In the deep forests and savannahs of Nigeria, a way of life is quietly fading away. The traditional hunters—keepers of age-old knowledge, guardians of the wild—are dwindling in number. They belong to what many now call the last generation of Nigeria’s traditional hunters.
These men and women are more than just hunters. They are historians, storytellers, and custodians of culture. For centuries, their skills and wisdom helped communities survive, protected forests, and maintained a delicate balance with nature. Today, their voices are becoming rare, and with them, a unique part of Nigeria’s heritage risks vanishing forever.
Walking through villages in states like Benue, Taraba, Cross River, and Edo, you’ll hear stories filled with respect for nature. Hunters speak of their sacred rites before every hunt—prayers to the spirits, rituals that ask for permission to take only what the forest can spare. These customs have been passed down through generations, connecting people to their land in ways modern life struggles to replicate.
Yet, times are changing fast. Urbanisation, deforestation, and stricter wildlife laws are squeezing the forests. Many young people no longer see hunting as a viable or respectable livelihood. Some say it is dangerous; others worry it might bring trouble with the law. With smartphones and schools drawing youth away, fewer apprentices learn the ancient craft.
But the elders insist there is more to their role than meets the eye. They stress conservation and respect, distinguishing their work from illegal poaching. Unlike indiscriminate hunters, traditional hunters are selective, hunting only what is needed and never wasting. They argue their knowledge could even help Nigeria’s efforts to preserve endangered species if it were valued and included in modern wildlife management.
Their stories are compelling, full of wisdom that challenges simple stereotypes. One elder from Cross River explained, “Hunting is not about killing for sport. It is about honouring the forest and knowing its secrets. If we lose that, we lose a part of ourselves.”
Nigeria’s policymakers and environmentalists must listen to these voices. Protecting the country’s natural heritage requires more than laws and penalties; it demands respect for those who have long lived in harmony with the land.
The last generation of traditional hunters is speaking, urging us to remember their place in Nigeria’s story before the forest falls silent. Their legacy is not just about the past—it could shape a future where culture and conservation walk hand in hand.
For Nigeria, losing its traditional hunters would mean losing a vital link to its roots and the wisdom of the wild. It is a call to action: to preserve this knowledge, to honour these guardians, and to ensure that Nigeria’s forests—and their stories—live on.
