Bubblehide
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- Aug 3, 2010
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I got an invite to one of Jeff's Savage Wild boar Hunting Safari's once again. Due to family obligations Jeff was unfortunately delayed a couple days. I was first to arrive and subsequently had the cabin tent up just in the nick of time, before Steve and Howie arrived. We all quickly got situated and decided to all head out for an evening hunt. I gave Steve and Howie first pick as to where to hunt; they both opted for staying low, so I headed high. Climbing up those oak covered ridges, reminded me that age is more than creeping up on me, as I huffed and puffed, and made several stops to catch my breath. Considering that the sun was going down, I still somehow managed to keep it in high gear, and made it to the top with a little light to spare. Once pretty much at the top, I stopped for a breather before cresting, sucked down some water from my bladder, and then cautiously continued on. At this point I was on the ranches property line and hoping to find some bacon on the right side of the fence.
With a tree in-front of me, I creeped forward, using the tree as cover. As the slight slope in front of me came into view, I almost instantly took note of the pigs... on the wrong side of the fence:smiley_doh:. I took a deep breath, and another step, to see pigs on both sides of the fence. I dropped to one knee. However, since the pigs were still unaware of my presence, and the wind was in my favor, I surveyed the scene. Total, I could see about 40 pigs, with the majority on the wrong side of the fence. Most of the hogs were in the 100 pound range (great eaters), with a few football size oinkers running about, feeding, and chasing each other. I took note of the largest one, a rotund black 200 pounder (my on the hoof guesstimate) that happened to be on the right side of the fence, just to my right, about 75 yards out. I unleashed my fire stick from the Kifaru gun bearer, looking through the Nikon IRT, I aimed for a clean kill with no wasted meat. With the downward angle I had on the pigs head, I figured the shot from the copper would turn the brain to mush, so I took a deep breath and began exhaling while I gave the trigger a gentile but steady squeeze. The hog went down where she stood and pigs were running in almost every direction, there must have been about 50 in total. Pigs that I didn't see came out of the brush at a full run. I had several cross the fence and run right past me. I tried to get on another, but the pigs I tried for, either made the brush, or the wrong side of the fence. I moved down slope, toward the downed porker in hopes of catching a lager, when I suddenly heard crashing in brush behind me. There was my lager, about to cross the fence, to my side; a brown brendel, about 100 pounds . I shouldered the Tika T-3 lite as I took view of the pig as it went under the fence. I put the cross hairs on the head and gave her a squeeze, kaboom, and I saw the bullet strike the ground behind the pig, and off it went.
I located the big black hog, and drug her to a better area for gutting, then went to see if I hit the other pig. I didn't find a single spot of blood. I was thinking that at the full run the pig was doing, I must have missed it. But dammit, I don't care what anyone says, I never miss; so I had to look anyway. I followed it's path toward the thick brush. 20-30 yards or so later I spotted him facing me. With an entrance hole under one shoulder and an exit out the other, the copper bullet passed through the lungs and did it's job well. I drug the pig close to the other, opened my pack, put on my head lamp as the sun was now fading exceptionally fast, and began the gutting process. The black sow was so rotund, that I thought she was preggo, to my relief, she was simply a fat, fat hog. With both pigs gutted, and darkness set in, I tried to no avail to hoist the big hog into a tree for the night (with the expected low to be 31 degrees). I ended up dragging the big pig away from the gut pile and left her at the base of an oak. I drug the little pig to the goat trail, then threw it over my shoulders, atop my pack, and began to descend the steep goat trail carefully. I radioed Steve and Howie, they met me about 1/2 mile from camp. Steve took my pack back to camp after we stuffed the small pig up in an oak tree. Howie and I went back up to hoist the bigger hog into the tree for the night.
Before first light, Howie and I went back up top, hoping to find a hog for him, and to bring my sow down. Unfortunately I think my harvests were enough for that group, and we found no other pigs up top despite hunting the area and poking around. With a little para cord tied through the rear hocks and around a couple oak rounds, Howie and I managed to drag the hog into camp with ease (and to think that I thought it was going to be a real chore; it's been a long time since I didn't bone out an animal where I shot it) in time for lunch. After lunch we hung the hogs and began the skinning process.
It was another great trip with great company. Howie and Steve, thanks for the help. Jeff, thanks again for the privilege!
With a tree in-front of me, I creeped forward, using the tree as cover. As the slight slope in front of me came into view, I almost instantly took note of the pigs... on the wrong side of the fence:smiley_doh:. I took a deep breath, and another step, to see pigs on both sides of the fence. I dropped to one knee. However, since the pigs were still unaware of my presence, and the wind was in my favor, I surveyed the scene. Total, I could see about 40 pigs, with the majority on the wrong side of the fence. Most of the hogs were in the 100 pound range (great eaters), with a few football size oinkers running about, feeding, and chasing each other. I took note of the largest one, a rotund black 200 pounder (my on the hoof guesstimate) that happened to be on the right side of the fence, just to my right, about 75 yards out. I unleashed my fire stick from the Kifaru gun bearer, looking through the Nikon IRT, I aimed for a clean kill with no wasted meat. With the downward angle I had on the pigs head, I figured the shot from the copper would turn the brain to mush, so I took a deep breath and began exhaling while I gave the trigger a gentile but steady squeeze. The hog went down where she stood and pigs were running in almost every direction, there must have been about 50 in total. Pigs that I didn't see came out of the brush at a full run. I had several cross the fence and run right past me. I tried to get on another, but the pigs I tried for, either made the brush, or the wrong side of the fence. I moved down slope, toward the downed porker in hopes of catching a lager, when I suddenly heard crashing in brush behind me. There was my lager, about to cross the fence, to my side; a brown brendel, about 100 pounds . I shouldered the Tika T-3 lite as I took view of the pig as it went under the fence. I put the cross hairs on the head and gave her a squeeze, kaboom, and I saw the bullet strike the ground behind the pig, and off it went.
I located the big black hog, and drug her to a better area for gutting, then went to see if I hit the other pig. I didn't find a single spot of blood. I was thinking that at the full run the pig was doing, I must have missed it. But dammit, I don't care what anyone says, I never miss; so I had to look anyway. I followed it's path toward the thick brush. 20-30 yards or so later I spotted him facing me. With an entrance hole under one shoulder and an exit out the other, the copper bullet passed through the lungs and did it's job well. I drug the pig close to the other, opened my pack, put on my head lamp as the sun was now fading exceptionally fast, and began the gutting process. The black sow was so rotund, that I thought she was preggo, to my relief, she was simply a fat, fat hog. With both pigs gutted, and darkness set in, I tried to no avail to hoist the big hog into a tree for the night (with the expected low to be 31 degrees). I ended up dragging the big pig away from the gut pile and left her at the base of an oak. I drug the little pig to the goat trail, then threw it over my shoulders, atop my pack, and began to descend the steep goat trail carefully. I radioed Steve and Howie, they met me about 1/2 mile from camp. Steve took my pack back to camp after we stuffed the small pig up in an oak tree. Howie and I went back up to hoist the bigger hog into the tree for the night.
Before first light, Howie and I went back up top, hoping to find a hog for him, and to bring my sow down. Unfortunately I think my harvests were enough for that group, and we found no other pigs up top despite hunting the area and poking around. With a little para cord tied through the rear hocks and around a couple oak rounds, Howie and I managed to drag the hog into camp with ease (and to think that I thought it was going to be a real chore; it's been a long time since I didn't bone out an animal where I shot it) in time for lunch. After lunch we hung the hogs and began the skinning process.
It was another great trip with great company. Howie and Steve, thanks for the help. Jeff, thanks again for the privilege!
