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It was a mad rush to finish the semester and depart Katherine for a station quite a drive away. We arrived there late at night, talked to the manager, and then drove to a swamp to make camp. The next morning, we discovered that there is still lots of water around, and the pigs were not to be found anywhere. We shifted to another spot, and pulled-up for a bite of lunch and watched salties sunning themselves. Those nearest us were only small, but across the lagoon we could see some that were larger. I had seen only one salty outside of tours before, so this was a real treat. We saw many, many salties, and stayed well back from the water's edge as we strolled along searching for camped-up pigs to no avail. We found some fresh buffalo dung and many scrape marks in the dirt where a lone bull was venting his anger with the world. Suddenly my friend stopped, having seen an egret fly off from a low-laying boulder. I though it was just a weird termite mound, but an ear twitched, and it was the cranky bull, snoozing on his side in some grass and scrub. We stalked-in to about fifty metres, and my friend put a 400 grain Hydro into him that really woke him up, shooting my Ruger No.1 in .450/400 3" NE. The bull trotted-off into the thick stuff, and we ducked-around to intercept. He slowed after going about twenty metres, and my friend put another Hydro through him. The bull slowly walked quartering toward us, and I had him covered with the Merkel double rifle in .500NE as my mate reloaded to put another two into him, upon which the bull collapsed, perished. The bull's boss was all scabby and riddled with thick, oozing pus. We capped the head, and departed for another swamp. Sorry, I don't have permission to post my mate's photos. By late afternoon, we pulled-up near the intended swamp and began hiking. We again found that we were on fresh tracks, and after a couple of kilometres I spied a movement through some scrub ahead, and the stalk was on for another lone bull buffalo. Keeping a shrub between us, I closed the distance. He had his back to me as I stepped-out, and I made use of very quiet stalking conditions to rapidly close to about forty metres, knowing he'd soon sense something and give me a chance. And that is what happened. He whirled around, giving me a broadside shot. My right barrel hit him through the lungs, and as he took-off, my left barrel hit him further back and destroyed the renal artery or kidneys. He galloped seventy metres into the scrub and crashed. I had used Woodleigh 570 grain solids. Both exited. It was a marvellous stalk, and my first bull buffalo with the double. My mate later shot a boar with the .450/400 3" NE, and a wild dog and a smaller boar with his 6.5x55mm. We even found a freshly-killed pig that a mob of dogs had taken down. Sometimes you have a win, eh. We'd not seen any buffalo at this place last year. Another real treat was to experience the unpleasantness of carrying a rifle with cold barrels early in the morning... Brrrrrr! This was one of our very few, and greatly-appreciated cold weather hunts.

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