By Tendai Makaripe
Cecil wasn’t a man.
He was a famed Hwange lion, collared for research by Oxford University’s Wildlife Conservation Research Unit.
In July 2015, he was allegedly lured beyond the park boundary, where American dentist Walter Palmer shot him with a bow.
Wounded, the pride leader struggled for hours before a second shot ended his life.
He was decapitated and skinned while the GPS collar still blinked.
Years later, Cecil’s son Xanda was shot just outside the same park in the Ngamo Forest hunting area.
Early this year, another collared male, Blondie, was reportedly baited from a photographic concession and killed in the Gwaai and Sikumi Forests.
He was in his prime and led a pride with young cubs.
Biologists warn that the removal of such males often triggers infanticide by incoming rivals.
Blondie’s death, like Cecil’s and Xanda’s, exposes a legal vacuum.
Once a GPS‑collared research lion steps over Hwange’s boundary, Zimbabwean law offers no special shield: there is no statutory buffer zone, no explicit ban on baiting near the edge and no categorical exclusion of collared animals from trophy eligibility.
Caroline Washaya‑Moyo, a conservationist and former ZimParks spokesperson, says the losses cut deeper than sentiment.
“Blondie’s death not only disrupted the pride he led, which included females and ten cubs, but also resulted in the loss of valuable scientific data,” she said.
“These collars are not ornaments. They are the backbone of how we understand movements, conflict hotspots and pride dynamics.”
A trail of bodies and numbers
WildCRU’s research shows that humans, not nature, cause most lion deaths around Hwange.
A long-term Oxford study tracking 84 collared lions led by researcher Andrew Loveridge found that human activities were responsible for 88 percent of male and 67 percent of female mortality.
Records suggest more than 130 collared lions were shot in Zimbabwe between 2006 and 2015.
Such numbers undermine claims that hunters target only surplus, non-breeding males.
When a dominant lion is killed, researchers say, prides fracture and cubs die.
Yet Zimbabwe’s rules rely largely on voluntary restraint.
The Parks and Wildlife Act sets stiff penalties for illegal hunting inside national parks, and rhinos receive extra protection.
But there is no statutory instrument creating a buffer around Hwange or giving extra protection to research lions.
Section 33 of the Animal Health Act covers disease control, not the shielding of study animals.
In practice, operators with valid quotas can legally shoot a collared lion the moment it steps out of the park.
Law’s blind spot
Zimbabwe’s hunting regulations recommend that lions be at least six years old and not leading prides with cubs, but these guidelines are advisory.
ZimParks has repeatedly said that research collars do not exempt lions from legal hunting.
“The permit becomes a shield when the rules are silent,” said wildlife‑law researcher Nature Masakure.
“If the state wants collared animals protected, that must be explicit.”
Not all officials oppose change.
A senior director in the Ministry of Environment, speaking anonymously because he is not authorised to comment, acknowledged that the law lags.
“Hunting revenue contributes to conservation and communities. We recognise that research animals are important, but a collar alone does not confer legal status. Creating exemptions would require amending the Parks and Wildlife Act and associated regulations,” he said.
Oliver Mutasa, an environmental scientist and former legislator, says policymakers underestimate the non-consumptive value of lions.
“We keep hearing that hunting pays for conservation,” he said.
“But a single pride male like Blondie can anchor tourism for years. When he dies, lodges lose bookings and communities lose jobs.”
Consequences on the ground
Guides who know these animals personally describe the cost. Beks Ndlovu, a Hwange guide and the founder of African Bush Camps, says removing prime males collapses entire social systems.
“It triggers a cruel cascade: cubs are killed by incoming males, gene pools shrink, social structures collapse,” he said. The killing of Blondie, he added, shows how vulnerable the landscape remains.
The economic fallout extends beyond emotion.
Research shows that Zimbabwe issues roughly 100 lion hunting quotas a year, mostly to foreign hunters who pay tens of thousands of dollars. Photographic tourism employs far more people and generates income that lasts longer than a single trophy.
Public sentiment is shifting: World Animal Protection found that 85 percent of people living near South Africa’s Kruger National Park support a lion protection fee, and more than 80 percent of international tourists would pay such a fee.
Lodge owners say many guests come specifically to see the famous collared lions.
When they disappear, bookings evaporate.
Science, sentience and public duty
Protecting research lions is not just sentimental – it is scientific. Advocate Ever Chinoda, the founder and Director of Speak Out For Animals notes that collared animals generate data on movement patterns, conflict hotspots and population health.
“Research animals represent an irreplaceable resource for both biodiversity and scientific advancement,” she said.
Professor Never Muboko, director of scientific services at ZimParks, adds that ethics point toward clearer rules: “For ethical or moral reasons, a collared animal may receive special attention knowing that someone has research interests in it,” he said.
Comparative law suggests those rules are achievable.
The European Union recognises animals as sentient and promotes the “Five Freedoms,” while research directives in the United States and Britain license facilities and personnel.
Zimbabwe lacks such frameworks, yet Section 73 of its Constitution obliges the state to protect the environment.
“Our environmental rights mean nothing if we allow known research animals to be killed at the park edge,” Masakure said.
The way forward
Researchers have long urged the government to establish a five-kilometre no-hunting buffer along Hwange’s unfenced boundary.
Such a zone would cover the habitual cross-boundary movements of pride males and curb baiting near the border.
After Xanda’s death and again following Blondie’s, scientists proposed three core changes: a statutory buffer, a strict ban on baiting within it and permit conditions that categorically exclude collared animals from eligibility.
They also want a live permit‑and‑collar registry so licensing officers can check whether an animal is off limits.
“General permits should never swallow years of fieldwork,” said Panashe Chirume, a conservation researcher.
“When a collar goes dark because of a legal hunt, the public sees the collar as meaningless. That is a failure of policy, not just a tragedy in the bush.”
Environmental law scholars say those reforms need legal hooks.
The minister responsible for wildlife could issue a statutory instrument under the Parks and Wildlife Act to create a buffer and declare collared research animals off limits.
Models exist: Tanzania enforces a six-year minimum age for hunted lions and penalises younger kills, while Mozambique’s Niassa Reserve uses a points-based quota system.
Zimbabwe debated a six-year rule in 2013 but never enshrined it. Mutasa says there is no excuse for delay: “The law must say that if a lion wears a collar or is part of a registered study, it is off limits. We did this for rhinos; we can do it for lions.”
A line only humans see
What happens at Hwange’s edge carries a wider weight.
After Cecil’s death, the United States, the European Union and airlines tightened or banned lion trophy imports.
These moves do not rewrite Zimbabwean law, but they shape demand and the country’s reputation.
“Ten years on from Cecil the lion, have we learned nothing?” asked World Animal Protection chief executive Tricia Croasdell.
Blondie’s collar did not protect him.
Hwange’s lions do not recognise property lines, and neither do poachers or baits.
Until Zimbabwe enacts a buffer, bans baiting near park edges, and makes collared research animals ineligible for hunting, its most famous lions will remain vulnerable whenever they cross a line that only people can see.
