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This past weekend offered Marty and I a chance to head out bush again after buffalo and boars, perhaps the last trip of the year as the 'build-up' storms had arrived in earnest.

We eventually made it to the hunting area a bit late on the Saturday, having been distracted by a couple of very fishy-looking waterholes along the way. The two barra and perch in the esky was a good omen we reckoned, and so it proved to be. A large sow looking for all the world like a 90-kilo boar was the first to fall to the Jeffery .400 during the late afternoon recon.

Next morning the task at hand was to find a 'killer' for the local aboriginal mob who had a big ceremony planned that evening and needed meat to feed their visitors. Taking no chances, they provided three guides to show us the best country and help butcher the spoils! By lunchtime we had two young bulls on the ground, thanks to some good shooting from Marty's Sako .375, although our guides preferred to be photographed with the vintage .400 double!

It was hot, hard work boning-out the carcasses and transporting the meat back to the community, but we were then free to go looking for a trophy animal or two. As luck would have it, we found a nice bull out on the floodplain but he was very suspicious and began heading for a low range of stony hills a kilometre to the east. We made a large detour to get the wind right, then began ascending the hills to try to intercept his path. Luck was with us, and we soon spotted him ambling along through the scrub, grazing occasionally as he went. There were plenty of bushes and dead sticks in the intervening distance, but soon enough he stepped into what looked like a clear lane and I gave him the contents of the first barrel. We both heard the satisfying 'Whop' indicating a good hit, and saw the bull receive the bullet, but he took off too strongly for a successful shoulder-shot so Marty broke his hip with the .375 as he crested the rise. Just as well, for the location of the first bullet strike would remain a mystery. On the other side of the low ridge was a dense patch of regrowth, so we spread out and cautiously advanced. A few minutes felt like hours, then as we cleared the low bushes I glanced to the left and there he was about 15 metres off, facing me. A quick 'right and left' from the Jeffery double knocked him straight over, and we breathed a huge sigh of relief. He was a grand old bull and a fine trophy, horns just beginning to broom at the tips, and will probably score close to 100 points.

One of the last two Woodleigh 400-grain projectiles had lodged under the hide at the front of the off-side hip, and showed typical bonded-core performance. It still weighs 385 grains after penetrating nearly the length of the animal.

It now appears that the 'build-up' storms are holding off, pushed north by a large high pressure cell approaching the southern half of the continent from the Indian Ocean. Perhaps we could squeeze in just one more trip before surrendering our freedom to the wet season....

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Marrakai
When the bull drops, the bullshit stops!
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www.marrakai-adventure.com.au