prevented further human deaths while simultaneously eliminating an animal that was no longer contributing to the herd. The meat was distributed to local communities and scout outposts. It wasn’t a romantic hunt through pristine wilderness – it was conservation work that happened to result in a magnificent trophy. That’s precisely the kind of ethical, conservation-minded hunting the Rigby Award was designed to recognize.
Both winners demonstrate that age, character, and conservation value matter far more than tape measurements. Their stories show the judges what they’re seeking: hunters who understand wildlife management, who exercise patience and selectivity, and who can articulate why their bull was worth taking beyond simple horn dimensions. If your Dagga Boy fits that description, your story deserves to be heard.
What you’ll win (and why it matters)
The winner receives a Rigby .416 Big Game rifle, while the Professional Hunter who guided the hunt gets a Rigby .450 PH rifle. The .416 Rigby represents the gold standard for African buffalo rifles. Introduced by Rigby in 1911, the .416 Rigby remains one of the world’s most respected dangerous game cartridges. Winning one is a change to join a lineage of hunters who’ve pursued dangerous game with intelligence, ethics, and respect.
Winners will be announced at the Dallas Safari Club Convention in January 2027, which provides the perfect platform to celebrate ethical hunting in front of the international hunting community.
You’ll need high-quality photos of you and your buffalo, shots that show ears and overall body condition. Don’t forget those mandatory jaw photos – get clear side-on images of the cleaned lower jaw showing molar crown heights, and front shots of the incisor teeth. Provide your Professional Hunter’s and outfitter’s contact information, and the location and date of the hunt.
Then write your story. Keep it between 800 and 1,000 words, but make every word count. Describe the track, the stalk, the shot. Explain why this bull was special, what made the hunt memorable, how it challenged you as a hunter. The judges want to understand not just what happened, but what it meant.
The bigger picture
Previous winners Franklin D. Cean and Anton Weavind set a remarkable standard, demonstrating what ethical buffalo hunting looks like when hunters prioritize age and conservation over trophy metrics. Their success stories have inspired the hunting community and contributed valuable data to buffalo research efforts.
Every old dagga boy has a story. By sharing yours, you’ll help celebrate a style of hunting that values age, patience, fair chase and conservation above measurements on a tape. So, dig out those photos. Review your hunt journal. Remember the weight of the rifle, the smell of the crushed mopane leaves, the moment when that old dagga boy finally stepped clear of the herd. Then tell that story the way it deserves to be told.
Submit your entry to daggaboy@johnrigbyandco.com by 30 November 2026.
