Wife is visiting family on the mainland so I'm supposed to stay close to home otherwise she's afraid I'll go somewhere fun and get into a bunch of trouble and nobody will know that I'm gone and I'll end up in a steep, dark gulley with a broken leg or something and will die of starvation or dehydration and the mongooses will cover my carcass with leaves and nobody will ever find me or maybe I'll just fall asleep somewhere and not wake up and since she's not here watching over me there will be nobody to call the cavalry if I don't return home on time. Anyway, those were her orders and her rationale for ordering me.
So, like all good husbands, I ignored her and went hunting.
I took a muzzleloader to PuuWaawaa, about 20 miles northeast of my home. It's really arid country, with lava fields and tall, dry grass and lots of Kiawe [kee-ah'-vee] trees which, turns out, are mesquite trees. It's the last weekend of muzzleloader pig/goat season, so I wanted to see what was out there, since I've never been down to the lower parts. Goats require $10 tags and pigs are free. I turned off the highway and drove about 1/2 a mile and there is a really fat billy not more than 50 yards off the lava road. Got out, primed Old Betsy, and "BOOM!!!" I tried to take a photo in the field but the batteries were dead. I took the photo at home. In the photo, he's the head on the fence. Dressed him out and began back to the truck and fell on some loose lava, of which there is a billion acres. The rifle took the brunt of the fall and the scope [yep, scopes are legal here and with my up-close eyesight approaching that of Stevie Wonder's, it makes sense] must have gotten a brain concussion. Oh, well. Went another 1/4 mile and there's a whole herd of goats on the lava next to the road. Same thing, only this time after the "BOOM!!!" all the goats were still standing and staring at me. They slowly meandered off. I reloaded, stalked, and "BOOM!!!" All the goats looked at me, became bored with my silly game, and wandered off. Hmmm. Maybe the scope is out of wack. I've got see-thru mounts so the next shot will be with the open sights. Went waaaayy down toward the ocean and found a trail thru the trees with loads of pig sign. Off I go. I get back in about a mile and find no pigs but run smack dab into another herd of goats. I sneak up, aim with the open sights, and fire. "poof." [No capital letters this time and no exclamation marks because all I heard was an effeminate little "poof."] Crap!! The goats take off at Mach II. Something clearly wrong so I hoof back to the truck and field strip the darn smokepole. I can't find anything wrong but I still cleaned the breech plug, the primer holder, and swabbed the barrel. All I can think of is that the powder didn't ignite and the whole shebang---bullet, sabot, and powder---slowly meandered down the barrel after the primer went off and probably landed about 9 inches from my boot. Loaded up again and went back to where the pig sign was. Lots of droppings and rooting and tracks. Hiked back in about 2 miles over some horrible lava flows and by now it's 9:30 AM and getting hot. Bumped into another herd of goats and sneaked within 50 yards. Put the crosshairs on a big nanny and then said to heck with this scope and put the open sights on her shoulder. Fired and all hell broke loose. There must have been 75 goats in the tall grass and they took off in all directions. Waited a moment and walked up to where the nanny was and she was as dead as I pray Osama Bin Laden will be real soon. She's the one hanging on the fence in the photo. My Brittany, Gypsy, can be seen behind the goats.
I field dressed the goat, slung it over my shoulder [that's about 55 pounds gutted] picked up my rifle, and headed back. 1 1/2 hours later I get back to the truck and darn near collapse. What a tough hike with that goat!! The real problem was that its horns kept poking me in the armpit or the neck or the face. There was no way to figure out a comfortable position. I just slung her, walked 200 yards, dumped her, and sat down. Do that about 15 times and you're home.
No pigs, but a ton of sign. Got home and crawled up on the couch with my two pooches and fell asleep. Right now, the goat meat is soaking in ice water with baking soda added. A couple of native hawaiian hunters who also took goats told me to do that for 24 hours prior to freezing the meat. Will report after I've made jerky, stew, and curry. Boy, am I pooped.
Aloha for now.
So, like all good husbands, I ignored her and went hunting.
I took a muzzleloader to PuuWaawaa, about 20 miles northeast of my home. It's really arid country, with lava fields and tall, dry grass and lots of Kiawe [kee-ah'-vee] trees which, turns out, are mesquite trees. It's the last weekend of muzzleloader pig/goat season, so I wanted to see what was out there, since I've never been down to the lower parts. Goats require $10 tags and pigs are free. I turned off the highway and drove about 1/2 a mile and there is a really fat billy not more than 50 yards off the lava road. Got out, primed Old Betsy, and "BOOM!!!" I tried to take a photo in the field but the batteries were dead. I took the photo at home. In the photo, he's the head on the fence. Dressed him out and began back to the truck and fell on some loose lava, of which there is a billion acres. The rifle took the brunt of the fall and the scope [yep, scopes are legal here and with my up-close eyesight approaching that of Stevie Wonder's, it makes sense] must have gotten a brain concussion. Oh, well. Went another 1/4 mile and there's a whole herd of goats on the lava next to the road. Same thing, only this time after the "BOOM!!!" all the goats were still standing and staring at me. They slowly meandered off. I reloaded, stalked, and "BOOM!!!" All the goats looked at me, became bored with my silly game, and wandered off. Hmmm. Maybe the scope is out of wack. I've got see-thru mounts so the next shot will be with the open sights. Went waaaayy down toward the ocean and found a trail thru the trees with loads of pig sign. Off I go. I get back in about a mile and find no pigs but run smack dab into another herd of goats. I sneak up, aim with the open sights, and fire. "poof." [No capital letters this time and no exclamation marks because all I heard was an effeminate little "poof."] Crap!! The goats take off at Mach II. Something clearly wrong so I hoof back to the truck and field strip the darn smokepole. I can't find anything wrong but I still cleaned the breech plug, the primer holder, and swabbed the barrel. All I can think of is that the powder didn't ignite and the whole shebang---bullet, sabot, and powder---slowly meandered down the barrel after the primer went off and probably landed about 9 inches from my boot. Loaded up again and went back to where the pig sign was. Lots of droppings and rooting and tracks. Hiked back in about 2 miles over some horrible lava flows and by now it's 9:30 AM and getting hot. Bumped into another herd of goats and sneaked within 50 yards. Put the crosshairs on a big nanny and then said to heck with this scope and put the open sights on her shoulder. Fired and all hell broke loose. There must have been 75 goats in the tall grass and they took off in all directions. Waited a moment and walked up to where the nanny was and she was as dead as I pray Osama Bin Laden will be real soon. She's the one hanging on the fence in the photo. My Brittany, Gypsy, can be seen behind the goats.
I field dressed the goat, slung it over my shoulder [that's about 55 pounds gutted] picked up my rifle, and headed back. 1 1/2 hours later I get back to the truck and darn near collapse. What a tough hike with that goat!! The real problem was that its horns kept poking me in the armpit or the neck or the face. There was no way to figure out a comfortable position. I just slung her, walked 200 yards, dumped her, and sat down. Do that about 15 times and you're home.
No pigs, but a ton of sign. Got home and crawled up on the couch with my two pooches and fell asleep. Right now, the goat meat is soaking in ice water with baking soda added. A couple of native hawaiian hunters who also took goats told me to do that for 24 hours prior to freezing the meat. Will report after I've made jerky, stew, and curry. Boy, am I pooped.
Aloha for now.