Édoaurd Foà

I just finished reading Édouard Foà's AFTER BIG GAME IN CENTRAL AFRICA, which in the unabridged form typical of late XIX and early XX centuries also says: "Records of a sportsman from August 1894 to November 1897, when crossing the Dark Continent from the mouth of the Zambesi to the French Congo."

I bought this book at Powell's Books during a very pleasant trip to Portland, OR, during May 2014, but just recently had the time to work on it. Of Monsieur Foà five books, this is the only one translated into English. But before making comments and considerations on this excellent read, I would like to introduce Monsieur Foà to those that have not met him before!

Édouard Foà was born in Marseille in 1862 and lost his parents as a teenager when he had to leave his studies at the Collège de Bône in Tunis and found a job as interpreter at the local English Consulate while working at the same time at the post office administration. At 18 he volunteered for the French Army, resigning as a Non-Commissioned Officer  at 23 while serving at Dahomey, current day Benin. From 1886 he was engaged in expeditions to explore the west coast of Africa.

In 1891 he was put in charge by the Muséum National d'Historie Naturelle of a mission to explore southern Africa, and during the two year journey he was able to combine the scientific work with his passion of hunting. 

In 1894 he returned to Africa where during the next three years he would cross the continent from the Zambezi to the Congo, a trip that among other works would result (posthumously) in After Big Game In Central Africa.

Now I would like to report on the firearms that Monsieur Foà selected for this journey into the unknown:

• 1 Double-barrelled 8-bore rifle
• 2 Express 577-bore rifles
• 1 Express 303-bore rifle (Metford)
• 1 smooth 12-bore Winchester six-shot repeater (I believe it to be a Model 1893)
• 1 smooth 32-bore double barrel fowling-piece (for collection of small birds)

All four rifles were side-plate exposed hammer actions, as at the time Monsieur Foà did not believe that the new hammerless actions (either side-lock or box-lock) were robust or reliable enough to endure such a journey, away from any competent gunsmith. By the photographies in the book, all the rifles appear to be of the robust and proven Jones underlever design.

Being so conservative in his choice of rifles (it is understandable that he did not have a Level 8mm as French law regarded and regards military cartridges as War Material), I was impressed to see his selection for a repeating shotgun, which he always kept handy for self-protection against four or two-legged predators!

As for the ammunition, the details are the following:

• 8-bore: 100 "small" cartridges with round 2 1/2 ounce bullets and 5 drachms of powder, for buffaloes and to dispatch large pachydermata; and 100 "large" cartridges with conical 4 ounce 1 drachm bullets and 8 drachms of powder, for elephants and rhinoceroses;
• Express 577: 1,600 express bullet cartridges (6 drachms of powder), with copper tube, weighing 1 ounce 2 drachms; and 800 cartridges with solid bullets ordinary lead, of 1 ounce 5 drachms;
• Express 303 (Metford): 500 cartridges, with solid bullets of great penetration for defense or shots at head (hippopotami, elephants, rhinoceroses), weighting 7 drachms; and an additional 2,400 cartridges with Jeffery bullets (8 drachms), hollow bullet (7 drachms), soft-nosed solid bullets (7 drachms), and soft-nosed express bullets (7 drachms).

All ammunition was supplied by Eley and Kynoch and packed in soldered zinc boxes, ten cartridges in a box.

Monsieur Foà last expedition took place in a time of great transition in the firearms world, black powder to smokeless (chemical) powders, large bore to small bore, lead bullets to engineered jacket bullets, but at early dawn of the repeating bolt-action rifle. By the end of the book it becomes apparent that the 8-bore became more of a nuisance than necessity, and that when other rifles were not at hand, the little 303 Express killed every animal that it shot at when the bullet was well placed, from lion to rhinoceros to elephant.

Let's remember that Alexander Lake in his book Killers in Africa tells us that he used almost exclusively a 303 Lee-Enfield for his hunting, and that he considered that the 270 Winchester with a 150 grain bullet would be a proper replacement for it. Mr. Lake also had a very low opinion of the heavy express rifles as the brutal recoil disrupted proper bullet placement.

Similarly, in Green Hills of Africa Ernest Hemingway uses almost exclusively a 30-06 Springfield by Griffin & Howe during both his 1933 and 1953/54 safaris, shooting 220 grain solids for buffalo and lion.

Another point that I would like to cover is on Monsieur Foà discussions on the Eatable Quality of Animals and the Hunter's Bill of Fare. After long reflection and a rather long time in the bush, he proposes the following menu for when having distinguished guests at camp:

MENU

SOUP

Consommé of buffalo tail. Eland Soup.

HOUR'S D'OEUVRE

White ants, grasshoppers on the point of laying.

ENTREES

Jugged wild cat, elephant's foot à la poulette, giraffe's tongue with caper sauce.

VEGETABLES

Mushrooms, Bonongwe with eland's marrow, Runi, Mtanga with ground nuts.

ROASTS

Elephant's heat larded with warthog fat, rolled rhinoceros fillet, monkey en papillote, agouti stuffed with tortoise.

SALAD

Matako ia tsano.

DESERTS

Fulas, matondos mtduzi, tchendje, and various others.

WINE AND BEER

Moa or pombe and fresh Chiromo nchena.

Shortly after presenting this sumptuous (but for us rather impractical and probably unachievable) menu, he comments that: "For my part, I can only repeat what I have already said elsewhere: if we made a list of everything used for food in various parts of the world, vegetables apart, we should come to the conclusion that everything living which nature has placed in the earth is eatable, and that people fond of it may be found.Was it not with this object that animals were created, like an interminable bill of fare, from which man is free to choose what pleases him?"

By the end of what would become his last expedition, Monsieur Foà's bag was the following:

• Large animals            488
• Small game                520
• Various                       220
• Grand Total            1,228

Édouard Foà passed away on 29 June 1901 at Villers-sur-mer (Calvados) due tropical diseases contract during his previous journeys into Africa, or maybe due to a hunter's broken heart, for no longer being able to enjoy the bill of fare from Africa's hinterlands.

Interstice

The Closing of the Second Day

On Monday, 13th July, we started towards the Impala hide before sunrise on a cool and comfortable morning. When we arrived it was still dark enough that we needed a flashlight to help us get set. I adjusted the release around my wrist, knocked an arrow and hang the bow from one of the hooks so it stays easily at hand while keeping the broadhead safely away from the hunters.

Richard poured hot tea in a couple enamel cups and opened a container full of rusks, the hard double baked South African sweet bread, that is almost like hardtack. In order to preserve the teeth, one should dunk the rusks in tea, coffee or milk before eating it. I love rusks and tea in the morning, especially when hunting. Hunting and rusks in morning and hunting and biltong later in the day are just perfect combinations.

The first visitors of the day were a herd of Impala, but there was not a mature ram among them, and sometime later they were pushed away by the arrival of Warthogs, a sow and several immature pigs. They stayed around for a sometime, but again no trophy, which in this case would take the form of nice tusks.

After the Warthog departed a herd of magnificient Eland came to water. There were several cows with their long and slender horns, and a handful of bulls with much heavier spiral horns. The Eland moved around and divided their attention between the water and some feed that Simon had left for them. The cows were a lot more wary than the bulls, and by going round and around they eventually winded us and the herded stampeded towards the bush.

The Wharthog came bag, probably the same animals as before, and by around 10:00 AM me started back to the lodge (actually Richard and Anna's home) for brunch, or was it lunch?

We came back in early afternoon, and the only visitors were giraffe. Shorty is the male, Strippes the female, and then Baby No. 1 and Baby No. 2. Baby No. 1 was almost as tall as his mother. The giraffes are Anna's pets, and they decided not to name the babes any more, as she had a hard time when they sold the previous ones.

Apart from a large diversity and number of birds, no other animals came to the hide that afternoon, but the day ended with a gift of a beautiful sunset that almost made me wish that like Le Petit Prince I could relocate my chair to watch it again.

When planning for this trip, I started to consider which animals I would like to go after. I really wanted a nice Impala and a long tusked warthog, and also Red Hartebeest and Blue Wildebeest would be very high on my list. But in hunting, under ethical and sporting conditions, and especially under the self-imposed limitations associated with bow hunting, the hunter should understand that he who is too picky may go home empty handed.

And although Buffalo Thorn is high-fenced, like almost all hunting properties in South Africa, there is no canned hunting in its one thousand acres. There are three water throughs within the four hides, and the hunter can only be in one of them at a time, the animals can move freely anywhere in the property, and many species can go for days without water.

As I mentioned before, the situation is not intrinsically different from bow hunting for whitetail in Michigan or hunting black bear over bait in Ontario. The surroundings are clearly different, and diversity of species and number of specimens bring constant entertainment to any hunter that loves nature.

During dinner Richard mentioned that he was concerned that for the past two days I had not had the opportunity to take a shot. I assured him that irrespective of that I was having a wonderful time, but that in order to change our luck I would take the first " trophy" that came along the next day.

The Way Hunting Should Be

Bait and friends

In Green Hills of Africa, Ernst Hemingway when pressed by the approaching raining season says that “it is not pleasant to have a time limit by which you must get your kudu or perhaps never get it, nor even see one. It is not the way hunting should be.” The problem is, paraphrasing José Ortega y Gasset, that “in our rather stupid time” we do have time limits for almost everything we do, especially for taking a “vital vacation from the human condition.”

So, in order to avoid feeling pressed by time I just decided that during my week hunting in the Limpopo I would not be a slave of time, and this would only be possible if I really accepted that “the hunter does not hunt in order to kill; on the contrary, he kills in order to have hunted,” and specially that although the kill consummates the hunt, one does not necessarily needs to kill every time in order to have a great hunt.

This more relaxed attitude allowed me to enjoy the hunting much more, and also take time to spend with friends and their families during the week, have long relaxing conversations during the all too frequent meals that almost put an end to my diet, appreciate the people that welcomed me to their home, and learn as much as possible, from conversations, observations and even actions.

So, on my first morning, Sunday 12^th July, I did not set an alarm clock and when I woke up the sun was high in sky and I walked out in my pajamas to great Fanie and Pieter and their families, Ana and Richard. By mid-morning I finally got dressed in more appropriate safari clothes (meaning the same green Bermuda shorts and shirt that I use on a warm weekend around my home) and climbed in the Land Cruiser to drive around the farm, visit each of the four blinds (Buffalo Thorn or Wag-'n-bietjie, Kudu which is the only one without a “water hole”, Impala or Rooibokke and Waterbuck or Waterbokke) while distributing some supplemental feed to help the herd during the dry South African winter.

But even an unpretentious drive can bring surprises, especially when we encountered a small bachelor herd that had at least two Kudu with horns between 55 and 60 inches. Back in 2005 on my first safari I shot an Eastern Cape Kudu that is a beautiful representative specimen for the area, but the Greater Kudu appears to be much larger. Although I love hunting Kudu and in my opinion it is the most beautiful of all antelope and perhaps of all antlered or horned animals, I had already decided that I would not hunt for Kudu this time. My goal was to relax and enjoy a relaxing hunt, and not to drive myself to my physical and psychological limits in a quest for Kudu. But when you see the magnificent animal the heart accelerates, the trigger finger trembles, and your previous resolution is brutally tempted. Oh well, I did not have my bow with me, so it was not so hard to resist temptation.

The Limpopo semi-arid bosveld is both beautiful and diverse and each turn of the dirt road or clump of thorn bushes could hide a new surprise. I knew that bow hunting in Africa would have certain similarities to bow hunting for whitetail deer in Michigan or bear hunting in Ontario: sitting in blind, be quiet and wait…and wait…wait. But it can also be very different, since the hunter will have the opportunity and pleasure to watch and admire a greater number of species and specimens of large game animals in one morning in Africa than in many seasons back home.

Anyhow, after the recognizance drive we came back for a very large breakfast that may or may not have involved a couple beers (it is always after five some place in the world), and then shooting some arrows on a target formally to sight in the bow, but really to allow Richard to evaluate if the hunter (in this case, me) would be able to kill cleanly and not injure and inflict suffering to his animals. And during the it became clear to me that Richard really loves his animals.

By midafternoon, after a nap to fight the jetlag and while Fanie started the braai Simon drove Richard and me to Wag-'n-bietjie, the closest blind to farm compound. In order to not disturb or alarm the animals, there is very little walking on the farm during hunting season. The hunter is driven on the open Land Cruiser to the blind, and after the hunter is inside the blind the door is closed from the outside in order to prevent the temptation to roam around. Along with biltong and drinks, we would also have a couple pee bottles and a radio to call Simon to come and retrieve us, either after a shot was taken or when it was simply time to go.

Soon after we were imprisoned in the blind and Simon left the parade started. First came the birds, doves and pigeons, sand grouse and francolins, and then the boisterous guinea fowl. Shortly after, I was introduced to Bait. In order to bring new blood line and avoid consanguinity, it is the practice in South Africa, where most huntable private land is high-fenced, to introduce new animals to the herds. Bait was one of a couple young impala rams that roamed around the compound, and was clearly recognized by a red tag in its right year. His close friend traitor had the tag in the left year. I only gave them their names towards the end of the week, for whenever we hunted Wag-'n-bietjie either one or both of them would be the first animals in after the Simon left in the Land Cruiser.

Afterwards a herd of Red Hartebeest arrived, but no mature male came close to the water. As the sun started to dip behind the trees that separated Wag-'n-bietjie from the open veldt the wary Blesbok came in. While the hartebeest were almost relaxed and stayed around munching on the feed and licking salt for a long time, the blesbok very cautious and suspicious, and as soon as they drank their fill they hightailed back to the security of the open veldt. During all the time Richard would calmly explain the behavior of each species, how to differentiate between male and female, young and mature animals. He would also patiently answer to my never ending torrent of questions.

By the time the blesbok departed it was becoming too dark to shoot, so Richard radioed Simon to pick us up and after the first cold Carlin Black Label we sat for dinner with roulades (pork, smoked pork and pork belly), roasted corn and squashes. To put the night to bed we polished the remaining Macallan while making plans (or would we better call them dreams) for the following days.