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loosely translated :

The French Hunter # 646 December 1950 Page 709 The French Hunter magazine # 646 1950
All rights reserved Back to Number 646

Tragic lion hunt (year 1950)

A few months ago, a daily Brazzaville announced the disappearance of four lines of hunting guide Marcel Vincent, accidentally killed by a lion.

This type of accident is extremely rare. Long ago, a director who was both a pioneer of hunting wild animals in French Equatorial Africa, Bruneau de Laborie, well known for his memoirs, had suffered the same fate, but since lions had earned a reputation for cowardice that no one thought to question.

The lioness accompanied by her cubs had a little less flattering reputation, but the male was almost considered as completely innocuous.

In my first trip to Chad, I had knowledge of Doun, currently one of the finest ornaments of the Zoo de Vincennes, which was then a young cub a year, affectionate like a big yellow dog, with which his master, Captain Le Goff, started at Fort Archambault on joyous friendly competition.

Again this year, in Fort Archambault, the capital of hunting, with a brickmaker, Mr. Tiran, was a peaceful lion peace the same age, along with a Panther perfect home, which is rarer.

How was therefore to happen this terrible accident, which set in grief Fort Archambault, where Vincent had only friends?

I left this year for a third film expedition in French Equatorial Africa, and Vincent, whom I had engaged as a guide, remembering his caution and his proven competence in my previous expeditions, had promised to make me film lion hunts, day and night.

Unfortunately my supply of magnesium remained down in Douala. Vincent did not hesitate then to decide that our opponent would be driven out of date. After fifteen days of hunting and shooting wide range on the banks of Lake Iro, we installed our base along the Aouk, and after tiring of research, a herd of three lions had been reported to the west of Fort Cannone . (Cannone is the step father of mentionned Tiran, whose sons Marcel and Michel are today (2012) reputed Phs),

We spoored many days, we left regular baits and we could even one day realize, first hand, that at least the animals wore a magnificent mane.

This shows, incidentally, that the legend of the maneless lion of Chad is likely to be false.

But that day we found ourselves in a setting of green grass and tall enough I had not done more than my fellow movie shooting!

Then, after alternatives hunts quite varied, including a magnificent hit on a respectable buffalo , we found traces of "our family".

Accelerated progression led us to a very dense thicket on the edge of the river. Vincent entered it, saw a group of lions, but as it was unsafe to remain in this place more than unhealthy, our entire team withdrew in the open, expecting to see lions out in retirement.

We were dealing with old rogues ... They left us with no sign of life, and while we despaired of ever seeing them out and we left our rear base for us to approach the thicket again, the cries of our trackers, refugees in trees, alerted us.

The three lions, with extraordinary flexibility, we had parted company, had crossed with impressive strides the Aouk and had disappeared into the brush on the right bank!

We were furious! We crossed the river after them, in this extreme shallow early rainy season, but lost their trail, in such very unfavorable terrain, it would have been folly to commit.

Vincent did not hesitate to spend the entire afternoon to set baits on both banks of the Aouk, to multiply our chances tomorrow.

And the day of the tragedy happens.

At 5:00, the early start that's familiar with all clients on safari. At 6:00, we hear roaring, and fairly close to us in the direction of the nearest bait, what makes us all happy!

Fifteen minutes later, to the location of the bait, we see a beautiful animal, with an impressive mane, who walks slowly looking satiated ...

And, indeed, all that remains of our antelope absolutely nothing except a jaw. !

But while Vincent is about to shoot, one of the black made an awkward movement, and the lion awake after our attack of yesterday, disappears into the undergrowth.

This time, we are absolutely furious ... and the clumsy black was well sermonned!

Ten minutes later another lion, smaller in stature, comes in view at 150 meters. Vincent, excellent shot, try a long shot with his 416, a weapon which he had total confidence. I see the lion crush and t believes it was dead, but Vincent assures me he did not kill the animal ...

Indeed, we rush, but do find a small pool of blood, the animal is wounded in the hip level, and this type of injury does not determine with certainty the importance of shock by our opponent.

Our tracking continues, more and more cautious. The blood of the beast draws a pretty easy trail, and open ground where beautiful green herbs have no chance of harboring an animal lurking to attack us ...

Then the traces are engaged in a very thick bush, we invest with our boys, uttering screams to get out the wounded lion, but our cries remain fruitless.

Vincent is very indecisive: he scorns the lion, it is a fact, and he has said many times, but it does not make me run unnecessary risks, and it gives me a gun with three bullets.

- That way, if there's some sport, you're ready! I do not want to disillusion him, but in reality, entangled between my camera and this rifle, I am no more worried than I was in the shadow of Vincent, without any arms, as I used to in front of buffalos and elephants ... This is probably the tactic that saved my life ... for suddenly the lion comes in perfectly open ground, while I am deported to the right of my comrade in a sloping meadow, which should provide me with an excellent location for a possible shooting.

Vincent yells me not to shoot, presumably to spare myself a sensational plan, and space very short time during which I hesitate between my camera and my peashooter, the lion heads, charging Vincent, who has just time to retreat to a small tree, he attacks the kidneys and legs ... A howl makes me look up the ground where I was trying to grab a camera ... Vincent cryies shoot , so I aimed at the back legs of the animal to avoid hurting my friend, and the lion, leaving its victim, run back into the forest after the fantastic effort he has have realized ...

This drama did not last more than two seconds. Vincent agonizes, the lion roars to ten meters and I have no more ammunition.

Vincent still has a low call begging me to pick up his rifle ... I admit I hesitated, trembling with the horrible spectacle which I had noticed only the conclusion, although he held himself entirely to within 15 meters of my eyes ...

But I can not let my friend die, and I also know the extent of his injuries, and at risk of being torn to pieces in my turn, I jumped at the foot of the tree, I picked up a weapon red from blood, climbs into another tree and shot at close range the lion, rolling, legs in the air, on my fourth ball.

At that time, the trackers come help me, but Vincent was almost knocked on the spot, his spine seems broken, he bled to death from multiple injuries.

Thus disappeared Marcel Vincent, Knight of the Legion of honor, Companion of the Liberation hero of campaigns in Syria, Palestina, Eritrea, Libya (El Alamain, Tobrouk) and France. Military Medal (GB) Twice severely wounded from 1940 to 1944, death had so far none of him..

Now it rests in the little cemetery at Fort Archambault already sleeping whith Latham, aviation pioneer who died in 1912 in a buffalo hunt, and Perrien,

local administrator, also killed by the same opponent in 1940.

Three accidents in forty years ... hunting accidents are, fortunately, extremely rare, each time a set of circumstances comes from a fate before which there is only to bow.

But all sportmen who have been driven by Vincent for the past four seasons of Chad miss a true friend, a wise guide, a delightful companion, who has made discover Africa, love Africa, understand Africa.
A. MAHUZIER.

MARCEL TIRAN

Edited by NitroX (31/07/12 05:07 AM)