A weekend at Choppers

[BDB]

Not nice Phil, not nice at all

 

[Franklin3]

AND?

 

[Arrowslinger]

I know what happened, but ain't tellin'

Let's just say that Spec has a new nickname now too

 

[oneshothunter]

nice hog butt shooter

sounds like lots of fun .. had by all .. is it wrong of me to ask what does a weekend of fun cost at choppers ?????thanks

 

[Arrowslinger]

Go to birdsandboars.com, everything is listed there

 

[Orso]

Bubba's pig

 

[Orso]

another

 

[Orso]

uno mas

 

[Orso]

I've got two more photos that I just sent to Chopper and I'll send all five to Bubba tomorrow, I don't have your email addy at home....

I had a great time... The wind kept busting me though, I saw three smaller pigs on a distant ridge and as I stalked closer, the wind would not stop hitting the back of my ears. It didn't matter which direction I tried to come from the wind busted me. The next night, I set up where some trails crossed just before a spring, sure enough two nice size hogs came in with about 20 mins of shooting time left. As they got to about 25 yards and approaching me at a quarting-to-me angle, I felt the wind hit the back of my head and a second later they were both gone. No pigs for me this trip but I did get to help recover, drag, and skin... The only thing better than that is if it was my hog I was skinning.

I want to thank everyone for a great time. These trips are what I think about...ALL THE TIME.

Orso

 

[crodog]

Congrats to all you guys....way to go.

Cro.

 

[Arrowslinger]

Orso, good pics

wasn't too long ago you were skinning this one:

 

[Speckmisser]

OK...

So, despite all the food, I found myself afield a lot this weekend. I wasn't able to get away on Thursday, so I hit the road Friday morning at 0330. I made great time, and was pulling up on my favorite ridge about half an hour before blue light. I spent a few minutes sharpening broadheads, then geared up and hit the trail.

The ridge I was hunting didn't have a lot of sign, which I found a little disconcerting. I have always found hogs here, but from the looks of things there hadn't been much activity. I covered the ridge, then dropped down into the hollow. There's a little hill in the canyon, and I finally found some fresh sign on top. Scattered rooting told me that the hogs had apparently just started working this spot. Still, nothing was fresh enough to get my blood pressure up, so I moved on across the canyon and up the opposite ridge.

Chopper has cut some dozer trails along most of the ridges in this area, and the trail on this ridge runs forever. About halfway down, though, the dropoff becomes nearly vertical through dense chemise, and ends up in a hell hole that even I didn't want to tangle with. So around 0900 I turned back and started working my way back toward the truck. The limited sign had dampened my optimism, and I figured my "honey hole" must be dried up. After hearing that they only saw one pig last weekend, I was getting disappointed... prematurely, as it turns out.

I had slipped my arrow back in the quiver and had the bow up over my shoulder as I strolled. I wasn't really being quiet, or stalking... just cruising along thinking about a fallback plan. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a branch moving in the chemise about 50 yards away. It wasn't the wind, and it was too big to be moved by a bird. I froze in mid-stride and scanned the bush until I caught a flash of red hide. Then the flash moved into the open and became a smallish pig. Another one stepped out behind him! They were coming toward me, and I had just seen a recently used crossing down the trail. I turned to sneak back to the crossing, and was just pulling an arrow from my quiver when a long, black snout pushed through the bushes and a black hog stepped into the road less than five yards away! I had walked right past it!

Of course there was nothing to be done. The hog looked at me for a split second, huffed loudly and took off the way it had come... taking the red pigs with it. From the sounds of their departure, I'm guessing there was a whole line of hogs coming through the chemise. I gave them a second, then took off down the trail. A finger ridge juts out and forms a kind of island about 100 yards from the main road, and it sounded like the pigs were heading that way. Maybe I could head them off.

Just as I reached the finger ridge, I saw some songbirds flush from the chemise across the clearing. I froze and nocked an arrow, just in time to see two red pigs and a black one step out into the open at about 35 or 40 yards. That's much too far for the recurve, and given my record for misses, I wasn't eager to add to it. I held my breath, then eased it out in relief as they nosed around and slowly moseyed across the clearing to a solo oak tree. As soon as they got under the branches and brush, I began to slip toward them. The wind was directly in my face, and their heads were covered under brush and high grass. The stalk was too perfect!

At about 25 yards, the black hog suddenly looked right at me and froze. "Busted!" I thought. But then he lowered his head again and continued rooting. The two red hogs never even looked up. I waited for him to move into a little thicker area, and continued my sneak. 20 yards. 15. At around 10 yards, I held up. A thick screen of oak branches and brush was between me and the hogs. They were still oblivious to my presence. I only needed the black one to take two more steps and he'd be in a perfect shooting lane.

Instead, they all browsed a little further down the hill, stretching the range back out to 20 yards or so. "No problem," I figured. "They still don't know I'm here. I'll just slip around the far side of this oak tree, and I'll have a chip shot."

I had all my focus on the three hogs, but what I didn't see until I stepped into the open and got ready to draw was that there were five or six more hogs standing in the edges of the cover! There was a brief, awkward moment as realization set in for all of us, and then the hogs scattered into the chemise. I saw them head back toward the main trail, and I ran like hell in hopes of getting there first. No go. They were long gone before I got there, either crossing the ridge to the other side, or turning and running back down the ravine into the canyon.

By this time it was about 1000. Chopper had mentioned some wood that needed to be split, so I figured I'd go on back to the cabin, unpack my gear, and see about getting that chore done.

Later that afternoon, as it got around time to get back in the woods, Chopper suggested that I might want to check out another area of the ranch that hadn't been hunted in several weeks. The pigs had been pretty concentrated in that area, though, and he thought it might be a good place to look. This was a piece of the ranch I had never hunted before, but I learned a long time ago that when a guide makes a "suggestion", then you ought to pay attention. So the fading light of late afternoon found me in an area called Round Springs.

I started hitting fresh sign from the moment I got out of the truck. The hogs had been busy, and they had been here very recently. I went into hunt mode and started working the area...scouting it for good locations to set up, and expecting to come across a hog at any moment.

It was already pretty late in the evening, so I didn't have a lot of time to scout. I located a fresh wallow with some heavily used tracks, and took a seat on a dirt hill overlooking it. My stand was back in the woods a bit, so it started getting dark pretty soon. I decided to get up and work my way back out to the open oak meadows where there was more light.

Just as I hit the edge of the woods, I caught something moving beside an oak tree. I dropped to one knee and hit the binoculars. A good-sized boar was rooting under the tree. Again, the wind was perfect, but there wasn't much cover. It was getting dark fast, so I had to figure out how to get close enough for a shot. I ranged him at a little over 100 yards away when I spotted him, and he didn't notice me at all.

I crouched down and duck-walked toward him. He stepped out from behind the tree and looked right at me. I froze and turned my eyes to the ground, then watched from my peripheral vision as he stared for a moment, then went back to rooting. As soon as his head went behind another bush, I slipped up another 15 yards or so. I could see his back and tail, and quickly took a range. 34 yards. Still too far.

I took a few more cautious steps, and then he came around the tree and headed toward me. Now we were both out in the open. I waited until he had his head down and drew. The shot would be a little long (I ranged the spot later at 28 yards), but out in the open like this, with a good broadside angle, I thought it was do-able. The arrow zipped out into space, and everything immediately went into slow motion.

The hog looked up as I was drawing, and I saw his black eyes lock onto my movement. The die had been cast, though, so I followed through. The arrow arced toward him. It looked a little forward, but it was still heading for his shoulder. But it seemed so slow. It was taking forever to get there.

Then everything switched from slow motion to high speed! With the arrow still a few yards away, the hog suddenly bolted, pivoting to the right and literally dodging the arrow. As the arrow dug into the dirt where the hog had been, the hog was busy sprinting across the meadow toward the ridge. About 50 or 60 yards away, he stopped and stared back at me. Maybe he was laughing. Maybe he was still figuring out what just happened. But whatever it was, he obviously wasn't too concerned because he then turned and trotted off into the woods.

So ended Day 1. Pigs sighted. Shot attempted. My perfect missing streak at Chopper's continued unabated.

Two days of hunting left.

 

[Lurediver]

Damm Speckmisser, I have your entire 1st day hunt replaying in my head! I can picture the exact locations of where you were hunting, your movements and hell even what you were wearing

! Keep it comin

 

[Rancho Loco]

AAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

 

[grtwythunter]

Congrats on the nice hog Bubba. He'll make a nice Euro mount. I'll be waiting for him to show up.

Scott

 

[HOGHUNTER714]

Thats just "Wrong"........ Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!

 

[Arrowslinger]

Lucky for us they weren't there a week...just kiddin' spec, get to the good part already.

 

[Speckmisser]

Day 2.

Friday night, everyone was pretty worn out. A little dinner, a little socializing, and suddenly the snores started erupting. I think one of them was mine, so when I realized what was going on I rolled onto the deck and headed for bed. I remember seeing the clock as I passed. 2130. I guess we're getting old.

So, when my alarm went of at 0430 Saturday morning, I was feeling refreshed and ready to hunt. The miss from the night before was still playing through my head, and I was bound for retribution. I made sure everyone who wanted to be up was up, and after coffee and a bowl of oatmeal I jumped in the truck and headed back down the hill. My intent was to get back into that oak meadow well before light, and hopefully catch another pig out there rooting the acorns. Somehow, despite my early start, it was already reaching blue light when I cleared the woods and hit the open meadow. Songbirds were already firing up the morning, and as the day progressed I heard a couple of tom turkeys start yammering back and forth.

This is the music that makes a morning in the woods so special. I think we all ought to take a moment or two and just appreciate all the things out there besides the stuff we want to kill. I can't name half the birds I heard Saturday morning, but their songs promised such an awesome day. All the last thoughts of work, computers, and "the real world" faded away. For a minute or two, I even forgot about the bow and its wicked ammunition I had slung in the quiver over my shoulder.

I remembered the bow and arrows suddenly, though, as I caught the movement of dark shapes on the hillside several hundred yards away. They were on the other side of the neighbor's fence, off-limits, but they were slowly rooting their way down the hill toward me. I settled in on a knoll and watched them approach. I didn't get an exact count, because they were moving around so much, but I'd say there were anywhere from eight to a dozen hogs in the group... all shapes, colors, and sizes.

Then, directly across from me a big "Oreo" pig stepped out of the brush and began to root by himself. The white stripe made a perfect aiming point, and I pictured lining up my arrow on the black-on-white border behind his shoulder. I couldn't see teeth, because his head stayed in the dirt most of the time, but it was either a boar hog, or a sow with only one teat... a big, hairy teat.

Unfortunately, a fence and a touch more than 300 yards of the neighbor's property separated us. I hit him with the rangefinder just for fun as he slowly rooted his way toward me. A well-used trail crossed the fenceline about 20 yards from my perch, and he was moving right toward it... but slowly. So slowly.

After about a half hour, I ranged him again. 246 yards. He was still coming my way, but taking his time. He was out in the open this whole time, by the way. They were rooting an opening that looked like it may have been used as a pasture at some time. It's broad daylight, and these hogs are chowing down out in the wide open.

I guess the group of hogs were thinking the same thing, because they slowly changed direction and worked their way back up the mountain and into the thickets. The big hog, though, continued his ponderous approach. Once again, I put the laser on him. 200 yards.

At this point, I had been watching these hogs for an hour. The wind had been steadily blowing into my face the whole time. It wasn't gusting or swirling... just a steady breeze coming in from the west. When this hog finally gets to the fence, it's going to be an easy shot. Again, my thoughts must have been heard because the wind, my trusted companion, suddenly tickled the back of my neck.

This is when I came to have a whole new appreciation for the olfactory abilities of sus scrufa. 200 yards away, that hog suddenly stopped dead still. His nose went up in the air for a moment, then his tail shot straight out. He huffed once and trotted briskly back to the chemise thicket bordering the pasture. It was amazing.

I sat a while longer, hoping something else might come out, but the show was over.

I spent the next couple of hours learning the area. I found and followed a very heavily used trail across the property, then climbed the high ridge on the far side of the property and started working my way back into the wind. I was constantly blown away by the amount of fresh sign I was finding, and my senses were tuned to a fine edge as I crept through the trails...expecting at any moment to find a hog rooting or moving along one of the many pork highways. At about 0930 I decided to run back up to the cabin and pack a lunch, then come back and spend the whole day here. From the looks of things, the hogs must be moving all day long in the area, and I had discovered a couple of spots that I wanted to just set up on for several hours.

As I started back down the ridge, I decided to go look in a promising looking draw. The hillside around it was ripped to shreds, and it wasn't very far from where that group of pigs had disappeared this morning. The ground was covered in oak leaves, and there was no way to move quietly. I did the best I could though, even though I didn't really expect to see anything anyway. However, as I was bent to inspect some fresh tracks, I heard the rustling of leaves in a ravine. It was pretty loud to be squirrels or birds, so I crept over to have a look.

As I got to the edge, I still didn't see anything. What I didn't realize was how deep the ravine was cut. I still heard the noise, but was starting to think it was just a really active squirrel. I got a little closer just in time to see a hog's head appear from behind a bush less than 20 yards away. If he'd step on out, I'd have a great shot. I readied the bow and waited. He stepped forward a little further, rooting at something and completely ignoring my presence. Another foot or two, and his vitals would be exposed. My fingers tightened on the bowstring, and I must have raised the bow a little in anticipation.

The hog looked up, never looking right at me, then turned and browsed away. After a moment or two, he stopped eating and trotted away, up the mountain. He never ran or huffed, so I don't know if he saw me or not. I'm pretty sure he just decided it was time to go have a nap or something. I watched until he crossed under the neighbor's fence, then turned and headed back to get that lunch packed. I was eager to get back now, for sure!

Back at the cabin, I found the aforementioned huevos rancheros in progress, so I cooled my jets long enough to gorge myself and socialize. Then it was back on the road. I left the truck for the second time at about 1030. Four deer were feeding in a meadow as I came back into the area, and I slowed my pace to see if I could slip by them undetected. I almost made it, but they caught me moving and stotted off at a cautious pace.

I watched for a moment, then continued on. My destination was up on the far ridge, where a waterhole in a ravine showed signs of heavy use. The temperature was already topping the 60 degree mark, and I hoped the warmth would drive them down to water for a mid-day wallow. As I neared the pasture, I slowed and glanced out there. I didn't expect to see anything, so I was shocked when I caught something moving through the grass on the far side. The Oreo pig was back out there again, this time with a huge, wet sow and her litter of babies. I watched as they ambled into the shade of the chemise, and then I took up a stand where I could catch them if they decided to cross onto Chopper's property on their way to bed. They never came out though, and after about an hour I decided to get on up the hill.

When I got to the wallow, I was dismayed to see that the water was still muddied, and wet tracks lead back up the hill to the fenceline. If I hadn't been delayed by the Oreo hog, I might have been here when the pigs came to water. Nevertheless, I found a good spot, got comfortable, and waited in hopes that more pigs would visit the hole.

I must have nodded off, but at 1530 something made me sit up. Suddenly, it sounded like a herd of cattle or Sierra Clubbers were hiking down the trail toward the water hole. There were no cattle in this area, and I was pretty sure the Sierra Club wouldn't be hiking here either. It could only be one thing. My heart started pounding.

At first I thought they were coming directly down the draw to the water, but then I realized they were moving along the neighbor's fence. I craned my neck to see over a manzanita bush, and spotted a whole line of hogs meandering along an old fence road. They were only about 30 yards away, but 20 of those yards were on the other property and off-limits to me. I could only watch as they cruised by.

About a half hour later, I heard more footsteps in the leaves. This time, a grizzled boar followed the same trail as the earlier herd. Temptation was strong as he stopped broadside to nose something under a fallen tree, but Chopper had been very clear about shooting ONLY on his side of the fence. I held my fire and my breath, and hoped beyond hope that the boar would turn and come down to that water hole. He never turned, though, and eventually went off down the trail with the others.

Things were quiet then, until about 1700 when I heard a sudden outbreak of pig squealing. It was loud and frantic, and I remembered that I had suggested to RichW that he might want to come down and hunt the other side of the canyon. From that sound, I was suddenly sure that he had just arrowed a hog. I sat still for about 15 minutes, then decided to ease my way down the ridge and then drop down and go over to see what all the ruckus was about.

I had just come off the hill into the open when I spotted a black hog trotting fast out of the brush, closely followed by a football-sized piglet. They were coming fast, obviously spooked, and that only convinced me more that Rich had shot their companion. I crouched down in hopes of reducing this small herd by one more animal. The black pig stopped briefly and looked right at me, then kicked it in again...still coming right at me. I ranged a tree between us at 24 yards, and decided if the hog got between me and that tree I'd take the shot. Despite the small pig that was with it, this was no wet sow. Maybe Rich had killed the small one's mother.

Then there was no more time for considering. The pig passed the tree and was still closing fast until, at about 15 yards it turned parallel to me. All I needed now was for it to stop. And it did.

Unfortunately, it stopped right behind a big rock, and all I could see was the black spine, the stiff, black hair standing up in a perfect ruff. The little red pig looked very confused, but I couldn't make myself shoot it... especially not with the bigger black one right there. I held the arrow nocked and ready to draw, if the pig would just step out from behind that rock.

Then, whether the wind shifted or something else spooked it, the black hog exploded from behind the rock and charged off into the woods, grunting and blowing. The piglet looked completely dumbfounded now, but after a moment it took off too.

After I regained my breath and composure, I went on down to the road and started walking out. I figured I'd go around and meet Rich, and see if he needed help with the hog I was certain he'd killed.

As the road neared the neighbor's pasture, I spotted several black pigs coming back down the hill where I'd seen them this morning. At the pace they were moving, I knew they'd never get off the property before dark, so I kept walking. Then, right there in the same place I'd seen him in the morning, the Oreo pig was out there rooting up the pasture. At this point, I had no hope of getting him off the neighbor's property. In fact, I later asked Chopper just to be sure that it wasn't a tame hog that the neighbor was keeping (it's not).

As I was sitting, watching the Oreo pig, my radio crackled. Chopper was coming down to look for Rich. I told him I thought Rich might have shot a pig, and described what I'd heard and seen. He said he'd be down in a minute, and I started walking toward where I heard the squealing. A few minutes later, Chopper radioed again. He had picked up Rich, and it turns out the noise I heard was Rich's pig call.

For those of you who are wondering if those things work... I can only judge by the reaction of those pigs I saw earlier. They were spooked and moving fast AWAY from the call.

By this point it was too dark to hunt any longer, so I hiked back up to the truck and called it, Day 2.

 

[Rancho Loco]

grrrrrrrrr.....

 

[BobcatJess]

Nice Boar Bubba