For those of you who asked me to write up the whole Muckadilla experience - here it is .Looks like I've sold the story to Australian Shooter and they're happy to let me post it on the internet .

Our Boeing 737 touched down in Darwin a little after 1.00 P.M. . Glen Giffin from Muckadilla Safaris was waiting at the baggage carousel to greet us . A short visit to baggage services and we had my Model 70 and our other gear on a trolley . Then it was out of the airconditioned terminal and into the carpark for a taste of Top End weather at the end of the dry .
With some trepidation Wayne and I loaded our bags into “Grunter†, Glenn’s appropriately named but somewhat rough looking 60 series Landcruiser . Grunter was dusty and past the age of consent , but in typical ‘cruiser fashion proved her worth when the going got tough . Just wish that airconditioner had worked a bit better .
First stop was 300 km down the Stuart Highway at Katherine . This was our last chance for cheap fuel , mobile phone calls and a trip to the bottle shop for medicinal supplies .
A few more hours of mainly rough , corrugated gravel awaited us as we turned off the Stuart and headed East on our big adventure . About 9.30 P.M. we pulled into the station homestead . Located 100 metres from an idyllic river and water hole , an acre of lawn , tropical gardens and a cool sea breeze from the Gulf made a pretty good first impression .
Following a warm welcome from our hosts , the station dogs and a few resident cane toads we dragged our gear into clean , comfortable quarters , showered and hit the hay . The calming sound of the nearby waterfall , a couple of bourbon anaesthetics and a comfortable bed should all have been conducive to a good night’s sleep but I was way too hyped up for that .
The alarm went off at 5.30 A.M. .
Our plan was to check the nearby “dead pit†for hungry offal eaters at first light , take a drive around the 100 Ha. of flood irrigation and be back for a cooked brekky around 7.30 . The “dead pit†was located about 100 metres from the main cattle yards and when we arrived was the final resting place for the carcases of a few station cattle that hadn’t made it . When we left the station 3 days later it had become the final resting place for a dozen porkers too. Nothing to be seen there on our first morning though .
A blood - red sun began it’s climb as we opened the gate to the flood irrigation . The paddock was well stocked with brahmans and there were quite a few buffalo grazing . They were safe . We were after pigs .
Our 20 minute circumnavigation of the irrigated paddock proved uneventful . Glenn idled the old ‘cruiser slowly along the edge of the shady , eucalypt lined river as we headed back toward the homestead . Suddenly the brakes were on and Glenn was pointing at a boar and sow on the other side of the river . There was no time to lose as a dense stand of dry sorghum stood waiting nearby to gobble them up . Clambering out of the front seat I rammed a 140gn Nosler ballistic tip up the spout and made haste to the river bank . Intervening trees had blocked my view as I baled out of the vehicle and my heart sank as the pigs had seemingly disappeared . Fortunately , Glenn was able to point me in the right direction . The fleeing boar was about 100 metres out with only about 5 more required before he was safely into the sorghum . I levelled the crosshairs of the Leupold on his rapidly disappearing butt and the 7mm WSM bucked . Again I lost sight of the baconer but a reassuring thump followed by a brief squeal left no doubt of a hit .
Crossing the narrow , croc - free river was a boots off job and it was around 10 minutes later that I located the young boar . He’d managed to get 20 metres or so into the sorghum before expiring . We took the obligatory “great white hunter with diminutive downed pig†photos and started to make our way back to the river crossing .
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We’d gone no more than 50 metres when the world’s dumbest ex. boar chose to wander out of the sorghum toward the river for a drink . Wayne belted him in the chest with a 250 grainer from Glenn’s custom Mauser in .35 Whelen . The shot was a touch too far back and the boar spun around and made to return from whence he had come . Another 250 grains put paid to that plan and he was down and out . Two virgin pig hunters had been deflowered in the space of 15 minutes .
After a delicious country breakfast we headed out to sight in the Parker Hale .308 that Wayne would be using for the rest of the trip . Despite the fact that the big 250 grainers seemed to kill at both ends , Glenn had quite a bit of trouble prizing his custom .35 Whelen out of Wayne’s hands . Somehow , every time we crossed a fence over the next 3 days Wayne ended up with the Mauser and Glenn the Parker Hale .
With the .308 sighted in we decided to head to the far side of the property in search of donkeys . Any animals taken were to be dragged to bait stations that Glenn had utilised previously . Hopefully the pigs would have become accustomed to getting an easy feed and be visiting on a regular basis . We’d build hides overlooking the stations and visit at dawn and dusk .
Only a kilometre or so short of the first bait station Glenn spotted a small group of donkeys about 150 metres out in the trees . Wayne and I piled out of the vehicle and cautiously made our way off the track and into a position where we could shoot in unison . The donkeys were alert and stood gazing in our direction , ready to take flight . We needed to drop at least 2 of them . Quickly , we decided upon the animals that we would target and agreed that on the count of 3 we would fire simultaneously . Wayne and I have hunted together quite a bit over the years and had used this tactic many times before with limited success . Rarely does the ideal sight picture seem to coincide with the number 3 coming up .
One , two … I slowly counted out loud . Wayne let rip on three but I found my crosshairs aligned with a tree rather than a donkey . At the sound of the shot Wayne’s animal went down . Mine did a rapid about – face and started to trot away leaving me with a raking shot into his flank that hopefully would penetrate through to the opposite side of his chest . I had a 140 gn Nosler accubond in the chamber and this was going to prove a severe test of that projectile . I pressed the trigger and the big jack stumbled , took a few steps and collapsed .
In the meantime Wayne had dropped a third animal which was now trying to regain it’s feet . Wayne is an excellent marksman but had not picked up a firearm for 12 months prior to this hunt . Lacking a little confidence in his ability to make an offhand finishing shot at that range with an unfamiliar
rifle he signalled for me to shoot . Another accubond downed the struggling beast permanently .
A quick post mortem was conducted on the jack that I shot first as not having used accubonds previously I was interested to see how much penetration could be anticipated from the 140 grainer . Exceeding my expectations , the projectile had entered through the left hand rear thigh muscle , driven 75 cm through the gut and exited the rib cage on the opposite side . Wow !
Forensic examination and brag photos completed , Glenn reversed trusty old Grunter into the bush . We roped and dragged the animals along the track and into a small clearing where the skeletal remains of a few of their fallen comrades lay . We circled the bait station at a distance of about 75 metres until we found an unobstructed line of fire , built a small hide from leafy branches and left the donkeys to putrify in the tropical heat .
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A few kilometres further down the track Wayne took another donkey which we deposited on a second bait station only 100 metres from a permanent water hole . Once again we prepared a leafy hide and as darkness fell we waited in anticipation for pigs to arrive . A dozen noisy crows tempted fate but despite being called to dinner no four legged critters arrived .
Back at the homestead we relaxed following a delightful al fresco dinner . A full moon bathed the garden in it’s tranquil light . Being an unashamed romantic , Glenn suggested an evening walk to the dead pit to see if any moonlight raiders were feasting on the decomposing contents thereof . Gathering up rifles and ammo we crept out of the homestead and quietly along the dusty half kilometre track to the cattle yards . Stopping 50 metres from the rotting carcases , we surveyed the moonlit scene through scopes and binoculars . Blocky dark shapes could be seen feeding upon and moving amongst the cattle carcases . This was what we had travelled 3000 km for !
A decision had been made earlier that we wouldn’t try the “count and simultaneously shoot trick†again . Instead we nominated our respective targets and which of us would shoot first . The first gunshot was to be the signal for the second shooter to get stuck into it . From then on it was to be every man for himself .
My Leupold scope has the fine duplex reticle and the crosshairs were barely visible in the moonlight . The coarser reticle of the Nikko fitted to Wayne’s borrowed .308 was better suited . Nevertheless a pig is a pretty big target at 40 metres .
Wayne’s first shot was good and despite the mayhem , so were all bar one of those that followed . Five grown pigs were down and Wayne had scored a head shot on a running piglet at about 20 metres . He contended that it had looked much bigger through the scope .
In the pre – dawn light of our second day we headed out to check our bait stations . Nothing had been touched . These pigs weren’t hungry enough .
Moving on , we visited a pretty little billabong surrounded with pandanus . A small herd of buffalo eyed us off as we spread out in a line about 60 metres long and stalked around the edge . The black cracking clay soil was pocked with the spoor of buffalo and cattle making a sprained ankle likely . We frightened a magnificent jabiru stork but saw no pigs .
Back into the ‘cruiser and onto the track . Glenn sensed our frustration and pulled up when another herd of donkeys came into view . Other than agile wallabies and brahmans the donkeys appeared to be the most prolific species on the station and needed to be thinned out a little . We stalked to within 150 metres or so . It was Wayne’s turn to shoot first with his shot being my signal to fire . Five minutes later we had taken down 5 or 6 animals .
Donkeys are notoriously tough and this time none of my Nosler Accubonds had achieved full penetration . Opening the chest cavity of fallen beasts resulted in a flood of blood from the pulverised heart and lungs but the projectile hadn’t made it through the rib cage on the opposite side . Whilst no donkeys escaped wounded it was evident that difficult angles and running shots require a stronger , heavier projectile for humane kills . Next time I’ll try the Woodleigh 160 gn protected point .
A late afternoon stalk along a waterhole and creek resulted in us taking a solitary half grown pig that had been abandoned by his family . We didn’t sight any others .
Dinner that evening was followed by a 20km drive back to one of our bait stations . Before leaving the vehicle Glenn issued a warning to keep an eye out for buffalo which are potentially dangerous if surprised in the dark . A man had been gored to death only a fortnight before in Gove . Warily we stalked the last 500 metres in the moonlight . Disappointment again .
Driving back to the homestead we thought we’d pay another visit to the dead pit . Glenn shut the old cruiser down a few hundred metres out and headlights off , we rolled to a stop in the moonlight , a thin cloud of talc - fine bulldust following us . Oblivious to our presence , the pigs were back at the cattle carcases with apparently , more than just dinner in mind . We selected our targets in the dim light with Wayne unknowingly choosing a sow and I a
boar . As Wayne took up the final pressure on his trigger the boar , thinking he’d get a shot away himself , leapt forward and mounted the sow . If he’d been two minutes earlier he could have left this life a satisfied pig . Flame erupted from the muzzles of the .308 and the 7mm WSM bringing the amorous activities of the couple to a premature halt . Talk about coitus interruptus ! The sow was down and out but the boar took off like he’d just heard a jealous husband pull up in the driveway . Tracking him about 60 metres through the darkness I let go another shot and was temporarily blinded by the muzzle flash of the 7mm . Was it a hit or not ? I wasn’t overly confident .
We searched by torchlight and soon located the boar lying stone dead at about the point where I had fired my second shot . A quick examination revealed that my first shot had taken him through the heart / lungs and the second proved to have been an instantly fatal shot to his hind trotter .
Day 3 and once again our dawn raid on the bait stations proved unproductive.
Magnificent rainforest lined the banks of the river that we chose to hunt later in the morning . Numerous buffalo eyed us warily as we quietly made our way along the riverbank . Pig hunting in buffalo country certainly gets the adrenaline flowing . You just can’t be sure that you won’t run across a grumpy buff .
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A herd of cows and calves made an emergency exit from the river after being surprised whilst they enjoyed a midday swim . Wayne and I stood motionless as a too curious cow approached looking for the source of danger . Ever wished you were carrying a bigger gun ?
At sunset we staked out one of our bait stations waiting for the return of the 20 pigs that a station hand reported having seen there the evening before . Darkness closed in and a few bustards stopped in for a short visit . No pigs . That’s hunting I suppose .
We headed back to the homestead making the now – obligatory visit to the dead pit as we went past . Another pig each .
Celebrating the birthday of one of our hosts we dined that evening on fresh barramundi caught at the base of the waterfall , barely 100 metres from the house . It’s tough in the Top End but someone has to do it !
A couple of reflective bourbons and a hot shower and my Top End safari was over .
Whilst I was pushing out z’s , Wayne took a post midnight ride with the station owner to the cattle yards . A scrub bull had been darted and captured earlier in the day and needed checking before bed . Somewhere along the way Wayne perforated a good boar with a handful of .44 Magnum factory loads from our host’s Marlin levergun . Not amused , the pig charged to within a few metres before finally succumbing to a well directed follow up shot ... or so the story went .
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A perfect end to 3 days of enjoyable hunting .

Well done !

GREAT STUFF
Thanks for posting your story. It's wet my appetite, I will just have to go to Mucky and knock one of those buff over.

copula ergo sum