Imperial rifles and mountains of Chitral: The silence surrounding Markhor hunting in colonial era
CHITRAL (APP): In the far north of Pakistan, where the Hindu Kush rises in stern silence and snow valleys fold into deep, wind-carved gorges, lies Chitral known as much for its staggering natural beauty as for its living history.
For generations, Chitral has drawn attention for three defining features namely Trichmir mountain, vibrant traditions of the Kalash valleys and the towering presence of the Markhor, Pakistan’s national animal.
These tall mountains here are not merely geography rather they are witnesses. They have seen empires pass, rifles raised, and trophies carried down treacherous slopes in Chitral. Within these landscapes and mountains passes lied a unique but ancient story that remains only partially told to world.
Among the most elusive inhabitants of these heights is the Markhor, a wild goat distinguished by its majestic spiral horns and uncanny ability to scale sheer cliffs.
During the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, when the North-West Frontier formed part of British India, hunting was far more than recreation. It was ritual. It was proof of masculinity and was imperial theatre.
According to Dr. Muhammad Mumtaz Malik, former Chief Conservator of the Wildlife Department in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, colonial hunting expeditions were deeply symbolic and officers of the British civil and military establishment ventured into remote valleys not merely to shoot game, but to demonstrate endurance, courage, and dominance over terrain and beast alike.
British hunting memoirs described Markhor as cunning, alert, and extraordinarily difficult to pursue. Its sharp senses and preference for near-vertical terrain turned every expedition into a trial of stamina and nerve. To bring one down was to secure more than a trophy rather it was to secure status.
Yet while hunting in Kashmir and Gilgit found documentation in administrative records and sporting journals, Chitral remains comparatively silent.
Within this silence, he said a faint trace emerges was the name Major Reilly and a handful of aging photographs circulating in private collections and digital archives, which depict what appears to be a Markhor hunt in the Gahirat Gol area of Chitral around 1918–1919.
The images show a British officer posed beside a fallen Markhor, accompanied by local attendants. But beyond these visual fragments, official confirmation is scarce.
British administrative records from 1914 to 1918 were primarily preoccupied with frontier security and geopolitical concerns during the First World War.
Individual hunting excursions, unless politically significant, often went unrecorded.
Dr. Malik suggests another possibility that the animal may have been hunted by the Mehtar who was the ruler of the princely State of Chitral with the young man in the photograph perhaps serving as a household attendant.
However, the regimental logs, military registers, or family archives, history revealed about its hunting during colonial era.
For centuries, hunting the Markhor formed part of the cultural fabric of northern Pakistan. Among local tribes, it symbolized skill, survival, and bravery.
But by the late twentieth century, uncontrolled hunting and widespread poaching decreased the population of national animal and Markhor teetered on the brink of extinction.
Dr Mumtaz said that Pakistan is home to five subspecies Astore, Kashmir, Kabul, Suleiman, and Bukharan each adapted to distinct mountain ecosystems across Gilgit-Baltistan, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, and Balochistan.
The turning point came in 1990, when Pakistan launched a community-based trophy hunting programme for conservation of Markhor. The concept was to regulate hunting strictly, limit it to a few old, non-breeding males, and channel the majority of revenue to local communities.
Today, under provincial wildlife management, permits are auctioned annually. Markhor hunting is among the world’s most expensive trophy pursuits in Pakistan.
In Lower Chitral’s Tushi-Shasha conservancy, an American hunter secured a permit last year for US$243,000.
Divisional Forest Officer Farooq Nabi confirmed that 80 percent of permit revenue goes directly to local communities by funding schools, clinics, roads, and conservation initiatives and the remaining 20 percent supports wildlife management.
Where once villagers hunted illegally for survival or prestige, they now guard the animal fiercely.
The results have been measurable and in 2015, the International Union for Conservation of Nature reclassified the Markhor from Endangered to Near Threatened, citing population recovery driven in part by community conservation models.
The hunting season now runs from November to mid-April, with December marking peak rutting season, when males descend slightly from high ridges and are most visible.
Unlike the meticulously archived hunting narratives of Kashmir and Gilgit, Chitral’s Mrkhor story lingers in personal albums and oral memory that need digital projection.
What was once an emblem of imperial conquest has become a symbol of local stewardship. The rifle that once asserted dominance now, paradoxically, funds preservation.
For international hunters, securing a Markhor remains the pinnacle of big-game achievement. For Pakistan, it represents a rare conservation success and for the communities of Chitral, it is no longer just wildlife but is identity and livelihood.
