Speckmisser
Well-known member
- Joined
- Mar 12, 2001
- Messages
- 12,900
- Reaction score
- 27
Well... to end the suspense...
Mudwalker and I didn't have our shooting coordinated properly this weekend, and only ended up with three, all taken on Sunday. We should have had at least one more out of the first bunch, but I wasn't in position and they didn't come out where I thought they would. I could only watch over the bushes as Mudwalker took her shot.
We followed them and got another chance as they busted out of some thick cover close to the river. This time it was Mudwalker who was out of position, but I managed to pull off a nice going away shot.
The third came later in the morning, just as we'd split up to move through some cover right along the river edge. She popped out and the Stevens 311 sang the song of doom. Three or four more busted cover, and I was sure Mudwalker or Lowell would have shots, but the brush was too thick.
Yupp, those Camp Roberts quail are sneaky characters!
But you probably want to know more about the hog hunting, huh?
We met Lowell at 0500 on Saturday morning, waiting in the check-in line. There were only about six or seven vehicles in line, including ours. As you all know, the majority of the base was closed to hunting, with only areas 5, 6, and 7 open. 5 and 6 are archery/muzzleloading/shotgun only, so the rifle hunters would be relegated to area 7.
As you would expect, the riverside got pretty well covered. That's where we started... hitting the field a bit late due to the DFG guy forgetting his keys to the check station.
We found a place where no one else was parked, and headed out along the river. Shortly after hitting the thick stuff, Lowell spotted a group of hogs. We were moving in single file, and by the time Mudwalker and I got up to him, they were gone. They were moving quietly, which means they probably already had us busted.
We covered a good bit of ground without ever spotting them again. A quail hunter was across the river, and a group of guys with a bow were moving through the thick stuff behind us, but the hogs went to ground and stayed there.
We ran into a real nice sized covey of quail, but wanted to focus on the hog hunting and didn't shoot at them then.
We switched to another location along the river. The wind was quartering into our faces as we started down trail. After maybe a quarter of a mile, Lowell stopped dead in his tracks. Mudwalker and I froze, and we could hear the sounds of a hog munching on something in the bushes, less than 10 yards from us. The tops of the rushes were swaying back and forth as he slowly moved toward us.
Mudwalker was on for the first shot, so she eased up to the front of the line and readied the 870. The hog kept coming, so close now we could hear the snapping of tusks as he munched and rooted, completely oblivious to the lead death waiting in the chamber of Mudwalker's shotgun.
I could barely make out the black bristles of hair, but couldn't see much of a shape yet. Lowell put the binoculars on him, and could make out head and tusks. He was getting pretty excited, as this was most likely a big boar he'd been watching for a while.
The boar just kept moving closer, grunting contentedly. He would come out of the brush about 5 yards from where Mudwalker was waiting. A slam dunk shot. I cradled my Hawken, ready to supply some back up if necessary.
Then I felt the tickle on the back of my neck, as cool air drafted down the collar of my coat. The wind shifted! The boar froze, and we could hear him sniff the air. He blew once, like a deer, and backed off a few steps. Then he blew again, and I watched as the reeds and bushes parted to mark his exit. Everything was suddenly very quiet.
We tried to circle back around and get ahead of him, but that's simply not gonna happen with an alert boar. He disappeared, and though we cut his trail more than once, there was no catching up with him. We decided to cut our losses and go check some other places instead of spreading our scent all over the river bottom.
After a bit of driving and short foot excursions, we found some real good sign around a spring. Fresh tracks, rubbing, and a little bit of rooting made for a promising evening hunt. We decided to move the truck down the road a ways, have some lunch, and go back in for the evening hunt.
Lunch was quite nice, and Mudwalker had her first taste of MRE.. chicken tetrazini! You'll have to ask her for her impressions. I had the "pork chop in Jamaican jerk sauce". Well, it didn't quite measure up to my last Jamaican culinary experience at a Miami diner, but it was definitely filling.
Later, after sitting for a while on Saturday evening, Lowell went up on top of the ridge to look around and saw that the ridgetops all around us were covered with hunters. If any hogs moved toward that spring, they'd never get through the rifles perched around us.
We picked up and tried another area by the river, but found only tracks as darkness sent us back to the truck... tired and empty-handed.
Sunday took us back to the area where we'd pushed the big boar, but nothing moved in the early morning light. After a few hours in the area, we pulled out and went to look around in other areas.
Driving down the road near the river, we saw some quail running through a brush pile. I pulled the truck over, and we bailed out to go shoot some birds. Gotta have some kind of meat.
After a couple of hours messing with the elusive quail, at least we'd finally got some shooting. Lowell was obviously kinda bummed that he hadn't been able to put us on more hogs, but he was running out of ideas. The closures put a pretty serious limit on where we could go, and once his "secret spots" were used up, that didn't leave a lot of un-hunted territory.
It was nearing 1100, and I needed to go back and check us out of the hotel room. We packed out, and Lowell met us back at the hotel. We cruised over to Dos Padres for a tasty and filling Mexican lunch, and talked about the weekend. Mudwalker was worn out, and decided she was done hunting for this trip. She would sleep in the truck while we finished the day.
This left just Lowell and I to come up with a plan for the evening hunt. We decided to go back once more to the area where we'd bumped the boar. We would hunt deeper in this time, and hit some territory that had largely been untouched all season.
Just before sunset, we found a hyper-active trail where the hogs were coming down from the canyon, crossing under a road, and heading to the river. It looked like a cattle trail, worn several inches deep in several places. We sat tight as the sun dropped onto the horizon. We finally picked up and worked our way out, in order to get back to the truck before dark.
All in all, it was a nice weekend. The weather was wet and cool, a welcome change from the July archery hunt. I got to meet (albeit briefly) another JHO member as Live2Hunt recognized my truck and caught up to me walking in on Saturday evening. L2H, we'll have to catch up again sometime.
It was good, as always, to hunt with Lowell. However, I believe we need to consider changing his handle from BoarTracksCA to Baryshnikov. Over the course of the weekend, Lowell exhibited a grace of movement, dexterity, and balance that was almost like watching the ballet! You should have seen him, as he pirouetted over tiny rocks, high-kicked as he stepped into squirrel holes, and magically skated over downed trees.
Most impressive was his incandescent performance with a length of barbed wire! After pointing the wire out to us and cautioning us to be careful, he proceeded to catch the wire up on his boot. The ensuing dance moves would certainly have done even the great Mikhail Baryshnikov credit... hence, the name change.
Seriously, though.. thanks to Lowell for a good time and good hunt. Would've been nice to stock the freezer, but hey... it's hunting, not grocery shopping!
Mudwalker and I didn't have our shooting coordinated properly this weekend, and only ended up with three, all taken on Sunday. We should have had at least one more out of the first bunch, but I wasn't in position and they didn't come out where I thought they would. I could only watch over the bushes as Mudwalker took her shot.
We followed them and got another chance as they busted out of some thick cover close to the river. This time it was Mudwalker who was out of position, but I managed to pull off a nice going away shot.
The third came later in the morning, just as we'd split up to move through some cover right along the river edge. She popped out and the Stevens 311 sang the song of doom. Three or four more busted cover, and I was sure Mudwalker or Lowell would have shots, but the brush was too thick.
Yupp, those Camp Roberts quail are sneaky characters!
But you probably want to know more about the hog hunting, huh?
We met Lowell at 0500 on Saturday morning, waiting in the check-in line. There were only about six or seven vehicles in line, including ours. As you all know, the majority of the base was closed to hunting, with only areas 5, 6, and 7 open. 5 and 6 are archery/muzzleloading/shotgun only, so the rifle hunters would be relegated to area 7.
As you would expect, the riverside got pretty well covered. That's where we started... hitting the field a bit late due to the DFG guy forgetting his keys to the check station.
We found a place where no one else was parked, and headed out along the river. Shortly after hitting the thick stuff, Lowell spotted a group of hogs. We were moving in single file, and by the time Mudwalker and I got up to him, they were gone. They were moving quietly, which means they probably already had us busted.
We covered a good bit of ground without ever spotting them again. A quail hunter was across the river, and a group of guys with a bow were moving through the thick stuff behind us, but the hogs went to ground and stayed there.
We ran into a real nice sized covey of quail, but wanted to focus on the hog hunting and didn't shoot at them then.
We switched to another location along the river. The wind was quartering into our faces as we started down trail. After maybe a quarter of a mile, Lowell stopped dead in his tracks. Mudwalker and I froze, and we could hear the sounds of a hog munching on something in the bushes, less than 10 yards from us. The tops of the rushes were swaying back and forth as he slowly moved toward us.
Mudwalker was on for the first shot, so she eased up to the front of the line and readied the 870. The hog kept coming, so close now we could hear the snapping of tusks as he munched and rooted, completely oblivious to the lead death waiting in the chamber of Mudwalker's shotgun.
I could barely make out the black bristles of hair, but couldn't see much of a shape yet. Lowell put the binoculars on him, and could make out head and tusks. He was getting pretty excited, as this was most likely a big boar he'd been watching for a while.
The boar just kept moving closer, grunting contentedly. He would come out of the brush about 5 yards from where Mudwalker was waiting. A slam dunk shot. I cradled my Hawken, ready to supply some back up if necessary.
Then I felt the tickle on the back of my neck, as cool air drafted down the collar of my coat. The wind shifted! The boar froze, and we could hear him sniff the air. He blew once, like a deer, and backed off a few steps. Then he blew again, and I watched as the reeds and bushes parted to mark his exit. Everything was suddenly very quiet.
We tried to circle back around and get ahead of him, but that's simply not gonna happen with an alert boar. He disappeared, and though we cut his trail more than once, there was no catching up with him. We decided to cut our losses and go check some other places instead of spreading our scent all over the river bottom.
After a bit of driving and short foot excursions, we found some real good sign around a spring. Fresh tracks, rubbing, and a little bit of rooting made for a promising evening hunt. We decided to move the truck down the road a ways, have some lunch, and go back in for the evening hunt.
Lunch was quite nice, and Mudwalker had her first taste of MRE.. chicken tetrazini! You'll have to ask her for her impressions. I had the "pork chop in Jamaican jerk sauce". Well, it didn't quite measure up to my last Jamaican culinary experience at a Miami diner, but it was definitely filling.
Later, after sitting for a while on Saturday evening, Lowell went up on top of the ridge to look around and saw that the ridgetops all around us were covered with hunters. If any hogs moved toward that spring, they'd never get through the rifles perched around us.
We picked up and tried another area by the river, but found only tracks as darkness sent us back to the truck... tired and empty-handed.
Sunday took us back to the area where we'd pushed the big boar, but nothing moved in the early morning light. After a few hours in the area, we pulled out and went to look around in other areas.
Driving down the road near the river, we saw some quail running through a brush pile. I pulled the truck over, and we bailed out to go shoot some birds. Gotta have some kind of meat.
After a couple of hours messing with the elusive quail, at least we'd finally got some shooting. Lowell was obviously kinda bummed that he hadn't been able to put us on more hogs, but he was running out of ideas. The closures put a pretty serious limit on where we could go, and once his "secret spots" were used up, that didn't leave a lot of un-hunted territory.
It was nearing 1100, and I needed to go back and check us out of the hotel room. We packed out, and Lowell met us back at the hotel. We cruised over to Dos Padres for a tasty and filling Mexican lunch, and talked about the weekend. Mudwalker was worn out, and decided she was done hunting for this trip. She would sleep in the truck while we finished the day.
This left just Lowell and I to come up with a plan for the evening hunt. We decided to go back once more to the area where we'd bumped the boar. We would hunt deeper in this time, and hit some territory that had largely been untouched all season.
Just before sunset, we found a hyper-active trail where the hogs were coming down from the canyon, crossing under a road, and heading to the river. It looked like a cattle trail, worn several inches deep in several places. We sat tight as the sun dropped onto the horizon. We finally picked up and worked our way out, in order to get back to the truck before dark.
All in all, it was a nice weekend. The weather was wet and cool, a welcome change from the July archery hunt. I got to meet (albeit briefly) another JHO member as Live2Hunt recognized my truck and caught up to me walking in on Saturday evening. L2H, we'll have to catch up again sometime.
It was good, as always, to hunt with Lowell. However, I believe we need to consider changing his handle from BoarTracksCA to Baryshnikov. Over the course of the weekend, Lowell exhibited a grace of movement, dexterity, and balance that was almost like watching the ballet! You should have seen him, as he pirouetted over tiny rocks, high-kicked as he stepped into squirrel holes, and magically skated over downed trees.
Most impressive was his incandescent performance with a length of barbed wire! After pointing the wire out to us and cautioning us to be careful, he proceeded to catch the wire up on his boot. The ensuing dance moves would certainly have done even the great Mikhail Baryshnikov credit... hence, the name change.
Seriously, though.. thanks to Lowell for a good time and good hunt. Would've been nice to stock the freezer, but hey... it's hunting, not grocery shopping!
