This is now the story of my main activity in Africa. One could aptly call it “Crocodile Fever”! It is a feeling that grips you right into your very soul, and somehow one has a feeling doing something good every time one shot a croc, who is a cruel ancient prehistoric predator virtually unchanged from the Jurassic Epoch, that will kill without discrimination, animals and humans in a sudden sneaky but ruthless way. So not only was I infected with the moral satisfaction, there was also the ever present tingle of danger, the open wild bush and river lands, the gratitude of the African villager, and also the terrific physical and mental effort which led to a most profitable business enterprise. So this account is how from small beginnings a large industry was made and we were shooting an average of 35 crocs a day and it all started in Durban in April 1953 when Mike O’Niell came to collect me and told me about folk who were going Crocodile hunting. We went into the Public Library, and from there to the American Consulate from whom we got various addresses of firms to whom we wrote and asked if they would be prepared to buy our skins. We then moved up to Rhodesia where I purchased a small home made metal boat powered by a small 2 hp Evenrude engine. The boat was very small, but it did make me mobile on the river and it also taught me the advantages of American engines as opposed to European models. This one started with absolutely unfailing regularity with just one pull, and also it just kept on going, even when the piston was coked up, the plug maybe dirty or the propeller choked with reeds. I developed an unshakeable faith in Evinrude engines! I also purchased very cheaply an old Studebaker vanette that was in a shocking state, but after pulling the engine to bits, scouring all over the place for spare parts and scrap, eventually it was cleaned up and I got it to go. Once again my training during the war in Tanks and armoured cars in India was invaluable in starting me off in this new enterprise. So I set off and established a camp at the River Kafue about 30
miles south of Lusaka. The camp was located near the bridge and I made camp there for about a month. Over the other side of the river under some trees and nestling in the shade, was a small African village and further downstream were even larger thicker trees where I got to know a man called Komo who was a fisherman who was one of the first to start fishing the Kafue with a big net. He had come with his family from Lake Nyasa and was always accompanied by his son who rejoiced with the name of Goodrich named after the motor tyres, because when his father wanted a net he would obtain an old truck tyre, and very carefully strip away the rubber leaving the nylon reinforcing cord which his womenfolk would carefully clean and make up their large nets of about 100 – 150 yards long which were placed across the river in the dry season and pulled in. Komo and his family had a good income of about £15 – 20 per day when he was fishing about 3 days a week for about 4 months in the year. His wife was in charge of the money and would ration him with a little for drinking, which was an ideal life of ease with little to do, and they were extremely happy and contented.
Goodrich was fascinated with the idea of hunting crocodiles and would come out with me at night with a weak little headlight trying to spot the crocs which to start with I used an old .303. They were not easy to spot and I did not know enough about handling the boat, nor did I know about the incredible attention to detail that was needed in knowing how to approach them. To start with I could only shoot the smaller ones and then they would sink and be lost much to my annoyance and disappointment. I was desperate until one day completely exhausted, I drifted off to sleep on a small island into which I had driven the boat, and there across the river I caught the eye of a huge beast of a crocodile. I launched the boat out once more and slowly went towards it, but he went down and I tried this twice with the same result. So I rethought out my tactics and finally I went upstream and switched the engine off
