The 500-mile drive was finally behind me as I turned onto the long stretch of corrugated red sand that made up the rural road between Thabazimbi and Rooiberg. Having recently moved back to South Africa from Warwickshire this was to be my first trip back to the farm in many years. My old Toyota Hilux consumed the bumpy road with ease, my Ruger Hawkeye .308 safe on the back seat in its foam bag. As I turned towards the farm gate I reflected on my task at hand; I needed to attain ‘Dedicated Hunters Status’ with my hunting and conservation society in order to legally import and license my hard-earned battery of left-handed rifles waiting at the UK exporter. The ordinary state allowance of four firearms wouldn’t cut the mustard in this case so I needed a workaround. To get ‘dedicated status’ I needed to pass a ‘senior hunters’ theory and practical exam, which I had done with distinction and needed one more hunt on my record to prove an average of one hunt a year. The weariness of 8 hours behind the wheel evaporated as I started to see game animals dotting the grasslands on my way to the house. Where else to get reacquainted with the African bush then my uncle's six and a half thousand hectares of Limpopo bushveld.
Open plains with impala
The former cattle ranch turned game preserve is home to 3 of the big five, as well as all the usual larger bushveld inhabitants like zebra, giraffe, wildebeest, eland, waterbuck, kudu, hartebeest, hippo, sable, roan, and the smaller game like warthog, bushpig, impala, bushbuck, nyala, and klipspringer. The farm caters to big game hunters in the winter months and safari tourists in the summer in order to pay the bills like anti-poaching, and maintenance. It has been home to my uncle and his family for many generations.
The next morning, I woke up before first light and after a quick mug of coffee, I stepped out of the house. I set up a target at 100 m on a straight stretch of road to verify my zero. This was my first time hunting with the Peregrine 167 grain VLR-4 hand loads I had developed back home. I was getting around half MOA off the sandbags during testing, and a few clicks adjustment got my POI about an inch high at 100m. Bushveld hunting is typified by stalking through thick bush and very close-range shots.
Nyala ram on a road through thick bush
I left the vehicle where it was and tested the wind with a kick of dust. A quick check of equipment; ammo, knife, binoculars, radio (off), and hat. I headed into the breeze and immediately saw lots of impala signs – spoor and dung middens all over, as well as numerous well-worn game trails through the thorns. The request from the farm had been for meat rations for the labour, so impala, warthog, and wildebeest were all fair game.
The rains had yet to arrive so the bush was dry and the fine sand made for quiet stalking. Cautiously walking along the trails, with numerous stops to crouch down and glass under the thick acacia thornbushes, I spotted a giraffe, but nothing for the larder. After 40 minutes I had skirted a large dam and avoided the gaze of a lone impala ewe. I decided to circle back to the vehicle and shortly got caught up in a very dense tangle of thick thorn branches and 8-foot grass about the size of a rugby field in extent. I wound down my 3-9 scope to 3x in case of a close-range shot and started to push my way through. The noise of the thorns tearing at my shirt, and shorts, as well as twigs snapping convinced me the hunt was all but done, however, rounding a bush I heard the alarm snort of an impala. I had walked right into a herd feeding on the acacias. Standing dead still with my rifle raised I examined the animals through the scope. The ewes were milling around alarmed, but not quite sure why. From my left, I saw the herd ram walking behind a screen of thorns towards the right. As he stepped into a clearing he stopped and stood broadside, I steadied my freehand position as best as possible and put the crosshair on his shoulder, and fired. At the shot, the herd took off. I paced out the distance (50m) and found the spot where the ram stood marked by hair and blood. About 30m further along I found the ram lying dead. My shot was slightly high, but both lungs were hit. The Peregrine monolithics had opened well but not done much meat damage.
Impala ram
The next morning, I set out in the old Toyota Land Cruiser to look for warthogs along the river and flood plains. The rich grasses and soft ground make ideal habitat for pigs. I parked up in the shade and set out once again. With the breeze blowing from my right to left I decided to walk along the left bank of the dry river bed and glass ahead and across for groups of pigs feeding in the cool of the morning. I was weaving my way from thicket to thicket keeping a hawk-eye on the grassy plains on the other side of the riverbed. I managed to skirt around a browsing herd of kudu without setting them off and saw a mob of warthog sows and piglets feeding. In some thick stuff, I walked quite literally into a magnificent old boar but he shot off like a rocket before I could even raise my rifle. About half a mile further along the bush thinned out and I spotted a group of pigs feeding across the river bed. With the wind in my favour, I very slowly made an approach. Pigs have terrible eyesight and combined with some large humps in the ground and the odd bush, allowed me to stalk to within 70 odd meters. Sitting in the open with my rifle resting across my knees I glassed with my bino’s to check for boars. All three pigs exhibited the double set of warts on the face characteristic of males. At this stage something alerted the pigs, and they set off in single file through some tall grass and straight towards me. The lead pig stopped about 50m from me and turned broadside to sniff the air. Resting the rifle on my knees I placed my crosshair on his shoulder. At the shot, all three tore off into the long grass. A substantial blood trail led me to my fallen pig about 80 m away. Double lung shot and minimal meat damage again.
Warthog boar. Notice prominent warts below eyes
Later that evening I took a slow drive back along the river. I was looking for a wildebeest to add some much-needed meat to my paltry contribution thus far. After parking up under an enormous monkey-thorn tree I decided to walk away from the river and in a large circle back to the cruiser. This was a mistake. I soon ended up in a vast maze of 12ft tall dry interlocking thorn bushes with the only paths through being low tunnels made by large dangerous game (we avoid all pictures and mention due to the terrible threat of poachers), the dung and spoor of which littered the ground in profusion. My 308 with magnified scope felt limp in my hands as I crawled further into this shirt-tearing pickle. Visibility was down to about 3 meters and I crept along looking for trees to climb should I bump a buffalo or aforementioned tunnel user. I lost my direction due to not being able to head in one direction, but fortunately, the sun was getting low which allowed me to follow my shadow and head more or less on a bearing and get out into the open country again
All was not lost, as in the very late afternoon light, I found two impala rams feeding amongst some reeds back down at the dry river. A lucky stalk towards some trees and I was in position about 150m away with a standing position, rifle supported against the tree. After 20 minutes the larger of the two rams left the reeds heading away from me but stopped to nibble something on the ground. As he turned broadside, I fired. The two rams ran directly away from me, and as I watched through the scope my ram dropped. The shot was slightly further back but still hit the lungs.
My time on the farm ended with no further additions to the larder, but with the cobwebs well and truly gone. I have since attained my dedicated hunters status and recently my thoughts have been towards a suitable solution to hunting small game in dangerous game country. I have acquired a lower power variable scope, a 1.5-5X, and plan to carry some 200gn 308 solids in the future. I do want to find or build something along the lines of a 318 WR or a 9.3x62 – a 250+ grain solid will be fine on pigs and impala and ample for use in an emergency. I suppose my 375 H&H fits the bill, just more expensive to run.
Klip Springer in thick bush
Open plains with impala
The former cattle ranch turned game preserve is home to 3 of the big five, as well as all the usual larger bushveld inhabitants like zebra, giraffe, wildebeest, eland, waterbuck, kudu, hartebeest, hippo, sable, roan, and the smaller game like warthog, bushpig, impala, bushbuck, nyala, and klipspringer. The farm caters to big game hunters in the winter months and safari tourists in the summer in order to pay the bills like anti-poaching, and maintenance. It has been home to my uncle and his family for many generations.
The next morning, I woke up before first light and after a quick mug of coffee, I stepped out of the house. I set up a target at 100 m on a straight stretch of road to verify my zero. This was my first time hunting with the Peregrine 167 grain VLR-4 hand loads I had developed back home. I was getting around half MOA off the sandbags during testing, and a few clicks adjustment got my POI about an inch high at 100m. Bushveld hunting is typified by stalking through thick bush and very close-range shots.
Nyala ram on a road through thick bush
I left the vehicle where it was and tested the wind with a kick of dust. A quick check of equipment; ammo, knife, binoculars, radio (off), and hat. I headed into the breeze and immediately saw lots of impala signs – spoor and dung middens all over, as well as numerous well-worn game trails through the thorns. The request from the farm had been for meat rations for the labour, so impala, warthog, and wildebeest were all fair game.
The rains had yet to arrive so the bush was dry and the fine sand made for quiet stalking. Cautiously walking along the trails, with numerous stops to crouch down and glass under the thick acacia thornbushes, I spotted a giraffe, but nothing for the larder. After 40 minutes I had skirted a large dam and avoided the gaze of a lone impala ewe. I decided to circle back to the vehicle and shortly got caught up in a very dense tangle of thick thorn branches and 8-foot grass about the size of a rugby field in extent. I wound down my 3-9 scope to 3x in case of a close-range shot and started to push my way through. The noise of the thorns tearing at my shirt, and shorts, as well as twigs snapping convinced me the hunt was all but done, however, rounding a bush I heard the alarm snort of an impala. I had walked right into a herd feeding on the acacias. Standing dead still with my rifle raised I examined the animals through the scope. The ewes were milling around alarmed, but not quite sure why. From my left, I saw the herd ram walking behind a screen of thorns towards the right. As he stepped into a clearing he stopped and stood broadside, I steadied my freehand position as best as possible and put the crosshair on his shoulder, and fired. At the shot, the herd took off. I paced out the distance (50m) and found the spot where the ram stood marked by hair and blood. About 30m further along I found the ram lying dead. My shot was slightly high, but both lungs were hit. The Peregrine monolithics had opened well but not done much meat damage.
Impala ram
The next morning, I set out in the old Toyota Land Cruiser to look for warthogs along the river and flood plains. The rich grasses and soft ground make ideal habitat for pigs. I parked up in the shade and set out once again. With the breeze blowing from my right to left I decided to walk along the left bank of the dry river bed and glass ahead and across for groups of pigs feeding in the cool of the morning. I was weaving my way from thicket to thicket keeping a hawk-eye on the grassy plains on the other side of the riverbed. I managed to skirt around a browsing herd of kudu without setting them off and saw a mob of warthog sows and piglets feeding. In some thick stuff, I walked quite literally into a magnificent old boar but he shot off like a rocket before I could even raise my rifle. About half a mile further along the bush thinned out and I spotted a group of pigs feeding across the river bed. With the wind in my favour, I very slowly made an approach. Pigs have terrible eyesight and combined with some large humps in the ground and the odd bush, allowed me to stalk to within 70 odd meters. Sitting in the open with my rifle resting across my knees I glassed with my bino’s to check for boars. All three pigs exhibited the double set of warts on the face characteristic of males. At this stage something alerted the pigs, and they set off in single file through some tall grass and straight towards me. The lead pig stopped about 50m from me and turned broadside to sniff the air. Resting the rifle on my knees I placed my crosshair on his shoulder. At the shot, all three tore off into the long grass. A substantial blood trail led me to my fallen pig about 80 m away. Double lung shot and minimal meat damage again.
Warthog boar. Notice prominent warts below eyes
Later that evening I took a slow drive back along the river. I was looking for a wildebeest to add some much-needed meat to my paltry contribution thus far. After parking up under an enormous monkey-thorn tree I decided to walk away from the river and in a large circle back to the cruiser. This was a mistake. I soon ended up in a vast maze of 12ft tall dry interlocking thorn bushes with the only paths through being low tunnels made by large dangerous game (we avoid all pictures and mention due to the terrible threat of poachers), the dung and spoor of which littered the ground in profusion. My 308 with magnified scope felt limp in my hands as I crawled further into this shirt-tearing pickle. Visibility was down to about 3 meters and I crept along looking for trees to climb should I bump a buffalo or aforementioned tunnel user. I lost my direction due to not being able to head in one direction, but fortunately, the sun was getting low which allowed me to follow my shadow and head more or less on a bearing and get out into the open country again
All was not lost, as in the very late afternoon light, I found two impala rams feeding amongst some reeds back down at the dry river. A lucky stalk towards some trees and I was in position about 150m away with a standing position, rifle supported against the tree. After 20 minutes the larger of the two rams left the reeds heading away from me but stopped to nibble something on the ground. As he turned broadside, I fired. The two rams ran directly away from me, and as I watched through the scope my ram dropped. The shot was slightly further back but still hit the lungs.
My time on the farm ended with no further additions to the larder, but with the cobwebs well and truly gone. I have since attained my dedicated hunters status and recently my thoughts have been towards a suitable solution to hunting small game in dangerous game country. I have acquired a lower power variable scope, a 1.5-5X, and plan to carry some 200gn 308 solids in the future. I do want to find or build something along the lines of a 318 WR or a 9.3x62 – a 250+ grain solid will be fine on pigs and impala and ample for use in an emergency. I suppose my 375 H&H fits the bill, just more expensive to run.
Klip Springer in thick bush
