by Ricardo Longoria

I sat still, quietly contemplating the events that I had experienced in less than one hour of hunting in South Africa. It was the first morning of my first African safari and I was spellbound by the incredible number of animals and species that we had already seen. With the waterhole less than eight yards from the nicely built ground blind any shot should have been easy with my longbow. In spite of that, I had shot right over a jackal less than thirty minutes earlier. I tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for this miss, but could only blame it on excitement and a lack of concentration. I was hunting in a bowhunter’s paradise and my senses were on overload.

Suddenly, breaking the silence, a big male warthog scuttled up to the waterhole, not more than nine yards in front of me. My PH, Robbie Guthrie, whispered, "take him.... NOW!" I drew back, picked a spot immediately behind his shoulder and released. I witnessed as the arrow passed straight through the boar’s vitals, landing immediately opposite my position. The shot was perfect! Upon being impacted he charged off to our right. We could hear the old boar making false charges at different brush piles. He was furious and wanted to take it out on somebody or something! We sat still and after a few moments the commotion died down. Waiting the allotted time, we finally went out of the blind to retrieve him. The blood trail was good and we found the boar piled up less than seventy-five yards away. He was old and with lots of character, sporting thick and worn tusks. The deep scars on his back showed the results of fighting with other warthogs and possibly even tangling with leopards. I had taken my first African big game animal, marking the beginning of what would become a passion for hunting in Africa with a longbow.

Warthogs have been described as "ugly and grotesque, but not without appeal". Or as "so ugly, they’re beautiful". I would agree wholeheartedly with either of these statements and have enjoyed hunting them immensely. After seeing many in the wild, you come to appreciate the subtle differences in their tusks and find that certain "unique" sets, be it for their length, mass or shape, make for fine collection pieces. Having had the privilege of taking several mature boars, I still vividly remember each encounter with "phacochoerus".

My proudest moment with a warthog occurred just this past year. I had set myself up in a tree hide in the hopes of seeing a large nyala bull that had been frequenting a waterhole. Less than thirty minutes had passed when the biggest warthog I have ever seen came in to water. The length of his tusks was fantastic and he was very old. So old, in fact, that his thick mane made him look much more like a bushpig than a warthog. There was no doubt in my mind that this was one of the most beautiful warthogs that I would ever have the privilege to encounter. Even though I already had several under my belt, this was one I would have to add to my collection.

I brought up my bow and carefully picked a spot before releasing my arrow. It flew true and hit the warthog squarely on the side before causing it to roll over and run haphazardly into the thick cover. I waited thirty minutes and began to track. The pig was piled up fifty yards beyond where I had seen it enter the brush. I was ecstatic! Having found this old boar without broken tusks, has been one of my greatest moments in bowhunting in Africa.