Casper Hunter Has Chased Lions, Rhinos, Elephants & Crocodiles Around The World

Some people collect souvenirs.

Rick Bonander collected adventures.

The 74-year-old Casper businessman has spent a lifetime following whatever lay beyond the next ridge, whether that meant getting lost in the Montana mountains as a boy, building one of Wyoming's most successful pipe companies, or tracking elephants, lions and Marco Polo sheep across six continents.

The adventures now surround him.

Bonander is difficult to miss. Tall and broad-shouldered with a barrel chest, bright blue eyes and a neatly trimmed white mustache, he greets visitors with an easy smile and the confidence of someone who's seen enough of the world to know that almost everything eventually becomes a good story.

He settles into a hand-carved chair as thousands of glass eyes stare back from every direction.

Outside his home's picture windows, Wyoming stretches toward the horizon.

Inside, a crocodile lounges across the stone floor on a wooden peg leg Bonander built after discovering the reptile had lost one of its own. A leopard crouches from an upper ledge. A rhinoceros stands nearby. Cape buffalo from Zimbabwe and antelope from Africa fill every corner.

Elephant feet have become leather-covered stools. 

"My trophy room doesn't mean anything to anybody else," he said. "But to me, I could sit out here with a drink and just daydream about each and every animal and the hunt. Every one of them I can replay in my mind."

For Bonander, the room isn't about what he killed.

It's about where life took him.

Adventure Calls

Bonander was raised to wander. 

Growing up in Bozeman, Montana, he spent weekends hunting, fishing and camping with his two younger brothers. He shot his first deer at 8 years old and, by 14, was hunting on his own.

One snowy afternoon, after following a wounded deer farther than he realized, he became hopelessly lost in the Montana backcountry. Darkness settled in. Panic followed.

Then he remembered his father's advice: Sit down. Think. Figure out where you are. 

He found his bearings and walked himself home, carrying a lesson that would stay with him for the rest of his life.

That same willingness to venture into the unknown has followed him since. 

After earning a construction engineering degree from Montana State University and serving as a military police dog handler at a nuclear missile site in Washington, Bonander moved to Casper.

Five years later, he gambled on himself.

In 1982, armed with just $260 and a willingness to outwork everyone around him, he started Intermountain Pipe. Delivering casing to drilling rigs around the clock, he built what would become one of Wyoming's premier oilfield pipe companies.

His son now runs much of the business, but Bonander still comes to the office most days.

Fifty years of experience, he says, is hard to replace.

Building a successful company satisfied the engineer in him, but it never quieted the explorer.

For years, he devoured books about Africa before finally deciding to take "just one" safari.

"I thought I'd get it out of my system," he said.

Instead, he was planning the next trip before the airplane carrying him home had even landed. He returned to Africa more than 30 times. 

Over three decades, Bonander has hunted in countries stretching from Zimbabwe and Botswana to Tajikistan, Australia, Argentina, Scotland, Croatia and New Zealand.

What keeps drawing him back?

"The adventure," he said. "Getting to see new people, new places, new things."

Killer Elephant 

Bonander never planned to hunt an elephant.

In 2002, he traveled to Zimbabwe hoping to pursue Cape buffalo and plains game when camp received word that a villager had been killed by a rogue bull elephant.

Years earlier, someone had tried to kill the animal with an AK-47. Instead, the bullets shattered its shoulder, destroyed much of its trunk and left it crippled. The elephant survived, but according to Bonander, it had become dangerously aggressive.

"It was missing a foot and a half of its trunk, and it was mean," Bonander said. "He wanted to kill people."

Zimbabwe wildlife officials asked whether Bonander wanted to help remove the elephant.

He agreed.

Trackers followed fresh prints through thick brush until they found the bull drinking from a sandy riverbed. Carrying a borrowed century-old .470 Nitro Express double rifle, Bonander eased to within about 35 yards.

His first shot struck the elephant's shoulder.

The bull spun.

His second shot hit the opposite shoulder.

The elephant staggered another 20 yards before collapsing.

For Bonander, it underscored something many Americans don't often see: in parts of Africa, hunting is also wildlife management. Dangerous animals, crop raiders and aging bulls are sometimes removed under government authority to protect both people and habitat.

Nothing went to waste.

Villagers butchered the elephant where it fell, carrying the meat home to feed their families.

Accidental Giraffe 

By then, Bonander had hunted hippos, rhinoceroses, lions, elephants and more antelope species than he can easily count.

One animal never interested him much.

The giraffe towering over his living room today wasn't his idea, he says, but his brother's.

"Mean old giraffes," as Bonander describes them, can become a problem too. As they age, dominant bulls sometimes attack and kill younger males competing for mates, making them candidates for wildlife management hunts.

"He talked me into it." 

The brothers stood shoulder to shoulder, counted to three and squeezed the triggers together.

Later, they discovered their bullets had landed barely an inch apart.

Now the giraffe's head is neatly mounted in his house. Its feet, meanwhile, hold up an end table.

High Elevation 

Bonander has stalked lions through tall African grass, fully aware "they can hunt you back."

He has also hunted hippos and crocodiles, animals responsible for thousands of human deaths across Africa each year and capable of turning a quiet riverbank into chaos in an instant.

He's stood within yards of elephants.

But the closest he ever came to dying wasn't because of an animal.

It was because there wasn't enough air.

While pursuing Marco Polo sheep in Tajikistan's Pamir Mountains, Bonander climbed above 17,000 feet, where every breath felt thinner than the last.

"It just about killed me," he said with a laugh.

Hours of climbing over loose rock left him exhausted. Every step demanded more effort. Every breath came harder.

Coming back down proved worse.

At one point, he collapsed beside the trail, struggling to breathe as his guides urged him to keep moving.

Eventually, he reached camp carrying one of the world's most coveted mountain sheep — and a newfound respect for high altitude.

Ask him what he remembers most, though, and he'll tell you: The view. 

Jagged mountains stretched to the horizon, untouched and impossibly wild.

The hunter later celebrated with a glass of Scotch around the campfire, replaying the day's adventure beneath a sky crowded with unfamiliar stars.

Before It's Too Late

Bonander knows he has lived an uncommon life.

He also knows time is catching up.

More friends are gone than he'd like to admit.

His knees and shoulders have been replaced. His body carries the miles of mountains climbed, rivers crossed and continents explored.

Still, he swims four mornings a week.

He still reads, still plans the next trip, and wonders what adventures will come next. 

"You better live life because you don't know when it's going to end," he said. "I've made a lot of money in my business, and I've been able to go enjoy life and do trips and do things. But I went and done it. I know lots of people got money, but they don't do anything. I don't understand it."

At 74, Bonander isn't slowing down.

Australia is next.

Then another trip to South Africa.

Back home in Casper, there will eventually be another story to tell — and with any luck — another trophy. 

Kolby Fedore can be reached at kolby@cowboystatedaily.com.