"In the Thick"
Oil on panel, 16x20"
Price on request

The dashing Austrian, Fritz Schindelar, atop his impressive white polo pony, was about to ride into the history books, one last time. The mysterious Fritz was renowned for his daring and some of his exploits had become legendary. Known for his spotless white breaches, waxed moustache and shiny boots, he was a womanizer who had become the epitome of the name, “white hunter.” He had been prepared to take risks few other hunters dared to take and somehow came through unscathed. But on this day his luck would run out.

Paul Rainey had been invited to British East Africa in 1912 by Lord Delamere to help rid the Colony of man-eating lions. The settlers were constantly at odds with marauding lions, and visitors to the Colony were encouraged to bag as many as they could. Paul Rainey, with the help of E.R. M. Shelley, had brought over packs of hunting dogs, some bear hounds, some mongrel fighting dogs and even fox hounds from America. Rainey’s safari had bagged more lions than any other but his activities were now being criticized for being unsportsmanlike. The lions would be brought to bay by the dogs, and then ,while their attention was taken by the snarling and yapping, the hunters would pick them off with ease and without risk.

Throughout his long safari, Rainey had wanted some moving pictures of a charging lion coming towards his hand-cranked camera. The photographer, J.C. Hemment, had attempted to get some footage for Rainey and would have been killed in the process if Alan Black hadn’t stepped in and shot the charging lion at Hemment’s feet. Rainey had asked most of the top hunters at that time to help him in this endeavor. They all thought it to be foolhardy and wanted nothing to do with the idea, having recognized the folly. But Fritz Schindelar, true to form, agreed to help him.

Rainey must have been flushed with success when he returned to Naivasha having bagged some twelve lions in almost as many days using his dogs. Indeed, he would go on to kill more in one year than Selous did in his lifetime. He was now going to attempt his filming and had hired Schindelar to help.

Rainey was set up with his camera on some high ground. A lion had been driven from cover and was temporarily brought to bay by the dogs. But the lion broke free from the circle of dogs and headed for more cover. The gallant Fritz gave chase to the lion in the hope of guiding it back towards Rainey and his camera. Fritz followed close behind the lion as it headed into even deeper cover. After some time, he could no longer see the lion; but he roughly knew its whereabouts. He rode near to its presumed location in the hope of drawing it out, but after several passes, this wasn’t working. So he drew his rifle and went cautiously further into the thick bush; he was confident his well-schooled pony would be able to turn fast and get up to speed should the lion charge. But the lion was closer and faster than he expected. It sprang from cover with an unbelievable burst of speed, and as Fritz turned his mount, the lion swung and clawed its haunches, knocking it to the ground. Schindelar was thrown from the pony but miraculously landed on his feet still holding his double rifle. The lion was only a few paces distant and coming on fast; Schindelar aimed and fired as quickly as possible but he missed. The lion grabbed him by the stomach and in anger shook the hapless hunter like a rag doll before casting him to the ground, mortally wounded.

Unfortunately, this day, Fritz Schindelar assumes the dubious distinction of becoming the first to die as a result of making a film.