So after a great bush pig hunt, we awake rested and ready for more action. Marco comments on having 4 nights left and three very active blinds, although one is owned by the leopards. We decide we need to check baits to get a game plan. After a round of checking baits we decide on the first bait we had checked, the shooting range blind. However, on our way back from the leopard blind, as we reach the lodge property, a band of vervet monkeys scurry across the road, through the fence and congregate in a tree by an old empty reservoir. Bad move on their part. They had been raiding an orange orchard on the adjoining property. I quickly grab the .22 and we spot a big male holding an orange. It is thick cover, but the orange stands out like a bulls eye. I take careful aim, and fire. All I see is the orange drop. We drive to the other side of the reservoir, get out, and Marco has almost parked on top of this big blue balled vervet. I always wanted a life size mount of a monkey, and here he was. One shot, right through the chest. Now that was fun! We arrive at the shooting range blind, and get situated. We have Stitch with us for the night. He is very well behaved in our tent blind. Marco has warned me that our two targets are the civet, and our wily old friend the brown hyena. Since the hyena seems to have a 6th sense, and the civet are known for dashing in and out of the bait, Marco wants me to sit behind the gun, at the ready, all night. Yes, ALL night. You heard that right. I don’t know if I am up to the task, but I will do my best. I begin my vigil at 6:30. At around 9:30, just as I am contemplating that there must be a better way, the motion detector goes off. As I had practiced so many time in the dark, my right hand moves to the safety, two fingers to silently click off the safety, while my left hand turns on the IR. Shoulder to the gun, as everything comes into focus, there is a monster of a hyena on bait. I waste no time. He is facing the blind, and I center the crosshairs on his chest. His head is down, and at that moment Stitch walks behind me on the tent floor. That slight sound of dog nails on a tent floor cause the hyena to raise his head and look straight at the blind. Kapow. I hit him center mass. He bucks, spins, growls and bites at his chest and the collapses just out of the illuminated area. Silence. We hike down and find this beautiful, old dog of a hyena piled up in a heap. I am ecstatic. While I know I can import back to the states. We take enough pictures to fill an album. What a grand trophy.