Jul 31, 2013

A new dawn - Part 2 - Warthog day!

 

Having just about recovered from the arduous journey we were glad to be heading off in search of game. We had been split into three groups each with a PH, this is common practice in Africa, with the general abundance of game it wasn't to be a problem taking alternate shots although it can help if the parties know one another which in this case we did. The three PH's we had been asigned were Dave, a man of few words and one of the leading bow hunters in South Africa, then we had EX, again a quiet fellow and relatively young but nevertheless very switched on. Then there was Hennie! Words can't really describe Hennie but I'll try - hewn from granite, suntanned, body builder type and either staionary or full tilt with little in between, fueled on a high protein and Red Bull diet and single minded in the reduction of the wildlife population of the veld - Derek and I were partnered with Hennie and after 5 full on days hunting couldn't decide if we hurt more from laughing or from being thrashed around the interior of his truck - if ever there was a test for kit and endurance, riding with Hennie is it, but for getting the job done, Hennie was the man. Within ten minutes of leaving camp we had left the dirt track and found ourselves lurching across open plains and moments later came to an abrupt halt, "there, Blue Wildebeest!"

Now, for those who are new to Africa, you will soon learn that the most important thing to a PH is good vision, now I'm not talking just the bottom row of a chart in an opticians surgery here but the makers name at the bottom of the chart at 100 yards! After a minute or so we gave up and asked where he was looking at which he pointed them out to us and drove on - this really wasn't the same as spotting Muntjac, Fallow and Roe and it took us a surprising amount of time to adapt to spotting new species in a completely different habitat. A few minutes later and we stopped abruptly and were told to decamp as quickly and quietly as possible - Hennie had spotted a herd of Blesbuck - it was now a case of stalking into them and trying to find a suitable cull animal, easier said than done. After around ten minutes we had the high ground but the herd had split and the animal we were spying was having none of it and turned and ran, Hennie deployed the sticks and told me to get ready, it was going to be a long shot if it stopped - it did and with that I squeezed the trigger, the second I'd done so I knew the shot was low and the animal took off, I cursed knowing how tough African animals are compared to their UK cousins but reloaded in the hope of a follow up shot, the animal ran around 50 metres and stopped quartering towards us at which I dropped the crosshairs onto its front shoulder and dropped it on the spot - a hand shake from Hennie and I had taken my first African animal, all within three hours of arriving in camp.

We spent the next couple of hours driving around the estate asking questions and taking in the fantastic topography and the many different species - it really was completely different to home. As dark approached we headed back to camp with only the Blesbuck ewe but on meeting up with the others it soon transpired that one of the other parties had connected with a fantastic trophy Impala. Having mentioned sticks, now would be a good time to touch on the subject a little. If you are planning a trip of a lifetime to Africa it is highly likely that you will be expected to be able to shoot off some sort of sticks, many of which have been made by the PH's or their trackers and in all honesty aren't brilliant. Prior to our trip, Derek Clifford (who works with me on occasions) and I had been developing a new set of sticks based on the four stick design - the Withy Quad pod. we had developed it in such a way so that we would be able to dissassemble them and take them to Africa - the advantage they gave us was staggering. In all we took four sets, packed down into a carrier normally used for fishing rods which incidentally travelled free as sporting goods. With shots out to 200 yards a commonplace occurence, the sticks provided a stable and accurate support and undoubtedly contributed to our success, the PH's were at first a little reticent but after a couple of days had the knack perfected and all were impressed by their ease of use and their aid to stability. The other key point was that prior to travelling everyone on the trip came to the range and practiced off them out to the ranges we were likely to encounter - and you know what they say about practice!

That evening, excitement was high and drinks flowed although the inevitable tiredness from all the travelling took its toll and several weary hunters called it a day and turned in for the night, ready for an early start the next day, all bar two that is who decided to make the most of the fire lit by the PH's and really should have known better! The following day dawned and it was six weary hunters who made their way through the light rain to the breakfast hut where a simple but welcome snack was waiting for us, the PH's were there waiting for us and quickly chivvied us on eager to make a start - it certainly made a change being on the receiving end for me! With that, Hennie burst through the door in his usual subtle style bemoaning his bad luck and the poor quality tyres on his truck which in fact were high quality tyres, just not Hennie proof - we never realised that tyres had parents or rather a lack of them but you live and learn!

Unfortunately our first morning was to be spent getting tyres fixed but what was to follow made up for it. Tyres fixed and a Red Bull refuel for Hennie and we were off, our destination this morning was a neighbouring estate, the Matola game reserve where Impala and Warthog were on the menu and within a short time of entering the reserve we were once again on foot heading through the scrub after some wary Impala. Derek was the first to shoot and the target was a young Ewe, again these were spooky animals and a quick shot was necessary and again the first shot was low as the distances were difficult to judge, I pinged the distance for the follow up shot at 170 yards and this time the animal dropped - on inspection the first shot was literally an inch from perfect but such is the tenacity of African game, anything less than absolutely perfect can result in a running animal. My turn came quickly afterwards, we had followed a track around what can only be described as a precipice with a group of young rams above us hiding in the scrub, several times I had the crosshairs almost on an animal only for Hennie to whisper "not that one" or for it to move behind some cover - then the chance came, an animal moved from right to left and Hennie quickly whispered "if it keeps moving forward take it", so I did, the animal disappeared from view and the panic set in, had I pulled the shot? Had I missed? I was sure it was neither but I was beginning to know how my own clients feel when I say its a good shot but the animal disappears from view so it was with a massive sigh of relief when we found the animal laying less than ten yards from where it was shot, a clean heart shot and my first Impala.

With the animal in the truck we were off again, clearly the Red Bull was spurring Hennie on and within minutes we were off through the bush after another poor quality Impala ram which Derek took no time in dispatching giving us three animals in less than an hour - but what an hour! After the third Impala we decided to take the carcasses to the estate larder, not quite up to our standards here in the UK but it served a purpose. Interestingly, almost none of the animal is wasted with all the offal, including the stomachs being used, meat being one of the most highly prized commodities amongst the locals. We decided that with the sun now directly overhead it would be a good time to have a rest and a bite to eat and having taken a packed lunch with us we settled down in the shade to waste a couple of hours before setting out for Warthog later in the day. The area we had chosen for our siesta was the lodge of the Matola reserve looking out over a closely cropped field leading into the bush. At intervals throughout lunch, Hennie kept disappearing with his binoculars only to reappear moments later with a disappointed look on his face - eventually we plucked up courage to interrupt his train of thought and ask what he was up to. It transpired that when the sun began to lose a little of its ferocity, the Warthog came out into the field to browse - we hadn't been sitting there wasting time at all, we'd been waiting for pigs and ten minutes later Hennie reappeared from one of his sorties with a big grin on his face - there was a pig in the field, a young male and it was me doing the shooting! Now I don't often get nerves when I'm stalking deer in the UK but there was something about stalking new species in a completely alien environment and the thought of my first Warthog really had me going and now we had to be deadly quiet, I checked the chamber for a round and shouldered the rifle, Hennie took the sticks and we headed off in the direction of the feeding hogs, minutes later we snuck around the corner of some bushes and there some 150 yards away were three Warthog, two sows and a young boar. Hennie gingerly deployed the quad pod and I very carefully placed the rifle in the cradle, the three hogs were milling around a little nervously which gave me a moment to sort myself out and prepare for a shot if the young male presented himself - a few seconds later he stopped perfectly broadside followed by a whispered confirmation from Hennie to take it, in the blink of an eye the young hog was bowled cleanly over and with a couple of kicks it was over, my first Warthog, something I'd decided was high on my list of priorities prior to leaving the UK.

With all the photos and gralloching done, Hennie decided that there was enough time to go and find a really big Warthog for Derek - Derek had already visited Africa before but like me had decided that a Warthog, preferably a trophy was high on his list and Hennie knew just where to look although getting to it was not going to be easy and twenty minutes later we were hanging on for grim death as we bumped and lurched our way down a track that no normal person would ever have attempted taking on in a vehicle - but then again normal and Hennie don't really fit together! Five minutes later, even Hennie was beaten and we had to take to foot to complete one of the hardest descents either of us had ever made especially loaded with guns and sticks and in 30 degree heat to boot!

The plan was to clamber down to a valley bottom, a drop of 1500 feet over loose rocks and scree whilst trying to stay as quiet and inconspicuous as possible, no mean feat when every foothold was giving way and threatening an unplanned rapid descent! Half way down we reached a flat area where we could spy from and a few seconds later Hennies' face lit up as there were several Warthog already in the valley bottom including what looked like a large male, exactly what Derek was after! Earlier in the day when we had been sitting talking to Hennie over lunch he had explained that he was concerned about the survival of the local Warthog population - Warthogs live in burrows, usually taken over from an Ant bear or some other burrowing animal, the Warthog then excavates it a little further in the process creating a U bend type arrangement leading to an underground chamber where they reverse into to rest.

Prior to our arrival nearly 200 mm of rain had fallen causing flash flooding, any of the lower lying burrows would have flooded at an alarming rate with the hogs sitting tight and eventually drowning - nature can be cruel at times and it really brought home the grim reality of life in Africa for the wildlife as well as exposing a side of Hennie that surprised us both. After a short breather Hennie decided that the best plan of attack was to leave the already treacherous track and attempt a near sheer descent to reach a plateau which would give Derek a shot from a relatively flat area, the only difficulty was keeping out of sight and staying as quiet as we could - not easy considering the terrain and what we were carrying but essential if we wanted a big Warthog. What followed would have put a mountain goat to shame and several times we all nearly lost our footing and with the heat on top it made it even more arduous but after around thirty minutes we reached the plateau without having alerted the Warthog to our presence and it was now just a case of waiting for the big male to present himself. Hennie carefully deployed the quad pod and Derek got the rifle in position whilst I kept him informed of the yardage - up to that point the male had been pretty mobile but something appeared to have taken his fancy on the far side of the valley bottom and the distance was increasing every few seconds, the next time he stopped was going to be his only chance before the shot went from a difficult one to a high risk one - he stopped, I called the distance at 170 yards, the next thing I heard was the report of the rifle and a thwack of the bullet hitting home and looking through the binoculars I could see that it was a good shot but the animal still took off at a rate of knots and in seconds disappered from view, the inevitable worry set in. Without the luxury of being able to watch the animal other than the settling dust it left behind the only thing we knew for sure was that it was well hit and the direction in which it headed.

Our easiest option was a straight descent and put the dogs on the trail - it's worth mentioning the dogs at this point, every one of the PH's whom we came across used terriers of some description with Jack Russels' being the favourite, terriers are tough, tenacious little dogs and well able to get out of the way of a wounded animal, bearing in mind most animals hunted in Africa have horns, teeth or tusks and know how to use them, a bigger dog simply isn't able to get out of the way quick enough and plenty have met an untimely end because of their size. We finally slithered our way to the valley floor and in a matter of seconds the dogs were onto the trail, from the looks of it the wounded animal had run straight into thick impenetrable undergrowth and Hennie called in the dogs to investigate. A tense couple of minutes followed with all of us desperate for a sign and expecting a bolting wounded warthog into the bargain, by now the dogs had left the undergrowth and were heading to a small rocky outcrop, immediately Bullet (the younger dog) started barking manicly which could only mean one thing and I ran over to find him barking at a very big and very dead Warthog. The smile on Dereks' face said everything - before we left he'd decided that if he shot nothing else, a trophy Warthog was to be the one thing worth making the trip for and now here it lay, a perfect shot and a perfect end to a day. In the final installment, Kudu, Trophy Impala and more Warthogs - don't miss it!

Safe shooting