On August 3, 2025, what was meant to be an adrenaline-fueled thrill-seeking safari ended in tragedy for Asher Watkins—a well-known Texas billionaire, ranching mogul, and avid trophy hunter. In a chilling and unexpected turn, Watkins was gored to death by a Cape buffalo he was stalking during a big‑game hunt in South Africa’s Limpopo province. The incident, orchestrated under the banner of elite adventure and glamorous conquest, now exposes the horrifying reality behind the trophy hunting industry.

The Ill-Fated Hunt Unravels

Asher Watkins, 52, a millionaire managing partner at Watkins Ranch Group in Dallas, was in the wilds of Limpopo, on a guided safari organized by Coenraad Vermaak Safaris, a company known for curating high-end trophy hunts. On that fateful day, Watkins, accompanied by a professional hunter and a tracker, was tracking a 1.3-ton Cape buffalo—one of Africa’s mighty “Big Five.” What was supposed to be the height of machismo and adventure turned catastrophic as the buffalo charged—and fatally struck—Watkins at approximately 35 mph. The attack was described by the hunting outfitter as “sudden and unprovoked” .

Grief, Shock, and a Deleted Tribute

The aftermath was heartbreaking. Watkins’ mother, stepfather, and brother were waiting back at the lodge, unaware of the tragedy unfolding in the bush. His ex‑wife, Courtney, bravely shared a sorrowful tribute—even though it was later removed from Facebook—lamenting how “our hearts are heavy… trying to process not just the loss, but the complexity that comes with it,” especially for their teenage daughter, Savannah .

A Glimpse into the Trophy Hunting Fantasy

This tragic incident paints trophy hunting not as sport, but as a cruel game of arrogance. Watkins, a man who reveled in sharing photos of his kills online, pursued a majestic creature for sport—only to become prey himself. There’s a grim irony here: the hunter hunted. But the real tragedy runs deeper than the shocking end of one man’s life—it’s the disturbing message it sends about our relationship with wildlife.

Cape Buffalo: Nature’s Fiercest Avenger

Cape buffalo are notorious among hunters—and for good reason. Described on safari outfitters’ websites as having “a fearsome reputation,” they’re known to be responsible for more human fatalities among hunters than any other terrestrial mammal . It’s alarming that despite such warnings, hunting of these creatures continues—and that hunters willingly chase animals known for their unpredictability and ferocity.

Trophy Hunting: A Vanity Project Concealed in Gore

Let’s be blunt: trophy hunting is about ego, vanity, and dominance—not conservation. Millions of dollars are funneled into spearheaded safaris where powerful men pay top dollar to kill rare, magnificent animals. That while these animals contribute to ecosystems, their lives are rooted in respect—until hunters flaunt their deaths as trophies.

When someone like Watkins, who clearly valued the “thrill” of the kill, meets such a brutal end, it begs a question: what are we celebrating when we hunt for sport? It’s not courage. Courage is in protection, not slaughter.

A Cruel Reality Thoroughly Exposed

This incident rips open the façade of trophy hunting:

Hypocrisy in Conservation: Many proponents claim hunting funds conservation. But how sustainable or ethical is it to support industries premised on killing?
Danger Masked as Adventure: The thrill of stalking a beast is glorified—but it can and has been fatal, as Watkins’ demise illustrates.
Emotional Cost: Watkins’ family—left behind to grapple with grief—are the human victims of a prestige-driven pastime.
Wildlife Suffering: Beyond killers and killed, the wildlife themselves endure trauma, disruption, and death—none of which a bullet can erase.

The Unanswered Question: Who Benefits from This Madness?

Is it really worth risking human life—and the sanctity of wildlife—to feed such cruel fantasies? And how many more animals must die for emboldened trophy hunters to quench their thirst for dominance?

Watkins’ death should serve as a wake-up call. Not only to rethink our entertainment choices, but also to examine the systems enabling the commodification of life. Trophy hunting isn’t protection—it’s exploitation.

In Conclusion: Let This Be the Turning Point

Asher Watkins’ tragic death isn’t just news—it’s a cautionary tale, an indictment of an industry built on vanity, and a sobering reminder that nature doesn’t submit to bullet points and bravado.

We must ask: when will society stop glamorizing death for sport? When will the bloodlust end, and true respect for wildlife begin? Let this harrowing event mark the demise of trophy hunting’s myth of grandeur—and the birth of a more humane, respectful approach to the planet’s wild inhabitants.