Hunting in Centre: Peri-urban landscapes, guinea fowl and rodents, Mossi rural memory, informal hunter groups, and weak enforcement structures
The shrinking wild around the capital’s shadow The Centre Region of Burkina Faso, home to the nation's capital Ouagadougou, is marked by rapid urban growth, expanding infrastructure, and dense settlement. Yet hidden in the margins of farmland and suburban sprawl lie patches of savannah, seasonal wetlands, and gallery forests that once defined this part of the country. The region’s flat, open terrain was historically rich in small game and birdlife, particularly in the transitional zones between cultivated land and natural bush. Today, these habitats are increasingly fragmented, but they still harbor pockets of wildlife and memories of a hunting culture fading beneath the hum of motorcycles and city lights. The role of hunting in a changing rural-urban landscape Though Centre is not widely known for trophy game or dense forest hunting, the practice of hunting remains rooted in the villages that surround the capital — particularly in the peri-urban zones of Koubri, Loumbila, and Saaba. Among the Mossi people, traditional hunting was once a respected skill passed from father to son, involving bows, snares, and locally made firearms. Hunting was often practiced during the dry season after harvest, providing bushmeat, community bonding, and moments of solitude. Today, this tradition competes with shifting livelihoods and changing values, yet many families still carry old rifles, stories, and quiet pride. What sets the Centre Region apart in Burkina’s hunting map The Centre’s uniqueness lies in its proximity to the capital and the friction between modern life and traditional practice. Unlike more remote regions, Centre's hunting is hyper-local, often unregulated, and influenced by access to markets, roads, and firearms. The region is not rich in big game, but its open grasslands and remnant woodlands make it a popular site for bird hunting and rodent trapping. Additionally, hunting in Centre has become a cultural marker — a way for older generations to remember and reassert values that predate asphalt and digital clocks. Local species and urban-edge hunting habits Hunting in Centre primarily targets smaller fauna: guinea fowl, doves, pigeons, hares, porcupines, cane rats, and occasionally duikers in the more wooded patches. Birds are often flushed near millet and sorghum fields or around irrigation ponds. Hunters use traps, slings, or simple shotguns made by local blacksmiths. Youth sometimes hunt with dogs or even motorbikes, disturbing bush to drive out prey — a practice frowned upon by elders who favor quiet foot pursuit and spiritual etiquette. Legal boundaries and enforcement gaps Like the rest of the country, the Centre falls under Burkina Faso’s national wildlife code, with specific hunting seasons and licensing requirements. Officially, hunting is restricted to designated months (typically December to May) and specific species, with total protection for endangered fauna. However, enforcement is weak — especially in informal settlements and fast-developing areas. Many hunters operate without permits, and bushmeat is still sold in roadside markets or directly between villagers. Environmental authorities face an uphill task balancing regulation with subsistence and cultural tolerance. Ecological pressure and loss of wild corridors Urban sprawl, road construction, and monoculture farming have drastically reduced viable wildlife corridors in the Centre Region. Bushfires, erosion, and deforestation for charcoal production further fragment habitats. Animals are forced into tighter spaces, often closer to homes and farms, which increases conflict and reduces biodiversity. In some cases, former hunting zones have become construction sites, pushing both animals and tradition out of view. Yet in places like Koubri and Bazèga, small community groups still monitor bird movements and maintain "off-limit" groves based on oral codes. Spiritual memory and the intangible bush Even in a region defined by modernity, the spiritual dimensions of hunting persist. Some hunters still observe taboos: never whistling in the bush, avoiding certain species after particular dreams, or pouring water on the ground before a hunt to “greet the ancestors.” Horns, feathers, and skins are used in local shrines, and specific days are reserved for ritual hunts tied to village calendars. Among the Mossi, the role of the hunter is sometimes symbolic — not simply to bring meat, but to demonstrate balance, endurance, and silence in a loudening world. Forgotten trails and quiet rituals in a noisy center Elders near Ziniaré recall a time when duikers were common near the hills and guinea fowl followed the rhythms of millet sowing. Some still walk the old footpaths in the early morning, not to hunt, but to remember. In one village, a single hunter remains who still uses a bow carved by his grandfather — more for ceremony than survival. These vestiges of tradition echo through the dust and haze of the Centre, holding space between memory and cement.
