Day 3 Afternoon and Day 4
So after dropping off the BWB Cow, we had lunch then relaxed for a bit at the lodge.
The farm workers had been seeing a big Warthog that had been frequently entering the property under the fence on a part of the farm across the main road that was set aside for the Farm's Game Breeding Program. This ranch, owned by a wealthy business family, runs one of the biggest and best game breeding programs in RSA. Bona Bona Game Farm breeds animals with great genetics, then auctions/sells the offspring to other game farms. This allows those farms to introduce new bloodlines into their herds, helping to prevent in-breeding and allows for the introduction of animals with great genetics into their herds. The breeder animals (Sable, Wildebeest, Oryx, Roan, Cape Buffalo, Eland and Klipspringer) were kept in separated pastures on a large parcel of land across the road, right next to where they also have a private airstrip for guest to fly into. Obviously there was no hunting the breeder animals on that separate property...BUT...the workers had been seeing a large warthog that would come under the fence and feed at the feeding stations set out for the breeder sables. And we had been given permission to hunt the Sable area to try and kill the Trespasser Warthog that was frequently coming for free snacks in the late afternoon. A bonus was that there was a large section of grassland near the airstrip that was known to hold lots of Duikers and open to hunting, so we could cruise that area and glass for a Duiker as well.
So about 3pm we took a ride over to the property across the road and took a slow drive looking for Duiker. We spotted a female but no males so we moved over to the Sable area, went through the locked gate (we had been given a key) and then drove to the base of a hill on the back side of that section of land. We hiked to the top of that hill and posted there. We had a clear view of the section of pasture where the Trespasser Warthog had been frequenting so we settled in and waited. I passed the time waiting for the pig to show up by glassing different Sable that were roaming the property. There were some real eyepopper Sable Bulls whose offspring brought in a lot of money I was told. This is us waiting on the hill for the pig to show his ugly face.
I am pretty sure Arrie was bored out of his mind with this kind of "stand" hunting vs. going after things spot and stalk style, but he felt this was the best chance at getting a real good warthog so he did what he felt was needed to get his hunter a good pig. Our mixture of moving and glassing in the morning and posting up where a good warthog was known to visit frequently gave us two paths to success. As a whitetail hunter from Michigan I was comfortable with sitting and glassing and passed the time looking at the breeder Sable like this one....
They place the tubes over their horns to keep them from injuring other Sable in the breeding pasture.
We waited until about 4:30pm and decided the pig wasn't gonna show this afternoon, but planned to be back the next afternoon. We left enough time to have another slow cruise around the grass area near the airstrip to have another look for Duiker. Once again we spotted a female and another one that just quickly moved away through the grass without giving us a good look.
So we called it a night and went back to the lodge for another fine dinner, glass of great South African wine and a glass of Scotch on the rocks for a nightcap.
Day 4
Day 4 started off like a repeat of Day 3 minus killing the "Charity Cow BWB". That morning found us moving and glassing waterholes and other areas, seeing lots of animals and a few Warthog but nothing to shoot at. Females with young pigs or young males.
At one point we saw a Male Warthog near a water hole that Arrie wanted to get a better look at, so we drove closer, parked the vehicle, got the wind in our favor (as always) and started slowly stalking to the water hole. About halfway to the water we came face to face with a warthog and both us and the warthog stopped dead in our tracks and stared at each other. It was his lucky day since he was too young so we waited and he eventually trotted off. We continued toward the water hole but when we got there the Warthog in question had moved off. That ended the morning and we went back to the lodge and had lunch and coffee.
The afternoon started like the prior one, cruise the grasslands near the airstrip looking for a Duiker...zippo...nada...not even a female. So it was off to the hill to watch for the Trespasser Warthog. Once again, we waited a couple hours and once again he was a no show. By now Arrie was referring to him as the "Ghost Warthog"
So we headed for the lodge with one last cruise around the grasslands by the airstrip. A few minutes into the grassland tour, Singa, our tracker up in the back of the truck, whistled loudly and pointed. 50 yards away was a Duiker sneaking through a opening in the tall grass. I could see horns with the naked eye. I hopped out of the vehicle and stepped around to the other side where the Duiker was, racking a shell into the chamber and flipping off the safety. Arrie confirmed I should shoot him if I had a shot. He was about the leave the clearing in the grass as I pulled the rifle up, centered the crosshairs behind his shoulder and fired offhand, almost in one motion like shooting a shotgun at a departing pheasant. The 30-06 barked and I lost sight of the Duiker at the shot but the shot felt good. Arrie and Singa confirmed he was hit.
We found him 30 yards from where he was shot. The shot entered behind the near shoulder and went out his chest in front of the far leg. I was surprised that he ran that far after seeing the hit but like everything in Africa, his will to live was strong.
Right place, right time for us....wrong place at the wrong time for him.
We pulled him to a clearing by the road to take the trophy pics. He was a battle scarred old warrior...teeth all but worn away, one horn broken, the other worn down from his peak length. This Duiker was nearing the end of his life. He wouldn't score worth crap for record books but he was a perfect trophy to me because I value old warriors over record book scores. He was a ancient Duiker for a ancient hunter.
When we took him to the skinning shed, Walla the Camp Manager, came to take a look and jokingly declared him a "
Dugga Duiker". That made me smile inside and out.
So I had checked one off my list and will be proud to put him on my wall.
