Nic Barca
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- May 19, 2006
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Every so often I get invited to go up the Waimea canyon on mules to hunt pigs and goats. The palce is unbelievable; lots and lots of pigs, goats, and black-tailed deer. It's a real beautiful area with some amazing hunting. My friends did me a favor and guided me and my special lady friend. After a full moon ride 4 miles in, we had the first casualty- a young pig that the dogs chased down. We made camp at a nearby site and called it a night. ...or at least I thought we had. Woke up in the middle of the night to my friends hanging a bag of meat and a jaw. I hadn't even realized that they left. "Oh well... back to sleep. Maybe in the morning I'll see some action."
Some time later I left the bed to piss. Everybody is sleeping; I just finish. The camp has several horses and mules tied up, tents, tarps, 10 dogs- anyway, some commotion is heard: hard footsteps running followed by the sound of an entire pack on the move. A quick yip sounded from a dog followed by grunts of a captured pig caught right in camp! I ran over to it as everybody else is trying to put on their shoes and figure out what was going on. Seeing it was a nice boar, I grabbed hold of his back legs and called for someone to bring a knife.
In all their years, nobody had ever seen anything like this happen. It was like a suicide pig. All we could figure was that a couple of my friends dogs were still out chasing pigs and they must have ran this one pretty good. Exhausted, the boar must have made the mistake of running right in to a hunters' camp. 1.5 inch tusks and a nice healthy layer of fat. All the pigs up there are really healthy. Overpopulation of goats haven't yet ruined the place as they have other parts of the canyon.
The next morning I went across the river looked for some goats. Found some, tried lobbing a 12 gauge slug at ones head only to hit the rocks just above. That's okay. My friend who I go with tells me he only shoots for the head to avoid wasting meat. Goats are pretty frail animals and if the bullet so much as grazes them, they are likely to fall down. You hit them, you hit them and if you miss, you miss. I missed, so no big deal. He kept shaking his head at me everytime I put a hole through the good meat.
With a huge storm front supposed to close in this day, we were on edge to get out of there and fast. So when some dark clouds roled in, I rushed back down to camp in the rain, packed up camp in a hurry only to have it clear up as soon as we started the ride back. So much for the huge cold front and flash flood advisories...
Some time later I left the bed to piss. Everybody is sleeping; I just finish. The camp has several horses and mules tied up, tents, tarps, 10 dogs- anyway, some commotion is heard: hard footsteps running followed by the sound of an entire pack on the move. A quick yip sounded from a dog followed by grunts of a captured pig caught right in camp! I ran over to it as everybody else is trying to put on their shoes and figure out what was going on. Seeing it was a nice boar, I grabbed hold of his back legs and called for someone to bring a knife.
In all their years, nobody had ever seen anything like this happen. It was like a suicide pig. All we could figure was that a couple of my friends dogs were still out chasing pigs and they must have ran this one pretty good. Exhausted, the boar must have made the mistake of running right in to a hunters' camp. 1.5 inch tusks and a nice healthy layer of fat. All the pigs up there are really healthy. Overpopulation of goats haven't yet ruined the place as they have other parts of the canyon.
The next morning I went across the river looked for some goats. Found some, tried lobbing a 12 gauge slug at ones head only to hit the rocks just above. That's okay. My friend who I go with tells me he only shoots for the head to avoid wasting meat. Goats are pretty frail animals and if the bullet so much as grazes them, they are likely to fall down. You hit them, you hit them and if you miss, you miss. I missed, so no big deal. He kept shaking his head at me everytime I put a hole through the good meat.
With a huge storm front supposed to close in this day, we were on edge to get out of there and fast. So when some dark clouds roled in, I rushed back down to camp in the rain, packed up camp in a hurry only to have it clear up as soon as we started the ride back. So much for the huge cold front and flash flood advisories...
