Mhudi

by Sol T Plaatje

  OK, let’s get back to the manipulation and the ‘set-up’ business which, intrinsically, is the cause of my inability to accept the authenticity of so much that I see under the banner of wildlife documentary. I have a particular problem with work that is presented as authentic real-time footage. A well-known documentary on the San Bushmen in the Kalahari is an example of questionable authenticity. The film – which is, incidentally, one out of a series I really enjoy – tries to capture a hunting scene where a kudu is supposedly killed by a poisoned arrow. To create a moment of high drama, the editing process includes a shot of the arrow being removed from the dead kudu. The problem is that, in reality, the arrow is being removed from what is clearly a high-velocity bullet wound channel. I’ve seen enough of these to know what they look like, but the average viewer is being presented with fact when it is pure fiction.

  Another example depicts a scene in Savuti, documenting the demise of lion cubs where the cubs are bitten and killed by a black mamba. Again, clever editing brings the drama to poignant life. Unfortunately, the snake filmed leaving the scene of the crime is a snouted cobra.

  Again, it’s clearly a set-up, resulting in a skilfully directed and edited re-creation of actual and library material being presented as real-time, real-life, factual footage.

  The worst case I’ve seen of poor continuity in a documentary is where a man is filmed going into thick reeds to track a leopard. The weapon he carries into this precarious situation is a lever-action rifle similar to those used in the old Wild West. When the leopard charges him, bursting through the reeds, the now back-pedalling man is clutching a bolt-action rifle. Now, I’ve heard of gun bearers who can slap a rifle into a hunter’s hand quite quickly, but I have yet to meet the man who is quicker than a charging leopard!

  I wish they’d just be open about it. Why not tell the audience that an attempt at a realistic recreation has been made as the authentic scene could not be documented for reasons of bad weather, time constraints, lapsed visas, insurrection or the star having a cold? The audience will understand. It’s the attempt to hoodwink us with a set-up we can’t understand.

  Another side of this scenario is their unrestrained use of close-up violence in the belief that this is a necessary endorsement of the realism and authenticity. The more cries of suffering, the louder the crunching of bone, the more blood and tearing of live tissue, the happier some documentary film-makers appear to be. These features, like the parallel usage of footage of human violence and misery, make for the drama that sells, and they know it and capitalise on it. I hate it; it’s not what should be focused upon to the exclusion of all else; it’s only a part of the process, a small fragment of the whole.

  In a situation like the filming of the elephant kill, for example, discretion could have been exercised, and the scenes of prolonged suffering brought to a swifter end. It would have made no difference whatsoever to the outcome of the feature, or to its value as a documentary.

  Switching my standpoint to that of a parent, I accept that kids, mine included, will sit through a movie like ‘The Texas Chain Saw Massacre’, yet skip channels featuring wildlife gore.

  Violence can be a part of their entertainment, but it’s fiction and not to be taken too seriously. In the case of my kids, living in the bush as they have for a major portion of their lives, they aren’t blind to some of the less pleasant realities of that life. My daughter has had to hold a spotlight for me while I shot a hippo suffering from a broken jaw. They both know about taking a hook out of a trout’s mouth and shortly thereafter consigning it to the frying pan. They’re not vegan pacifists and neither am I. But they are, as are many of their friends, extremely uncomfortable with the excessive volume of blood and gore portrayed in wildlife documentaries, even though they have been exposed to more than a normal share of the harsher side of nature. And this has nothing to do with my concerns about the truth being massaged for cinematographic effect; they just don’t like the focus and emphasis on what comes across as cruelty.

  My point, in a nutshell, is that I consider the preoccupation with gruesome detail to be a misguided focus and the emphasis on getting the shot, no matter what, a misguided motivation.

  Now, how does this relate to our everyday life in the bush? Well, if we followed the lead of some of these documentary film-makers, we would have to endorse endless suffering as part of nature in the raw. As an alternative, I believe, in situations like the examples quoted, we as game rangers should make a judgement call. We should intervene where and when we can, and to hell with letting nature take its course in such circumstances!

  Just as I question the morality of employing endless scenes of suffering in the interests of so-called authenticity in the production of documentaries, I question the morality of taking the supposed high ground and letting wildlife endure unnecessary pain when we could step in and end the suffering. This is particularly applicable in situations where the prolonged agony of an animal appears to serve no other purpose than sensationalism. In my opinion, if documentary filmmakers were as in love with their wildlife subjects as they claim to be, they would temper their activities with more compassion. It appears that on occasion, authenticity is subject to flexible interpretation. All I ask is for the need for compassion to be considered with a similar degree of flexibility.

  Again, if David Attenborough can produce the quality documentaries he does without the gore, then perhaps others can take a page out of his book. However, the need for compassion is subject to infinitely variable considerations. We could ask: ‘Where does one draw the line?’ and the words ‘it depends’ would have to be in the answer.

  It was the Great Soul, Mahatma Gandhi, who said that one can judge a country and its people by the way they treat their animals. I suspect then that the exploitation of needless suffering of animals would most certainly have qualified for his black list.

  In the world of nature, in every ecosystem on earth, death is a functioning and necessary process, and as such is an everyday part of our jobs as game rangers. We understand that wild animals are going through suffering to some degree all the time. This is particularly evident in large, ecologically dynamic systems such as ours, and we accept this. What I won’t accept is the promotion of a laissez-faire attitude to preventable cruelty when it is evident we cannot adopt a cavalier attitude to the concept of leaving nature to its own devices. We need to exercise reasoned and reasonable judgement and apply it with compassion.

  Game rangers do not run around dispatching every animal with a limp and I am not advocating that they do. Nor are they expected to assist lions in killing their prey because they believe the victim could be killed more efficiently with a well-placed bullet. Rangers are called upon to make some tough decisions at times, and acting out of innate compassion, will paradoxically need to destroy a surprising number of injured and suffering animals in the course of their duties. The culling of surplus animals for the purpose of population management is another duty, but is not part of this moral and ethical discussion. While the mechanics of killing become more efficient and routine, it never becomes a pleasure. And game rangers don’t get extra points for killing, not ever. The majority of true conservationists I know feel as I do, and would sooner put an animal out of its misery, and have it filmed being eaten dead, rather than leave it to slowly die in agony as it is eaten to death.

  And please, don’t believe any of the self-serving nonsense about ‘in shock ’, ‘endorphins’ and ‘painless’; believe me, warm-blooded animals feel pain just like you and I do! They just don’t understand it as well as you and I do.

  The possibility of raising the eyebrows of proponents of objective scientific management is something of an additional concern to game rangers. This means that not too many rangers will have the courage to voice their opinions, or act on their convictions for fear of professional recrimination. This is notwithstanding the present unwritten protocol which concedes that any ‘man-induced’ injury sustained by an animal should be managed by man, e
ither in the form of treatment of the animal where warranted, or the humane destruction of the animal if necessary.

  We all know that there is nowhere in the world where the influence of man’s hand cannot be felt, so the question is, what is the definition of ‘man-induced’ and at what point do we interfere?

  The overpopulation and unnatural concentration of elephant is the prime reason that lions will resort to treating this cumbersome and dangerous animal as prey. In our reserve, the ratio between the plains game species and the buffalo and elephant populations is relatively well balanced. Lions emanating from the Klaserie, which grew up on buffalo, do not actively hunt them on Olifants, because there is still abundant plains game available. It’s logical – why tackle animals that are large, difficult to kill and fight back, when there is easier prey to be had? In the Klaserie, buffalo constitute 52 per cent of known lion kills, while just across the border in our region of Balule, with a similar lion density, this figure drops to less than three per cent. In living memory, not a single elephant has been killed by lion on this reserve, despite the majority of the elephant population constituting cows and calves.

  So what’s the point of this apparent digression? I believe that in an area where lions are known to routinely kill elephant, you can be reasonably certain that it is because there is very little else for them to hunt.

  This massive imbalance could be the result of severe ongoing drought conditions, in which water is being artificially provided, and/or there is large-scale and gross habitat mismanagement. Whatever the reasons, the influence of man can always be held responsible to some degree. Therefore the argument for unconditionally leaving things to nature holds no water, and consequently there is no excuse to turn a blind eye to what is essentially ‘man-induced’ cruelty. If we injure the environment, we injure some of its inhabitants.

  In context with everything I have gone on about, I have a few snippets of personal and pertinent advice for any prospective game ranger.

  Be compassionate but always allow discretion to temper your decisions in this regard.

  Despite wanting to get into the bush and as far away from humanity as possible, learn to communicate with people first, and then if you must, try the Dr Doolittle stuff with animals later.

  As old-fashioned as this may sound, it is important that you learn to shoot, and to shoot well. The better shot you are, the more efficient you become, and the less suffering there will be when you are called upon to put an animal out of its misery. I have come across many instances of campaigners crying ‘leave things to nature’ and then turning out to be very poor shots, incapable of ending unspeakable agony with a single well-placed bullet. Thus they have no confidence in themselves to do the job that deep down they know should be done; they lack true compassion.

  Footnote

  Education, and a nationwide poverty upliftment programme, is being regarded as the most effective long-term solution to alleviate the scourge of man’s cruelty to animals. In the meantime, the suffering goes on. This situation includes appalling cruelty to domestic animals in some of the outlying smallholdings, informal settlements and townships in our country.

  Apparently the cheapest and most practical tool needed to alleviate the misery of the thousands of creatures that are beyond help is a .22 calibre pistol! This was from the mouth of a young volunteer working for an animal anti-cruelty organisation, when, in general conversation, I happened to ask him what piece of equipment he most needed to ease the suffering he encountered on a daily basis.

  The opinions expressed here are my own. They reflect my personal feelings about certain moral and ethical issues concerning the capitalisation upon cruelty, the lack of compassion and/or the portrayal of fiction as fact in certain documentary films. The references to specific incidents is in no way meant as a general statement about all documentaries made by all film-makers. The criticisms are specific; they reflect my personal viewpoint on those specific examples and I make no apologies for that.

  Rangers and Rifles

  March 2010

  Weapons are usually associated with death and destruction … true. So understandably many people find it difficult to understand the incongruity of how something so devastatingly destructive as a high-powered rifle finds a place in nature conservation management, or indeed that rangers are required to know how to use them.

  In the hands of a dedicated conservationist, a weapon is used on occasion to deliver a merciful quick death when called upon to end an animal’s suffering. They are also essential culling tools when used to control herbivore populations, particularly in smaller reserves, where habitat management requires a hands-on approach. From a conservation ecology perspective, this is another example of the weapon being used for a constructive purpose as apposed to a destructive one. Lastly, due to the nature of our work in Big Five reserves where we may be confronted by armed poachers and dangerous game from time to time, a weapon for protection in these life-threatening circumstances would be indispensable.

  Although the use of firearms is widely accepted as integral to the management of game reserves, I’m hoping that by the end of this discussion, those concerned will better understand that the judicious use of a weapon in skilled hands is an absolute necessity at times. Critical to this understanding is that it is only when a weapon is placed in a conservationist’s hands that it can be regarded as a ‘tool’ of the ranger’s trade, so to speak.

  There are those fortunate individuals who have a natural tendency or talent for a particular sport; others are born gifted artists. It goes without saying, then, that in the majority of these situations, procedural application and training is merely a precursor to inevitable excellence and achievement … well, it was never like that for me.

  I was captain of my school’s first rugby team, and although I regarded myself as a good scrum half, looking back in objective hindsight, I have to admit I was probably chosen to captain the team for other reasons. Perhaps it was my attention to the little details, or my persistence in getting the technical side of things right that made me the best I was going to be. I would read about the world’s best players, their techniques, the type of kit they wore, and how they trained, absorbing as much as I could to improve my playing. Basically I made up for my lack of natural talent by working with whatever I could glean from the best. I combined this with an ability to read a situation and sometimes make the right decision under pressure. It was probably this that helped us win the odd game, or what made me a better player, and at least the coach was happy… It was the same with shooting.

  Many good marksmen are born with a predisposition to becoming good shots; not all of them are hunters or interested in hunting. Sandy Watson stands out in this regard. His parents emigrated from Scotland to South Africa in 1965, and although the family settled in suburban Johannesburg, they spent every spare moment outdoors or crafting things. His father and brother preferred fishing to shooting and initially Sandy enjoyed the latter, he was a natural with a rifle, a gifted marksman. Anybody who can shoot red-billed teal on the wing with an air rifle steps into this arena, in my book anyway. As a young schoolboy he would provide the family with a regular supply of guineafowl and francolin, all taken with head shots using his air rifle. These were roasted on weekends and enjoyed by the whole family, including myself on occasion.

  The turning point in his shooting life came later when he was able to join a few friends on an antelope hunt in the northern Transvaal. One morning, he shot an impala, a head shot of course, but instead of the expected jubilation that comes when an animal is painlessly killed with a good shot, there was none. The look of shock and disbelief at the destructive power of a soft-nosed bullet was written all over his face: the impala’s head wasn’t a pretty sight, but then what slaughtered animal is? Sandy didn’t say much, he seldom did, but this time he was quieter than usual, then he handed the 30/06 rifle back to his brother and to this day has never hunted again … not even with his air rifle. Sandy went on to pursue another ta
lent of his and became a graphic artist. His love for the outdoors never diminished: he took up scuba diving and went on to become a scuba diving instructor.

  I knew what I wanted to do with my life from an early age, so I prepared myself with the absolute basics from the outset. I immersed myself in the ways of nature wherever I could, and biology became my favourite subject at school. I built a huge aviary which gave me untold enjoyment and taught me so much about certain wild birds and their breeding habits. I also taught myself to shoot. I was not born with a silver bullet in my mouth, but I found that with a lot of practice and the best accessories I could afford, I soon became an above-average shot. Although my marksmanship was nothing approaching proficient, I was comfortable and confident that I could get the job done if need be. However, to this day I still practice to keep my eye in.

  Besides a BSA air rifle which I used to sharpen my shooting when I was a youngster, my first ‘real’ rifle was a 30/06 Springfield which I bought when I was 17 years old.

  Irving Stevenson and I were walking the downtown streets of Johannesburg one day when we happened on Laxton’s Hunting and Fishing shop at the bottom end of Bree Street. The display in the window drew us in like moths to a lamp. It had obviously been done by someone who knew the outdoors intimately. The scene, complete with twisted logs, dry winter grass and camping equipment amidst a strategically placed plethora of fishing and hunting gear, transported us off the concrete paving underfoot, out of the busy traffic in the street behind and into the wild unknown. Naturally we were lured in to browse, even though I had not planned to buy anything that morning, let alone a rifle – I couldn’t afford one anyway.

  As if the window display wasn’t enough, the man behind the counter grabbed my attention immediately. He was a tall grey-haired man in his late fifties with a neatly kept full beard, a little like Ernest Hemingway, I thought at the time. Although he looked the part standing in front of the rows of firearms on display, he didn’t give the impression of wanting to be there. As we approached he thrust a strong hand that had spent too much time in the sun across the counter, and with a smile introduced himself as Manny Laxton.