The beast would strike in the middle of the night, picking off the fat merino sheep that dotted the high grasslands of the highveld.
The beast’s mighty jaws would pick up the adult merino sheep and then it would run.
For miles it carried its prey, the moon casting shadow on the beast’s path.
When the sun rose only tracks remained, and long before the hunters got anywhere near the monster’s lair, they would peter out vanishing into the dust.
The merino body count climbed, and still the beast got away.
But the Werewolf of Uitvlug, was not to fall to a well aimed silver bullet, its end came from a cellphone SMS.
As a last resort the farmer placed hi tech alarm collars on his sheep. Any unusual movement by a sheep, and an SMS is sent to his phone.
One night the farmer received an SMS from one of his sheep.
The flock weren’t too far from the homestead and he got there just in time. The beast’s shaggy coat was black, its back sloped and its fangs white under the stars of the high highveld.
A gun shot ended the reign of the werewolf of Uitvlug, nothing fancy about this bullet, it was cast from copper and bits of lead, just standard hunting ammunition.
For you see in the glare of the spotlight what lay there was no mythical beast but a large brown hyena.
The Werewolf of Uitvlug, is now on display. Its stuffed carcass stands in dramatic pose in that farm in Uitvlug,
Its face curled in a permanent snarl, its eyes dead coloured marbles.
And the merinos, they rest easy under the light of the moon, for now.