Day 4 of the hunt
Descending..
19/03/26
Up at half past four for breakfast and on the road by five. We picked up Fa-Gai again and headed deeper into the bush. We crossed several dry riverbeds filled with felled trees laid across the loose sand to provide grip. After navigating a few of these, disaster struck — we got stuck. Despite every effort, the vehicle wouldn’t budge. We tried everything, but eventually had to start digging. The first light of dawn was just beginning to appear.
It was decided that the driver would keep digging while Sina, Fa-Gai and I set off to explore the surrounding area. We were determined to salvage a successful hunting day. Mission Koba continued.
After walking for over an hour, Fa-Gai suddenly spotted an enormous warthog. I saw its large body in the distance. Sina had cut a shooting stick the day before, and he quickly set it up. In the heat of the moment I saw two animals moving. My brain was processing too many things at once. I heard “à gauche” in my ear, but I didn’t register it and pulled the trigger. I shot to the right. I saw the animal I was aiming at jump up and immediately realised I had hit it in the gut. Damn — I had shot the wrong animal.
Because of the sheer size of the huge warthog, I had aimed — or so I thought — just behind the ribcage. But with my scope, I had ended up shooting the smaller warthog standing next to it. I looked at Sina, who gave me a disappointed look and gestured emphatically while explaining left and right in French. I understood and had heard the instruction while aiming, but simply hadn’t processed it.
At the same time, I reloaded and walked towards the wounded warthog. Its entire stomach and intestines were hanging out. The little warthog quickly breathed its last. I was annoyed with myself, but at least it was a small male and not a sow. If only I had paid more attention in French class. Unfortunately, this wouldn’t be the last language mix-up of the trip.
We decided to collect the small warthog later and immediately set off in pursuit of the big “keiler”. We followed the fresh tracks, but bumped into him several times. In the thick vegetation it was impossible to get close. We also found fresh bushbuck tracks, but pursuing them in this dense bush was equally difficult. We came across some old koba droppings, but nothing worth following.
On the way back we picked up the small warthog. Fa-Gai and Sina quickly found a suitable branch, tied the animal to it, and carried it back to where our driver Ali-Ou was still hard at work trying to free the 4x4. We tried everything, but even with all our strength we couldn’t get it out. During the heavy physical effort, my shirt tore completely. Our water was also running low. Sina decided to call for help, but first had to walk quite a distance to regain signal. It was tough going in the bush with the heat and the physical exertion. As if things weren’t bad enough, one of the tyres also burst. Fortunately the driver was well prepared and, by Senegalese standards, had a decent spare wheel.
Two hours later the rescue team arrived. With the help of another 4x4 we were back on the road within minutes and reached camp around 3 p.m.
The young warthog still earned me congratulations back at camp and the obligatory photos. At least it meant extra meat for the camp. This meat is purely for the hunters though — the staff are all Muslim and do not eat warthog.
That said, Senegal is flexible; some tribes consider themselves Muslim but still traditionally eat warthog.Because of the late return, I decided to skip the evening small-game session. Instead, I had a few drinks with the group of four French hunters who were on their final day and would be leaving the next morning. We enjoyed a farewell dinner together, exchanged numbers and said our goodbyes. Then it was off to bed.Tomorrow is already day 5 of the hunt. We leave at half past three in the morning, with a wake-up call at 3 a.m.
Descending..
19/03/26
Up at half past four for breakfast and on the road by five. We picked up Fa-Gai again and headed deeper into the bush. We crossed several dry riverbeds filled with felled trees laid across the loose sand to provide grip. After navigating a few of these, disaster struck — we got stuck. Despite every effort, the vehicle wouldn’t budge. We tried everything, but eventually had to start digging. The first light of dawn was just beginning to appear.
It was decided that the driver would keep digging while Sina, Fa-Gai and I set off to explore the surrounding area. We were determined to salvage a successful hunting day. Mission Koba continued.
After walking for over an hour, Fa-Gai suddenly spotted an enormous warthog. I saw its large body in the distance. Sina had cut a shooting stick the day before, and he quickly set it up. In the heat of the moment I saw two animals moving. My brain was processing too many things at once. I heard “à gauche” in my ear, but I didn’t register it and pulled the trigger. I shot to the right. I saw the animal I was aiming at jump up and immediately realised I had hit it in the gut. Damn — I had shot the wrong animal.
Because of the sheer size of the huge warthog, I had aimed — or so I thought — just behind the ribcage. But with my scope, I had ended up shooting the smaller warthog standing next to it. I looked at Sina, who gave me a disappointed look and gestured emphatically while explaining left and right in French. I understood and had heard the instruction while aiming, but simply hadn’t processed it.
At the same time, I reloaded and walked towards the wounded warthog. Its entire stomach and intestines were hanging out. The little warthog quickly breathed its last. I was annoyed with myself, but at least it was a small male and not a sow. If only I had paid more attention in French class. Unfortunately, this wouldn’t be the last language mix-up of the trip.
We decided to collect the small warthog later and immediately set off in pursuit of the big “keiler”. We followed the fresh tracks, but bumped into him several times. In the thick vegetation it was impossible to get close. We also found fresh bushbuck tracks, but pursuing them in this dense bush was equally difficult. We came across some old koba droppings, but nothing worth following.
On the way back we picked up the small warthog. Fa-Gai and Sina quickly found a suitable branch, tied the animal to it, and carried it back to where our driver Ali-Ou was still hard at work trying to free the 4x4. We tried everything, but even with all our strength we couldn’t get it out. During the heavy physical effort, my shirt tore completely. Our water was also running low. Sina decided to call for help, but first had to walk quite a distance to regain signal. It was tough going in the bush with the heat and the physical exertion. As if things weren’t bad enough, one of the tyres also burst. Fortunately the driver was well prepared and, by Senegalese standards, had a decent spare wheel.
I'm writing whenever I've got the time. I'll try to post the next installment tomorrow otherwise it will be Friday.
