Myles Turner

Born, in northern England

Father settled in Kenya

In 1947, my first job as a young Game Ranger was to placate the irate farmers of Nanyuki, who were bombarding the Game Department with telegrams about the hyenas that were nightly disembowelling their pedigree cattle.

Alan's work with the Denises was interrupted one day by a zebra-striped Dornier aircraft that circled the Serengeti headquarters and landed next to the game warden's house. The plane was piloted by Bernhard and Michael Grzimek. a father-and-son team from Frankfurt. Germany. They wanted to record the movements of the herds of wildebeest and zebra over the course of a year, in hopes that the legal boundaries of the park would one day contain their migration. The first order of business was to hire a cameraman. Did the game warden happen to know one? Myles Turner, a man of fierce loyalties, made it clear that they could do no better than Alan Root, who happened to be filming nearby. Before Alan had even heard of the arrangement. Myles had successfully negotiated his contract.

The film they made with Alan was called ‘Serengeti Shall not die’. Of the few collaborations Alan has made, he can remember none so pleasant. He and Michael were much alike, not only in age. but in their approach to the game. They both were curious about the complex set of debts and promises that connect predators and prey: they both were consumed by the extravagance of life on these plains: and both of them were comics and daredevils.

The fun came to an end one day when Michael, flying alone, struck a vulture in midflight. With the ailerons and flaps jammed, the plane went into a dive. Michael was buried on the lip of the Ngorongoro Crater and the epitaph on his gravestone is simple: "Michael Grzimck - 11.4.1934 to 10.1.1959. He gave all he possessed for the wild animals of Africa, including his life."

Turner, Myles . . . . went to Tanganyika in 1956 to be Warden in charge of the Western Serengeti. It would be his third career, preceded by one as a game control officer in Kenya and another as a professional hunter.

appointed Warden in Charge of Western Section of Serengeti, based at Banagi

I had just arrived at Banagi in November 1956 ....

One of my first safaris was to accompany the Professor [Pearsall] on his surveys in the Western Corridor. His safari was conducted by Don Ker, the well-known professional Hunter, and always one of the Serengeti’s most ardent supporters. Also on this safari were Hugh Elliott (later Sir Hugh), Dr. P.J Greenway the eminent East African botanical expert, and G.H. Swynnerton, Chief Game Warden of Tanganyika.

as a result of these changes [resulting from the Committee of Enquiry] we moved to Seronera, the new headquarters of the Serengeti. After nearly three decades of use Banagi was virtually abandoned and allowed to fall into disrepair.

I collected the man’s skull [a poacher killed and mutilated by a buffalo] which was miraculously undamaged, and put it up in my office at Seronera with the following inscription underneath:

‘This poacher was killed by a buffalo in the Tabora section.

UMMO COMEVOI SARETA COME NOI,’

which might be translated

‘We were once like you and you shall be like us.’

Glen [Cottar] was sent to the Prince of Wales boarding school (in schoolboy slang the "Prince-O," but also known as the "Cabbage Patch" on account of a steady diet of that vegetable) back in Nairobi. His classmates included boys who would become white hunters - John Sutton, Dave Williams, John Dugmore, as well as future game wardens Brian Nicholson of the Tanganyika Game Department, Myles Turner of the Serengeti national park, and Peter Jenkins and Bill Woodley of Kenya national parks, along with Frank Poppleton of Uganda national parks.

Soon afterward Glen joined the new firm of White Hunters (Africa) Ltd., headed by David Lunan. At the time White Hunters was managed by Colonel Brett, formerly manager of Safariland Ltd. Brett left White Hunters (Africa) Ltd. under a cloud and was replaced by Colonel Robert Caulfield. In 1960, after Glen Cottar was fully licensed, he married vivacious Pat Schofleld, the daughter of English settlers from the Great Rift Valley town of Nakuru. Cottar, always an optimist, also made the big step of going it alone as an independent safari outfitter.

. . . . . .

Now Cottar had the freedom to take his safaris wherever he pleased, into distant and little-known country. He was the first hunter to penetrate the vast Moyowosi-Njingwe swamps in Tanzania on foot, long before the era of amphibious vehicles. He and his client came out of the swamps with a sitatunga antelope bearing record-class horns. The more remote and unknown a region happened to be, the greater its attraction for Glen Cottar. The time and expense of such explorations mattered little to Glen. He surveyed Tanzania's almost unknown Lukwati and Katavi areas, and cut many hundreds of miles of primitive tracks through featureless miombo woodlands. His rewards were the unspoiled landscape, unmarred by car tracks and, in many cases, even a human footprint. His clients reaped the benefits of these "reccies" by collecting outstanding trophies.

Myles brought back the poacher’s skull and it remained on view in his office, with the legend:

‘I have been where you are now,

And you will be where I have gone.’

One day my father said, “We’re going down to remove the Masai from Moru Kopjes with Miles Turner and Gordon Pullman.” The villagers had been given notice to leave but were still there when the deadline date arrived. Serengeti had already become a National Park and was being extended to include more of the migration routes. If you look carefully at some of the big rocks at Moru, you’ll see where the manyattas were. On the leeward side of most big kopjes in the Moru area, there are remains of rather large circular stones and rocks which I believe are remains of the villages, unless they’re the remains of the Stone Bowl people before, or both.

I remember that day as hell and bloody fury – flames and smoke and dust, confusion, animals and people, shouting and shooting. The smoke and the burning – the horror of it all. The villages were torched and the dogs were shot. One dog was breathing through a great bleeding hole in its neck. The women and children were rounded up into trucks. Hundreds of cattle and other livestock were herded away by the young warriors and middle-aged men towards the east into part of Hidden Valley, past the springs at the eastern end and from there south east to the top end of Ndutu/Olduvai gorge, and down across the Lake Lagarja beaches. I know it was Lagarja because I remember seeing the flamingos. I think after that they were resettled in the Crater Highlands.

I remember the two Bedford trucks they used. They were the ones used on the special East African Airways Sunday excursion package from Eastleigh Airport in Nairobi, bringing in weekenders for fun. The packages cost 180/- for the return DC3 flight, morning and afternoon game drives and lunch served by an EAA stewardess somewhere out in the bush. They arrived at about 8.30 in the morning and left Seronera at about 4.30. It was hugely popular. No problem with Customs and Immigration – we all just moved between the countries as we pleased then.

The tourists had their game drives in the Bedfords and one Land Rover, guided by my father, Gordon Pullman, Myles Turner or Gordon Harvey.

the Serengeti Park Warden

Serengeti National Park Warden

Dr Hugh Lamprey, Director of the SRI from 1966 to 1972, remembers Myles from those days with affection and admiration, and the two men remained firm friends to the end. Some of the work carried out at the SRI required a number of animals to be shot for research - an idea that was anathema to Myles, who believed that all game in a National Park should be sacrosanct.

‘Myles was the man who saw the path of decency.’ says Lamprey. ‘He was the conscience of the Serengeti, and he hated to see it compromised in the name of science. ..... Myles never mixed freely with the scientists and this deprived him of the opportunity of reconciling the polarised views of the Wardens and the researchers on Parks management. On the whole he was prematurely dismissive of the work of the researcher.’

'After five months, Myles Turner, the ranger boss who drove the Land Rover field force one, discovered that I spoke English and Kiswahili and could help him to translate memoranda from the head office at Arusha or other government agencies. Although he was born and raised in Kenya and was a former hunter turned game warden, he spoke Kiswahili but could not write it, like most Kenyan cowboys. He spoke kitchen Kiswahili with an imperious attitude; he could say phrases such as kuja hapa (come here), wewe naseme nini? (what did you say?), na wewe mukora tu (you hoodlam), and his favourite kai ya Mungu (God's truth), a phrase many rangers liked him for. Such simplistic phrases were not very practical in the Tanzanian bureaucracy. Kiswahili is Tanzania's national language and the people speak it well.

I had to salute Myles Turner whenever he can into the office, as did all the rangers, and he loved it. He knew I did not like to, but I had to play the game. As long as I did, my resentment did not bother him a bit. ...

Myles Turner, like most colonial whites, respected the Maasai more than other Africans. Perhaps he found the blunt Maasai sincerity and of course bravery admirable. ...'

Myles’ Land Rover was packed with gear of all descriptions and a truck carried tents for each of us and two tents for the staff, as well as stoves, stores and water. Like most British East Africans, Myles is extremely thorough in his safari preparations, and saw nothing strange at all at having seven pairs of hands to help him on a short trip of three days - what was strange to him was my discomfort. Not that I let it bother me for long. While the tents went up, I watched white clouds cross the black thunderhead behind Naisera lightening came, and a drum of rain on the hard ground across the valley. On the taut skin of Africa rain can be heard two miles away.

In 1972, swept along in the tide of Africanization, Miles Turner handed over charge of the Serengeti field force to a citizen warden

In early 1972 I relinquished command of the Serengeti Field Force, and handed over to a citizen Warden. For a few months more I stayed on in an advisory capacity before finally leaving for my new posting in the Arusha National Park. Since I left, 33 non-citizen Rangers and NCO’s of the Field Force have been replaced by citizens, leaving a gap in experience which will be hard to fill.

transferred to Arusha National Park

tendered resignation to the Board of Trustees, but asked to serve for another two years in another Park.

Left Momella [and Tanzania], and moved to Kenya

moved to Nyika National Park, Malawi

When he reached the age of sixty, he was retired by the British Government, and we returned to our home in Kenya. ... and Myles was offered a job in the Masai Mara Game Reserve.

Dies

Sadly, Myles died before this book was published. Myles was strong, wiry and tough to the end, and he knew nothing of the heart attack that killed him painlessly in his 63rd year....

A number of our favourite camp sites along the Mara River are visible from the square-topped hill on which his stone memorial is place, under a fig tree. The bronze plaque bears a simple inscription:

Myles Turner 1921 - 1984

In remembrance of a life dedicated to the wildlife of Africa

The sudden and untimely death of Myles Turner in Kenya’s Masai Mara Game Reserve on 27 March 1984 deprived Africa of one of the legendary figures of wildlife conservation.