by Jim Barton
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| Asher Watkins |
A Dallas multimillionaire realtor and big game hunter, 52 year old Asher Watkins, was killed August 3 by a buffalo while on safari in Limpopo Province, South Africa.
According to Coenraad Vermaak Safaris (CVS), which describes itself as South Africa’s longest-running hunting safari company, Watkins was tracking the animal alongside a professional hunter and a tracker when it suddenly attacked.
The animal, a Cape buffalo also known as the “Black Death,” can weigh over a ton and is considered one of the most dangerous to hunt in Africa.
Watkins, who ran the Watkins Ranch Group, grew up on a ranch, was an avid hunter, and maintained a large collection of rifles, often posting photos of his hunts on social media.
The fatal encounter happened on the second day of a luxury lodge-based hunting tour. The safari company said the attack was “sudden and unprovoked” and that they were supporting Watkins’ family during “this tragic loss.” The Custodians of Professional Hunting and Conservation, a South African hunting industry group, said the circumstances are under review.
Buffalo-related hunting deaths are not uncommon in the region. In 2018, another big-game hunter was killed by a buffalo in Limpopo.
The killing has drawn sharp criticism from animal rights groups. People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) called trophy hunting a “cruel pastime” and said the death “didn’t have to happen.” Another group, We Will Not Be Silenced about Hunters, said Watkins’ death was a consequence of seeking to kill South African wildlife.
Despite ongoing controversy and opposition from conservationists, safari hunting remains a common and lucrative industry in southern Africa, attracting clients from around the world.
The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill (Lennon/McCartney)
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill, Bungalow Bill?
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill, Bungalow Bill?
He went out tiger hunting with his elephant and gun
In case of accidents, he always took his mum
He's the all American bullet-headed Saxon mother's son
All the children sing
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill, Bungalow Bill?
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill, Bungalow Bill?
Deep in the jungle where the mighty tiger lies
Bill and his elephants were taken by surprise
So Captain Marvel zapped him right between the eyes
All the children sing
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill, Bungalow Bill?
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill, Bungalow Bill?
The children asked him if to kill was not a sin
"Not when he looked so fierce", his mummy butted in
"If looks could kill, it would have been us instead of him"
All the children sing
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill, Bungalow Bill?
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill, Bungalow Bill?
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill, Bungalow Bill?
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill, Bungalow Bill?
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill, Bungalow Bill?
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill, Bungalow Bill?
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill, Bungalow Bill?
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill, Bungalow Bill?
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The Cape buffalo does not negotiate. It does not read the waiver you sign at the lodge or care about the rifle price tag or your Dallas net worth. It carries a simple violent equation in its head: threat equals charge. And in Limpopo the math solved itself.
ReplyDeleteWatkins had the look of a man convinced that distance, money, and hardware could bend reality. A lifetime of curated landscapes and closing deals, then suddenly he was knee deep in the raw unconscious of the African bush where the ancient circuitry still sparks. Something primal in him must have felt the weight of that stare, the same way the buffalo’s blood knew the shape of his intent. The collision was inevitable.
The safari brochures sell it clean, the heroic stalk, the victorious pose, but the truth is filthy and wet. Every so called sporting kill leaves a residue, a psychic film the hunter scrubs away with whiskey and photographs. The animal feels it too, in some wordless way, and sometimes it sends the message back down the barrel.
The dust rose, the horns found their mark, and the performance ended without applause. No redemption, no tragedy in the Greek sense, only the blunt fact of a body in the dirt, a small piece of the wilderness cashing in on its own revenge economy.