It was during these hot months that, while baiting hyenas, I had a sounder of bushpigs come onto the bait, completely (if you’ll excuse the pun) pigging out on the maggots that had taken to the decaying meat. It was an easy meal for them in a time when everything was so dry food was hard to come by.
At the time, I was barely seventeen and still getting the feel for hunting alone, but I was determined, with the sort of singlemindedness that is equally a blessing and a curse, to shoot a bushpig with my bow. A feat which, I admit, had I underestimated a great deal.
First off, a bushpig is otherwise known as, “the poor mans leopard.” A name they’ve earned because they are absolutely no fool. Secondly, the area they were on bait was a massive sand river, with towering banks, that ran beneath the fence that led to a neighboring hunting area, and this is
