The Monster of Manier Plat

Hunting a Werewolf

Blood orange and ominously large, the full moon began its climb above the African skyline. Like the last ember of a dying fire, it cast a soft but spooky glow over the veld. For months now, mothers had watched the bones of their offspring being crushed inside the most powerful jaws on Earth. Freshly born springbok lambs and even young roan calves were disappearing at an alarming rate and nothing was standing in the monster’s wake. Tonight, he was on the prowl for warm, red blood, again. Once, a shy and a carrion devouring fiend that hid in the shadows, he had now become a killer. And with his 10 inch whiskers and nearly two-inch K9s, he slid between the thorn and acacia, and lurked in their shadows like a mass murderer on the prowl.

The common approach to killing a carrion eater is to bait them into a location with spoiling flesh, where you’re as hidden as they try to live. But once a scavenger learns to kill they abandon the search for the dead and find their sustenance among the living. With no larger or more violent predators providing nightly buffets or working as competition, they take control of the countryside and wreak havoc at will. For this beast a different approach was required.

We scouted the area. Found a fresh kill, and we found the unmistakable saucer plate sized tracks with the claw marks pressing deep into the red dirt. Based on the sign, my long time professional hunter Geoffrey Wayland felt he knew where the beast had its lair. All we needed now was the ability to see – just as the monster we were after sees – in the dark. We paired thermal vision with a rifle capable of smacking the monster hard, at whatever distance was necessary, and we spent the requisite time on the range perfecting the zero and memorizing the seemingly flat trajectory of the 7mm Backcountry. With the knowledge that one shot would be all that we would get, we then called in another professional — a professional who would make the calls required to lure the killer into the open.

The wind was gentle and steady and when we first saw him he was circling us at about 300 yards in that crippling looking lope that comes from a body God crafted to have massive power in the jaws and shoulders but what seems like a stunted rear end, giving the creature a painful looking gait, almost like a giant dog that’s just learned to run on newly found legs, or sort of like a young sailor turned werewolf trying to shake off his sea legs.

He was too far and not slowing down, so we moved to cut him off and to keep the wind in our favor, hoping, if the beast did scent us, the blood of the eland and wildebeest that blackened the bed of the truck would confuse his keen nose — a nose that’s capable of scenting day-old dried blood from over a mile away. We stopped, in sort of a hull defilade position behind a big acacia tree, flipped on our riflescopes, and turned the African dark into a mix of cold white and hot black.

We had to make another location change to outsmart the creature, but he was too alert and was not going to make it easy for us. He immediately switched direction and we repositioned with yet another stealthy, lightless move. Between the professional caller teasing the creature with sounds of a springbok lamb being devoured, and the other professional hunter navigating the terrain, we managed to make the right call, and the monster made his last mistake.

He appeared in the thermal sight, like a black digitized signature of some fearsome video game, dog-like monstrous foe from Dungeon and Dragons. His ears were wide, alert, and that powerful neck the size of a grown man’s waist was supporting his massive and erect head that was filled with sharp jagged ivory. His eyes — could I have seen them — were surely full of malice as he undoubtedly pondered the nighttime antagonist he was facing. He stood, statue like still, lording over the veld at 246 dark yards.

The hair on the back of my neck was standing, electrified, my gut was tight, and adrenalin rushed through my body. I placed the bright red reticle where I wanted the 3000 fps fast-stepping 175-grain bullet to strike. With an open left eye I could see my breath in the near freezing African night, and with my hand and finger, as cold as a railroad spike in the dead of winter, I pressed the trigger.

The suppressor allowed us to hear the thump of the bullet, it sounded like a body shot from Randall Tex Cobb, and the thunk signified a solid connection with the monster. The 2500 foot-pounds of kinetic energy the Tipped Fusion bullet had to work with at that lonely and dark distance was more than the creature could handle. He collapsed, disappearing in the same long grass he used to conceal himself from unsuspecting new born antelope.

The big male brown hyena that had once terrorized thousands of acres, like a man turned werewolf would prey upon a community when the full moon shined over his domain, was now dead. The bush — at least a several thousand acre section — was once again safe for the antelope to rear and raise their young, now, with only the small, obnoxious, and much less horrifying jackals to fear. The strandwolf stands no more!

---

The Brown Hyena

Also know as the “strandwolf” the brown hyena is native to most of Southern Africa. Its range extends up into Namibia, Botswana, and Zimbabwe. An average male will weigh between 80 and 90 pounds, with specimens over 100 pounds being recorded. The brown hyena has one of the most powerful jaws in the world and can exert a bite force greater than a Cane Corso or even a lion. It is mostly a nocturnal creature that is rarely seen in the day. In the two decades I’ve been hunting in Africa I have never seen one. They have a wolf-like social hierarchy, but are very recluse like.

Largely considered scavengers and carrion eaters, where major predators like lion and leopard have been moved out or exterminated, the brown hyena can turn to hunting, and their very aggressive nature, paired with their immense jaw strength makes them a formidable predator. Brown hyenas have been known to run leopards from their kills and back them down in a fight. The modern predatory nature of the hyena is often downplayed in an effort to encourage farmers not to kill them. But make no mistake, they are a fearsome force to recon with, and are capable of dire wickedness.

The brown hyena is considered “near threatened” and can only be hunted by permit for population control purposes. The trophy is not exportable to the United States.