A Mauser M03 and Dangerous Game

No, I haven't been to Africa recently. But a slice of African dangerous game hunting came to me yesterday.

In the last few posts, spread out over a few weeks in real life, I've been dealing with a large mob of big pigs. All of the action has been in one paddock that has a forest backing on to it, giving the pigs perfect shelter. The paddock is connected to another, even bigger, via an open gate, both populated with a herd of Angus cows. Forty three of them, all black and quite curious.

I spent from dawn 'til dusk positioned in the middle of the paddock waiting for the pigs to appear. The fog rolled in and out several times and didn't properly clear until midday, after which time I flew the drone around other parts of the farm a couple of times. Nothing to see. However, given the reliability of this mob, I remained confident that they'd turn up. Well, the ones still standing, that is.

When the sun set and the strong shadows along the forest edge dissipated I was able to observe two wedge tailed eagles cautiously and progressively approach a pair of pigs I'd shot a few days ago. These are huge birds and it's curious how they'll take ten minutes working their way slowly towards a carcass they've already made a start on, constantly looking in all directions, especially at me in my Landcruiser a hundred and fifty metres away. But once settled they had a good feed; ham off the bone, no less.

There wasn't much light left and I was beginning to think I'd been stood-up. I stepped out of the driver's seat to get a better look at the eagles with my binoculars resting over the hood, but before settling took a look all around the paddock, wanting to confirm where the cows were. Earlier in the day they decided to come and check me out and surrounded the vehicle. Some came within feet of the driver's side window; others were sniffing the car or licking the front number plate. A quick toot of the horn made them jump backwards in a most comical way. They eventually sidled off and left me in peace.

The cows were scattered along the south-eastern edge of the paddock. As I scanned from left to right over their broad distribution I saw the movement of smaller lumps in the gap between the last two. Binoculars - yep, it's the pigs! They'd pulled a swifty on me and came out of the forest four hundred metres away from their usual check-in point. The light was getting dim and they were busy rooting around in the soft ground so I decided to walk up to them. They probably wouldn't notice me.

I stopped when I was a hundred metres away then risked a sideways move to increase the angle between the pigs and the closest cow beyond them. Once I was satisfied with the background situation I cocked my Mauser M03 and raised it to my shoulder. After a day of mostly sitting quietly in the car, this walk of three hundred metres in the cold air had got my heart and breathing going, along with the excitement I guess. I wasn't happy with the steadiness of the crosshair, so I changed to that stance with the left elbow resting on the hip, with thumb and two fingers extended and supporting the trigger guard and magazine bottom. You know the one. It was steadier, but not rock solid. It felt like the shot was good but the biggest boar took off like it was fresh out of the factory.

Reload! Rifle to shoulder. Swing. Lead. Fire! Thump and tumble. No doubt about that one. Before moving I stopped to pick up the ejected case and then pursued the gang of mid sized pigs that had almost reached the forest. Sometimes they return if a sow has been left behind. But it was a big boar that I'd hit and he was a cranky bastard who'd been bullying them around. They didn't come back. What happened instead was most interesting.

The boar had squealed up a storm when he went down, as pigs do, for the slightest reason, or for good reason. He was quiet and lying still when I approached but then jumped up and made a wobbly charge at me. I hadn't refreshed the chamber since the last shot but soon fixed that. Another 150 grainer in what the police refer to as centre-of-mass didn't make any difference. He was getting closer. A third hit (or was it the fourth?) this time in the middle of the head didn't make a whole lot of difference either. After a few more steps the boar did pause for a think though, which I'd say went along the lines of, 'Yeah. Nah. I think I'll have a bit of a rest now.' He stopped coming at me and sagged slowly to the ground. I reloaded just in case.

A charging boar stopped with a Mauser M03 in 270 Winchester.

Holy cow! That was a bit more exciting than usual. And it wasn't over. I'd forgotten about the cows. As I was standing there, catching my breath, with earplugs and earmuffs protecting my hearing, the herd of cows gathered behind me. They'd watched the whole thing, which triggered deeply ingrained genetic coding. These Angus cows were all Cape Buffalo, in their hearts. They were not happy with me. They formed a half-circle around me and were lowering and tossing their heads, mooing and approaching closer and closer, until they formed a shoulder-to-shoulder wall less than ten metres away. At that point I remembered a video where I'd seen the same behaviour from my cows' buffalo cousins.



I had no choice but to do the same as Ian Harford's professional hunting guide. I went bananas at the cows, yelling, jumping, waving arms and charging at them. They broke and started running and I did too, heading for the Landcruiser. The cows formed up and came after me and three or four times I had to double back and charge at them, which served to scatter those that were closest. They herded back together and charged parallel with me, with some eyeballing and swerving at me. I swung at them a few times and yelled some more to keep them away. By the time I made it the 300 metres to the 'cruiser they were charging past it on the other side and then away into the paddock. They respected the Landcruiser - big white metal thing with noisy horn.

Phew! Lesson learned - don't shoot pigs on foot in the middle of a herd of empathetic Cape Buffalo wannabes.