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Javelina Hunt-Jan 2013
It is freezing cold here in the northern Arizona mountains and my breath is like smoke as I hike. I am wearing layers of Sitka Gear Optifade camos but the only thing keeping me warm is the terrain and the hope of locating javelina. It’s still…eerily still this morning. No birds, reptiles, nada. The predawn quiet is broken by the sound of movement. I stop and scan with my binoculars. I have no idea what I heard…could be a coyote, fox, bobcat, mt. lion, or my imagination. The coffee hasn’t clicked in yet, my head is thick, it is early and cold and I am still trying to get into predator mode. It’s always hard for me to sleep the night before a bow hunt.
The sound returns. It wasn’t my imagination and suddenly I am very aware of my surroundings, hyper-aware. Senses tingling now as the animal within emerges. I have a lion tag. I have a javelina tag. I have a bow with a nocked arrow and I have movement a mere 80 yards away. Slowly I creep towards the sound, moving at a pace so slow that it would not trigger a motion-sensor security light. Javelina have great noses but poor eyesight so I inch forward. It takes fifteen minutes to move 50 yards.
Now I see what has been making the muffled noises. A group of cows in an open space are awaiting the first rosy fingers of dawn to pierce the morning sky. Augh. The days warms to 50 degrees, I peel some layers off and stick with it, hunting hard throughout the day.
Two days have passed, both spent looking for javelina from dawn to dusk. I am tired and frustrated…these were supposed to be easy to hunt. Maybe day 3 will work out.
Road hunting sucks but the notion of getting up high and glassing large areas of land makes the most sense…still nothing. By late morning the wind is kicking up so I decide to go low. Finally I see em…right in front of me, not 70 yards away and right next to the road (at least, for what passes for a road in AZ…it is called rock climbing elsewhere). Roughly fifteen javelina in the shade of a tree await my arrow. I park and stalk but one is hiding elsewhere and I am busted. The big herd takes off, going straight up the mountain. I am in a position to pick off stragglers…one nice one is 30 yards in front of me looking directly at me. I now understand why some people take head shots but dismiss the idea. For 15 long seconds I set still hoping he’ll give me a broadside shot but he doesn’t. Then he too is gone. I spin to my left 90 degrees and go to full draw hoping one will pop out in the small clearing that the herd passed through. One does but the action is too fast and I back down. I pursue the herd uphill for 50 minutes before realizing it is hopeless, they are long gone. Two more days pass without a single sighting…I am skunked and it’s time to go home. The youtube videos had convinced me hunting the bristle pigs was gonna be easy…it was not. Note to self, don’t believe everything you hear and even less of what you see. Maybe next year…this year it’s javelina tag soup. The ranch rats are laughing at me.
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