Millionaire game hunter killed by same buffalo he was stalking

The sudden death of Texas real estate magnate and avid trophy hunter Asher Watkins in South Africa has struck a chord far beyond the hunting world. Killed by a Cape buffalo he had been tracking, his story has been met with a mix of shock, grief, and fierce debate. To some, it is a tragic reminder of the dangers faced by hunters who pursue some of the world’s most formidable animals. To others, it is a moment heavy with symbolism—an example of nature striking back against a pastime many view as outdated and cruel.

As details of the incident emerged, Watkins’ death became more than just a personal tragedy. It tapped into ongoing global conversations about the ethics of trophy hunting, the conservation claims that surround it, and the cultural fascination with pursuing dangerous game. It also exposed the tensions between those who honor hunting as a tradition and those who see it as a moral failing in an age where respect for wildlife has never been more urgent.

The Fatal Encounter in South Africa

During a hunting expedition in South Africa, Texas real estate magnate and trophy hunter Asher Watkins was killed by a Cape buffalo—the very animal he had been stalking. According to Coenraad Vermaak Safaris, the company leading the trip, the incident was “sudden and unprovoked.” Watkins was accompanied by a professional hunter and a tracker at the time, but the charge from the large, horned animal was swift and fatal. The company described the loss as devastating, calling Watkins and his family “long-standing friends” who had been closely tied to their operations.

The Cape buffalo holds a notorious reputation as one of Africa’s most dangerous animals to hunt. With immense strength, sharp horns, and a tendency to charge when cornered, they are responsible for multiple injuries and fatalities among hunters each year. Coenraad Vermaak Safaris described them as the “most dangerous animal to pursue in Africa, let alone the world,” noting that this reputation also makes them one of the most sought-after trophies in the big game hunting world. For enthusiasts like Watkins, who was an avid outdoorsman with a lifelong passion for hunting and fishing, pursuing such game represented both challenge and prestige. Yet this very pursuit underscores the unpredictability of hunting such formidable animals, even under professional guidance.

The tragedy quickly became a flashpoint far beyond the hunting community. Animal rights groups, including PETA, condemned the practice of trophy hunting and highlighted the irony of a hunter losing his life to the very creature he aimed to kill, framing it as an act of self-defense by the buffalo. Online reactions ranged from condolences for Watkins’ family to sharp critiques of the industry itself, with some voices celebrating the buffalo’s retaliation. Despite the polarized responses, those closest to Watkins remembered him foremost as a respected businessman and devoted family man. He led Watkins Ranch Group, a brokerage managing multimillion-dollar properties across Texas, Colorado, and Arkansas, and is survived by his mother, daughter, brother, and stepfather, all now grieving a loss that has reverberated far beyond their family circle.

Trophy Hunting and Its Controversies

Watkins’ death has reignited a debate that surfaces whenever tragedies of this nature occur: the ethics of trophy hunting. Supporters of the practice often argue that it sustains local economies, funds conservation projects, and provides jobs in rural communities where opportunities are scarce. In parts of southern Africa, revenues from trophy hunting“ permits are said to contribute to anti-poaching programs and wildlife management efforts, an argument that has kept the practice legal in many regions despite ongoing protests. Advocates frequently frame it as a tool for wildlife population control and a means of giving economic value to animals, thereby incentivizing their protection.

However, opponents argue that such reasoning fails to address the moral dimension of killing animals for sport. Organizations like PETA highlight the inherent cruelty of reducing sentient beings to wall-mounted trophies, stressing that conservation efforts should not depend on bloodshed. The backlash often intensifies when high-profile hunts involve iconic or endangered species, as seen in global outrage following the death of Cecil the lion in Zimbabwe in 2015. Watkins’ case has struck a similar chord, with activists pointing out that the buffalo’s aggression may not have been unprovoked but rather a natural response to being pursued. For these critics, the narrative is not one of misfortune but of justice, underscoring the idea that animals are not passive participants in human leisure pursuits.

At the heart of this debate lies a clash between two worldviews: one that views hunting as a traditional, even honorable pursuit, and another that sees it as an outdated and destructive practice. While trophy hunting continues to attract wealthy enthusiasts from around the globe, opposition to it has grown louder in recent years, fueled by social media where criticism can spread rapidly and galvanize movements. Watkins’ death, tragic in its personal dimension, has thus become another moment where the ethics of this practice are interrogated publicly, highlighting the growing tension between cultural tradition, economic incentives, and animal rights.

The Allure and Risks of Dangerous Game Hunting

Despite its critics, the pursuit of dangerous game remains a defining ambition for many hunters. Animals such as lions, leopards, elephants, and Cape buffalo form what is often called the “Big Five,” a term rooted in colonial-era hunting culture that referred to the most challenging and perilous animals to track on foot. For hunters like Watkins, the draw lies not only in the physical trophy but also in the prestige associated with overcoming such formidable challenges. The notion of “earning” a kill against an animal that poses a genuine threat has long been romanticized in certain circles, blending ideas of bravery, skill, and conquest.

Yet the danger is not abstract. Cape buffalo in particular are infamous for their unpredictability. Known to double back on hunters or charge at the slightest provocation, they have earned the nickname “the Black Death” in some hunting communities. Each year, reports of hunters injured or killed underscore the risks, reminding even experienced outdoorsmen that preparation and skill cannot fully guard against the power of these animals. Watkins’ death is a stark reminder of the thin line between hunter and hunted, where the balance of control can shift in an instant.

This dynamic—of human ambition colliding with animal instinct—has made dangerous game hunting one of the most symbolically charged aspects of the broader hunting debate. Supporters argue that facing such risks embodies a raw form of engagement with nature, a pursuit that tests courage in a way modern life rarely does. Critics counter that the very need for risk and conquest highlights the egotism at the heart of trophy hunting, reducing wild animals to instruments of human vanity. Watkins’ fatal encounter illustrates both sides of this paradox: a moment of personal passion that, in the broader public sphere, is recast as emblematic of humanity’s fraught relationship with wildlife.

Conservation and Economic Arguments

Much of the justification for trophy hunting hinges on its perceived contributions to conservation and local economies. Proponents cite examples where hunting fees—often reaching tens of thousands of dollars per animal—are channeled into wildlife reserves, habitat protection, and community development. In countries like Namibia and Zimbabwe, governments have argued that hunting revenues provide critical funding for rural communities and help deter illegal poaching by giving animals legitimate economic value. Advocates suggest that without such incentives, wildlife populations could be even more vulnerable to habitat loss and exploitation.

Yet these claims remain contested. Critics argue that the actual economic benefits are often overstated and unevenly distributed. A 2013 study by the organization Economists at Large found that only about 3% of trophy hunting revenue reached local communities in African countries where it is practiced, raising questions about who truly benefits. Conservationists also note that the killing of large, healthy animals can undermine population genetics and disrupt ecosystems, particularly when key individuals like dominant males are removed. Alternative models, such as ecotourism and photographic safaris, are increasingly highlighted as more sustainable ways to generate income while preserving wildlife.

Watkins’ death has brought these conflicting perspectives back into focus, reminding observers that debates about trophy hunting are not solely about morality but also about economics and ecological strategy. The question remains whether the conservation gains touted by advocates can ever truly justify the deliberate killing of animals, particularly when less destructive alternatives exist. As African governments weigh policy decisions under global scrutiny, each high-profile incident adds pressure to reevaluate the long-term viability of trophy hunting as a conservation tool.

An Uneasy Mirror of Human-Nature Relations

At its core, the story of Asher Watkins’ death reflects more than a single tragedy—it underscores the uneasy relationship between humans and the natural world. Hunting has historically been a way for people to assert dominance over nature, a practice rooted in survival that gradually shifted toward recreation and prestige. Today, when hunting is no longer necessary for sustenance in most societies, its continuation as a luxury pastime raises complex questions about humanity’s values and responsibilities. Watkins’ encounter with the Cape buffalo embodies the contradictions of this modern dynamic: the pursuit of control over an animal that ultimately reclaimed its own agency.

This incident also serves as a symbolic moment of reckoning. While some interpret the buffalo’s charge as an accident of instinct, others see it as a form of poetic justice, a reversal of roles that forces reflection on what it means to treat wild creatures as adversaries or trophies. In an age of climate crisis, biodiversity loss, and growing awareness of animal sentience, such episodes sharpen the moral stakes of decisions once considered private leisure. The death of a prominent hunter on African soil is not just news; it becomes a cultural flashpoint, amplifying conversations about how humanity interacts with the planet’s most powerful species.

Toward a More Ethical Relationship with Wildlife

The death of Asher Watkins will inevitably be remembered both as a personal tragedy and as a symbolic story about the risks and consequences of trophy hunting. For his family and friends, it marks the sudden loss of a loved one who was both a businessman and an outdoorsman. For the broader public, it poses uncomfortable questions about whether the pursuit of prestige and adrenaline can ever justify the killing of wild animals. As long as trophy hunting continues, so too will the debate over its morality, its economics, and its cultural significance.

If anything, this incident highlights the urgency of reevaluating humanity’s relationship with nature. Rather than approaching wildlife as adversaries to be conquered, there is a growing call to embrace practices that foster coexistence and respect—whether through ecotourism, conservation-based education, or simply the act of leaving animals undisturbed in their habitats. The Cape buffalo’s fatal charge is a reminder that the natural world is not a stage for human dominance but a complex, dynamic system in which humans are participants, not rulers. Moving forward, the challenge lies in ensuring that this recognition translates into choices that honor both human lives and the creatures with whom we share the planet.