The Makings of a Hunter

SORTING THROUGH PICTURES and papers going back to my early childhood, I found a letter from Mike Balcomb written during our high-school days almost 60 years ago – we were boarders together at Maritzburg College. He wrote, “…the next full moon is on the 10th of March. We get a free weekend from 8 – 10. What say you? See if Helen can do without you for that weekend – the hunting shouldn’t be too bad.” Mike was referring to bushpig hunting on his family’s farm at Kearsney, Natal, which we did at night by the light of a full moon. Mike became a well-known professional hunter and game-rancher in northern Zululand. He’s retired now but we’ve kept in contact.

This got me thinking about my other boyhood hunting pals. My oldest friend is Rob Catterall. I began school at Merchiston Prep in Pietermaritzburg after my family moved back there from Windhoek. I arrived late for the first term, and Rob was chosen to show me where the “bugs” (toilet block) was. Though barely two bricks and a tickey high, we discovered a mutual interest in guns and hunting. We went on