Dagga Boys is the name given to old male buffalo that have left the breeding herd to spend their final days alone or in small groups.

The name is derived from the behaviour of the ... The group of old male buffalos that lounged around the camp provided many moments of anxiety for me at night when we had to walk home through a 30m path of palms and scrub, as invariably the group would be lying up somewhere on route. We would always scan the bush with our flashlight to see exactly where they were before climbing down the stairs onto the path to our house.
If we could not see them we would be extra cautious on the path as often they would be in the thickest part of the bush. The times that they were on the path Leigh would lob a missile, usually a flimsy stick, into the bush and they would move off far enough for us to pass by. Some nights they simply refused to budge and we had to clamber down the wooden support poles further down the walkway. As this was in the dark there was no grace needed, only the most practical way down. I once walked over to the spot during the day and was amazed that I was able to accomplish such a feat. There was simply no ways I would have been able to do it in the day time.
One particularly memorable night we had been listening to the lions chasing the buffalo through the camp - which made the buffalo very skittish. When the guests went to bed and we had closed up the camp we could still hear the buffalo crashing backwards and forwards through the bushes - in the area of our house. It was obvious that the lions were still about. I suggested that we radio a guide to bring a vehicle to drive us to our house but Leigh wanted to check out the lay of the land first.After some time of listening and searching the area with the flashlight he deemed it safe to head to the house. Avoiding the path through the bush, we clambered down the walkway support and sped along the edge of the floodplain and after what seemed like an age we made it to our house. We listened long into the night as the lions and buffalos fought a running battle around our house. As a guide of more than ten years in Botswana, I trusted my husband in the bush completely, but that night I have to admit to silently questioning his judgement.
By Leigh Kemp