If you do still- or ambush hunting with hunting tools other than a powerful and long-range rifle, it is imperative that you are able to keep still for long periods of time. I hunt mainly warthogs with my primitive bow or spear and always have my trusty .357 magnum on my person as a back-up just for ‘in case’. Well, I don’t ‘need’ to hunt this way, but after many years of rifle hunting, this type of ‘back to basics’ hunts with my primitive bow or spear just appeal to me more and more.
For this warthog hunt I had an isolated seasonal watering hole with some patches of mud at its banks deep in the thorn-bushveld of Limpopo at my disposal. As it was late in the dry winter season, the water had receded some distance from the normal surrounding tree and grass line.
I wanted to attempt another warthog hunt with my spear that weekend, but it transpired when I reached the spot that the situation on the ground was not ideal for spear hunting, what with the fairly large[about 15-20 m] bare space surrounding the water’s edge.
After ‘reading’ the terrain, and left with limited options, I’ve chosen a particular spot as close to the water’s edge as possible and settled in with my spear near an active game trail for the patient ‘waiting-game’. Twice during the day warthogs came in to drink, but only on the far side of the water, leaving me with a racing heart but no opportunity at all.
Near sundown I left my make-shift blind empty-handed and walked back to our camp in the bush.
I must confess that I also sometimes, after yet another unsuccessful hunting day , start to ponder if there were not maybe a bit of truth in my good hunting companions good-natured teasing around the campfires that it was yet another bit of wasted about 8-hours of prime hunting time…
As I sat there hypnotized by the campfire with the coffee water starting to boil in the ‘seroot’ that night, I thought back on something that had happened during the day. I had noticed and experienced a small drama in nature that I would never have noticed if I were just passing through, however skillfully or careful on a walk-and stalk.
The memorable event that came to mind and that had kept me occupied for about an hour and a half to nearly two hours were the behavior and antics of a flock of guinea fowl.
Their subtle ‘chic-chic’ sounds were not fully registrating in my mind at first, but then I suddenly took notice of it after a while. As I idly sat there listening to their faint sounds off to my right, I realized that they wanted to come in to have some water. I am convinced that these spotted birds have exceptional eyesight, and can not only recognize color, but shape as well! They have busted me a couple of times in the past where I sat so perfectly still and camouflaged that not even a herd of impala were aware of me, but these guinea fowl spotted me almost immediately!
I decided to observe them from my hiding place and see how long it would take them to spot me this time. I realized that my spear hunt on a warthog was now finally and totally out of the question while this flock of guinea fowl is still in the surroundings.
First-off they just ‘chic-chic’ chat with each other just out of sight in the grass for nearly 15-20 minutes. Then suddenly about 6 younger ‘Askri’s’ ran out of the grass to the water’s edge where they proceed to noisily mock chase each other and scratch on the ground.
I deduct that these were the young ‘braves’ that must draw out any predator, while the main flock of about 50-70 birds suddenly became dead quiet in the grass observing the fate of the ‘cannon fodder’. They ran up and down the water’s edge where the flock wanted to drink, and two of them came quite close to where was sitting on the ground. They were still youngsters by their body size and were taking this mock chasing game so seriously that they did not even notice me. Typical of over exuberant teenagers that still has a lot to learn! After about another 15 minutes or so of this ‘horseplay’, the main flock came out of the grass. Small groups went to the water to quench their thirst while the majority proceeds to scratch in the dirt and just having a good time.
It was during this time that a big old warthog boar suddenly appeared out of the grass on the far side of the water, kneeled in the mud and had a long drink.
Wily old rascal, I thought by myself! It was wonderful to observe these close-knit and interlinking seemingly unrelated events in the daily life-or- death survival symbioses in nature.
As I put another log on the fire, I thought that although I again didn’t even have a chance with my spear at a warthog that day, the experience of observing these, largely unnoticed daily events in the bush, more than made up for it.
It was with a song in my heart that I went to sleep when most of the ‘hardekool’ logs were nearly burned to ashes.
Tomorrow is another day and I have an appointment with that big and sly old warthog boar…
Over breakfast the next morning we discuss our hunting strategy for the day and it was decided that my hunting companion would continue his hunt for Kudu or Impala with his trusted special 280 mm. I only have warthogs on my mind, and having thought about the practical ‘tactical’ situation at the watering hole, I came to the conclusion that it was totally unsuitable and impractical to try and hunt a warthog with my spear. I had not even brought my rifle on this hunt. That leaves me with my only option left-my .357 magnum with hand loaded flat nosed 158 gr semi wad cutters, with new opportunities and a bit of a different hunting tactic.
Wishing each other good luck, we set of in opposite directions for the remainder of the day. I decided that as I now have a little bit of ‘reach’ with my handgun, I will conceal myself in a different way on the opposite side of the waterhole where the warthogs came in the previous day.
This time I laid down flat on my stomach at the edge of the grass next to a small thorn bush shrub. I used my camouflage net to cover me. The idea was to show as little as possible silhouette, while having a decent arch of sight in front of me and this small thorn bush covering my right side. The wind direction was luckily not a factor at my chosen ambush spot.
I settled in for the long waiting game with my revolver resting on an old brown army net scarf in front of me, thus it was protected from the dirt and possible sun glare.
I observed many small birds drinking water and even a pair of [‘Sand Patryse’] Sand- grouse. The doves still amazes me as they seem to see a thread everywhere and will just suddenly flew off for no apparent reason.
At about 11;30, I suddenly saw a ‘Kwe-voel’ Southern African Grey Go-away-bird (Corythaixoides concolor) flying up and sat down in a tree very near to me. Now this could be good or bad news, I thought by myself. Good news in that it usually indicates that some animal is approaching the waterhole from my blind spot, but bad news in that any movement of mine will immediately be spotted by this weary bird and then it will give its alarm call to warn off any animal to coming to the water.
As I lay quietly observing this Go-Away-Bird very near to me, I could distinctly hear it giving a soft single deep ‘kwe’-call that he/she repeated every now and again. This was strange and new to me and I paid closer attention. After about 5 minutes of this soft calling, suddenly a group of about 5 other Go-Away-Birds flew up and joined the first one in the tree. They then proceed to ‘chat’ with each other in a third ‘korrr-korrr’ noise while jumping from branch to branch. I have never heard them making these two social noises, as all I ever heard from them was the familiar sharp and loud ‘kwe-kwe’ that regular hunters know so well.
After some time they just upped and left for another tree quite a distance away. Suddenly I heard the cattle wire surrounding the watering hole vibrating behind me, and I just knew, this was ‘my’ warthog that I had waited two days for! Carefully I gripped my revolver and waited in anticipation for it to suddenly appear somewhere in the corner of my eye to the left or right.
This big boar probably felt that all was safe as that the Go-Away-Birds had not set off the alarm, or maybe he didn’t even notice them. Anyway, he came straight to the water’s edge on my right about 18- 20 m from me, where he stood for a moment testing the air before kneeling down and proceeds to noisily drinking some water.
The angle was not ideal for a shot and I waited for him to finish and turn broadside to me. Meanwhile I noticed the thick blunt pointed tusks near the water, and knew that he was an old guy, probably past his prime. This guy has given his genes to a lot of strong and healthy offspring.
He finished and stood up presenting me with the ideal shooting opportunity. At the shot he just keeled over while his hind legs gave a couple of kicks, and then he lays still. I warily got up from the ground with a surprisingly lot of aching and creaking joints, [I wonder why…lol] and walked the short distance over to where he lay.
In the distance a Go-Away-Bird gave the familiar loud and sharp ‘kwe-kwe’ alarm call and I marvel at the new knowledge I had gained that day about the three sounds these birds made [Probably more?]. I have never before heard a single Go-Away-Bird very close to me making all three these sounds out in the wild.
It just again confirmed to me that this ‘new’ hunting road that I had ventured on was a much more rewarding type of hunting, as it’s all about the experience of the hunt and not so much the kill.
Back at camp my hunting companion has also got his Impala. As we sat there at our small campfire that night swapping stories and philosophized how to solve the entire world’s problems, I couldn’t help but to think how detached we had become from nature in our modern electronic world. I wondered how many other unseen, unknown and ‘insignificant’ to us little life and death dramas are being played out in the bush near me, right at that very moment?
Take care all ya long pole hunters!
For this warthog hunt I had an isolated seasonal watering hole with some patches of mud at its banks deep in the thorn-bushveld of Limpopo at my disposal. As it was late in the dry winter season, the water had receded some distance from the normal surrounding tree and grass line.
I wanted to attempt another warthog hunt with my spear that weekend, but it transpired when I reached the spot that the situation on the ground was not ideal for spear hunting, what with the fairly large[about 15-20 m] bare space surrounding the water’s edge.
After ‘reading’ the terrain, and left with limited options, I’ve chosen a particular spot as close to the water’s edge as possible and settled in with my spear near an active game trail for the patient ‘waiting-game’. Twice during the day warthogs came in to drink, but only on the far side of the water, leaving me with a racing heart but no opportunity at all.
Near sundown I left my make-shift blind empty-handed and walked back to our camp in the bush.
I must confess that I also sometimes, after yet another unsuccessful hunting day , start to ponder if there were not maybe a bit of truth in my good hunting companions good-natured teasing around the campfires that it was yet another bit of wasted about 8-hours of prime hunting time…
As I sat there hypnotized by the campfire with the coffee water starting to boil in the ‘seroot’ that night, I thought back on something that had happened during the day. I had noticed and experienced a small drama in nature that I would never have noticed if I were just passing through, however skillfully or careful on a walk-and stalk.
The memorable event that came to mind and that had kept me occupied for about an hour and a half to nearly two hours were the behavior and antics of a flock of guinea fowl.
Their subtle ‘chic-chic’ sounds were not fully registrating in my mind at first, but then I suddenly took notice of it after a while. As I idly sat there listening to their faint sounds off to my right, I realized that they wanted to come in to have some water. I am convinced that these spotted birds have exceptional eyesight, and can not only recognize color, but shape as well! They have busted me a couple of times in the past where I sat so perfectly still and camouflaged that not even a herd of impala were aware of me, but these guinea fowl spotted me almost immediately!
I decided to observe them from my hiding place and see how long it would take them to spot me this time. I realized that my spear hunt on a warthog was now finally and totally out of the question while this flock of guinea fowl is still in the surroundings.
First-off they just ‘chic-chic’ chat with each other just out of sight in the grass for nearly 15-20 minutes. Then suddenly about 6 younger ‘Askri’s’ ran out of the grass to the water’s edge where they proceed to noisily mock chase each other and scratch on the ground.
I deduct that these were the young ‘braves’ that must draw out any predator, while the main flock of about 50-70 birds suddenly became dead quiet in the grass observing the fate of the ‘cannon fodder’. They ran up and down the water’s edge where the flock wanted to drink, and two of them came quite close to where was sitting on the ground. They were still youngsters by their body size and were taking this mock chasing game so seriously that they did not even notice me. Typical of over exuberant teenagers that still has a lot to learn! After about another 15 minutes or so of this ‘horseplay’, the main flock came out of the grass. Small groups went to the water to quench their thirst while the majority proceeds to scratch in the dirt and just having a good time.
It was during this time that a big old warthog boar suddenly appeared out of the grass on the far side of the water, kneeled in the mud and had a long drink.
Wily old rascal, I thought by myself! It was wonderful to observe these close-knit and interlinking seemingly unrelated events in the daily life-or- death survival symbioses in nature.
As I put another log on the fire, I thought that although I again didn’t even have a chance with my spear at a warthog that day, the experience of observing these, largely unnoticed daily events in the bush, more than made up for it.
It was with a song in my heart that I went to sleep when most of the ‘hardekool’ logs were nearly burned to ashes.
Tomorrow is another day and I have an appointment with that big and sly old warthog boar…
Over breakfast the next morning we discuss our hunting strategy for the day and it was decided that my hunting companion would continue his hunt for Kudu or Impala with his trusted special 280 mm. I only have warthogs on my mind, and having thought about the practical ‘tactical’ situation at the watering hole, I came to the conclusion that it was totally unsuitable and impractical to try and hunt a warthog with my spear. I had not even brought my rifle on this hunt. That leaves me with my only option left-my .357 magnum with hand loaded flat nosed 158 gr semi wad cutters, with new opportunities and a bit of a different hunting tactic.
Wishing each other good luck, we set of in opposite directions for the remainder of the day. I decided that as I now have a little bit of ‘reach’ with my handgun, I will conceal myself in a different way on the opposite side of the waterhole where the warthogs came in the previous day.
This time I laid down flat on my stomach at the edge of the grass next to a small thorn bush shrub. I used my camouflage net to cover me. The idea was to show as little as possible silhouette, while having a decent arch of sight in front of me and this small thorn bush covering my right side. The wind direction was luckily not a factor at my chosen ambush spot.
I settled in for the long waiting game with my revolver resting on an old brown army net scarf in front of me, thus it was protected from the dirt and possible sun glare.
I observed many small birds drinking water and even a pair of [‘Sand Patryse’] Sand- grouse. The doves still amazes me as they seem to see a thread everywhere and will just suddenly flew off for no apparent reason.
At about 11;30, I suddenly saw a ‘Kwe-voel’ Southern African Grey Go-away-bird (Corythaixoides concolor) flying up and sat down in a tree very near to me. Now this could be good or bad news, I thought by myself. Good news in that it usually indicates that some animal is approaching the waterhole from my blind spot, but bad news in that any movement of mine will immediately be spotted by this weary bird and then it will give its alarm call to warn off any animal to coming to the water.
As I lay quietly observing this Go-Away-Bird very near to me, I could distinctly hear it giving a soft single deep ‘kwe’-call that he/she repeated every now and again. This was strange and new to me and I paid closer attention. After about 5 minutes of this soft calling, suddenly a group of about 5 other Go-Away-Birds flew up and joined the first one in the tree. They then proceed to ‘chat’ with each other in a third ‘korrr-korrr’ noise while jumping from branch to branch. I have never heard them making these two social noises, as all I ever heard from them was the familiar sharp and loud ‘kwe-kwe’ that regular hunters know so well.
After some time they just upped and left for another tree quite a distance away. Suddenly I heard the cattle wire surrounding the watering hole vibrating behind me, and I just knew, this was ‘my’ warthog that I had waited two days for! Carefully I gripped my revolver and waited in anticipation for it to suddenly appear somewhere in the corner of my eye to the left or right.
This big boar probably felt that all was safe as that the Go-Away-Birds had not set off the alarm, or maybe he didn’t even notice them. Anyway, he came straight to the water’s edge on my right about 18- 20 m from me, where he stood for a moment testing the air before kneeling down and proceeds to noisily drinking some water.
The angle was not ideal for a shot and I waited for him to finish and turn broadside to me. Meanwhile I noticed the thick blunt pointed tusks near the water, and knew that he was an old guy, probably past his prime. This guy has given his genes to a lot of strong and healthy offspring.
He finished and stood up presenting me with the ideal shooting opportunity. At the shot he just keeled over while his hind legs gave a couple of kicks, and then he lays still. I warily got up from the ground with a surprisingly lot of aching and creaking joints, [I wonder why…lol] and walked the short distance over to where he lay.
In the distance a Go-Away-Bird gave the familiar loud and sharp ‘kwe-kwe’ alarm call and I marvel at the new knowledge I had gained that day about the three sounds these birds made [Probably more?]. I have never before heard a single Go-Away-Bird very close to me making all three these sounds out in the wild.
It just again confirmed to me that this ‘new’ hunting road that I had ventured on was a much more rewarding type of hunting, as it’s all about the experience of the hunt and not so much the kill.
Back at camp my hunting companion has also got his Impala. As we sat there at our small campfire that night swapping stories and philosophized how to solve the entire world’s problems, I couldn’t help but to think how detached we had become from nature in our modern electronic world. I wondered how many other unseen, unknown and ‘insignificant’ to us little life and death dramas are being played out in the bush near me, right at that very moment?
Take care all ya long pole hunters!
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