A Different Perspective on Conservation

With my deep involvement at Buffalo Kloof—a place that proudly merges hunting with eco-tourism—I often find myself in camp with guests, sharing the unique blend of conservation and adventure we offer. Buffalo Kloof isn’t simply a hunting destination; we’re one of the first places to bring these two worlds together. Yet, one question arises repeatedly: “Hannah, do you hunt?”

For years, my answer was a simple “no,” and that left some guests stunned. How could I represent a place like this, with its deep roots in conservation-minded hunting, if I had never pulled the trigger myself? Some people saw it as a contradiction, while others shared my perspective, having never participated in this activity either.

At 26 years of age, the answer has always been clear to me—I understood the value of hunting as a conservation tool because I grew up exposed to and educated about it. Still, I never felt the need to take an animal’s life personally. I was always eager to join and observe, camera in hand, but never felt the drive to be the one making the shot.

Had I not grown up at Buffalo Kloof, I might have held some of the same doubts that people on the outside have about this activity.  It’s easy to see it as just a sport, but being exposed to the realities has shown me that it’s so much more. I’m a complete animal lover, and if I hadn’t seen the positive impact of ethical, regulated hunting on wildlife conservation and habitat management firsthand, I might have been a “greenie” myself, questioning why someone would want to participate in this activity at all.

The truth is, Buffalo Kloof wouldn’t be where it is today without hunting, nor would it thrive. For the past four years, I’ve been deeply involved in the day-to-day operations and marketing of this special place, yet I didn’t have the personal urge to hunt. Recently, though, I wanted to experience it firsthand—maybe to understand what hunters feel; I was hungry to find out more about the experience.

When I finally made the decision. I didn’t have a specific animal in mind. I simply wanted to start small with an overpopulated species. After discussing it with Adrian, our lead professional hunter, I told him, I’m ready to see what this is all about.

On our first day, we stalked impala four times. Each attempt just didn’t pan out—warthogs gave us away, a rhino alerted the herd to our presence, or the impala moved just as I steadied my aim. I didn’t want to rush and risk wounding an animal, so Adrian knew he had to be patient. By the end of the day, I hadn’t taken a shot myself, though others in our group were successful. Somehow, that made the experience even richer—maybe it just wasn’t meant to happen that day, and it only heightened the anticipation for what was to come.

The next morning, I was more determined than ever. I finally got the chance I’d been waiting for, but my first shot was a miss—I had lifted my head too soon, nerves getting the best of me.

Adrian reassured me, reminding me that this was all part of the process. “Relax and enjoy it,” he said, emphasizing the importance of patience. “We’ve got time; the right shot will present itself when it’s meant to be.” His words helped me settle into the moment, and later that day, I got another opportunity. This time, everything aligned, and I took down my first impala.

I felt a profound connection to the land, the species, and the purpose behind this activity; it was challenging, unpredictable, and deeply rewarding.

Afterward, I knew I wanted a keepsake to remember this special experience, so I decided to mount the horns—not as a trophy, but as a tribute. When people say hunting is about more than the trophy, I finally understood. It’s about a connection that words can hardly describe. I realised that this experience had given me a deeper understanding, one that I hope to share with others who may be sceptical or curious. Those who are privileged to experience it in my opinion are the only ones who really understand.

Who knows where this journey will take me? I have no plans to make this a regular activity—I’ve got too much else to do here at Buffalo Kloof!

But, if the opportunity to pursue a kudu arises, I’ll take it; they’re challenging and elusive, a true test of patience and skill. Maybe I’ve caught the bug—who would have thought? Those who know me well wouldn’t believe it!

In the end, I know I don’t always have to be the one to pull the trigger. Not everyone should be a hunter, and there’s a balance in knowing which animals to pursue and when. It’s a privilege to witness the role ethical hunting plays in conservation, contributing to the wildlife and habitats we strive to protect.

I hope that those who view this activity solely through a negative lens, will consider the broader picture and understand that while you don’t have to be the one pulling the trigger, being open to its complexities can lead to a deeper appreciation for our shared commitment to conservation.

My first experience was far more powerful than I anticipated. This isn’t just about taking a life; for me, it’s about a connection—a commitment to conservation, to the land, and to the wildlife that defines Buffalo Kloof.

As I reflect on this journey, I’m reminded that “the journey we embark on is as important as the destination; in every step, we learn, grow, and connect with the world around us.” And I’ve come to realise that “hunting is not an end, but a means—an opportunity to protect the wildlife we cherish and preserve the habitats that sustain us.”