Tejon POR Updates

[MJB]

Hey!
I didn't know this was a guided hunt!
Speckmisser, what are your rates? Sounds like you have a great sucsess rate. Do you do other ranches?

Really thanks for putting together this years JHO POR.
MJB

 

[larrysogla]

SpeckM,
Where oh where is part 3 of the great hunting story???? The suspense is pure agony!!!!! Come on man, lay off that bottle of Tequila and finish da' sizzling adventure in print. As an aside, what accident happened to Beastslayer???? 'Nuff said.

 

[Stryder]

What a great hunt and a fantastic trip! I've been wanting to go to Tejon for a JHO hunt for the last few years but something always came up, thankfully I was able to go this year and take a pig.

I shot it at about 30 ft with my dads 270 right behind the ear and it proceeded to tumble 100 yds down the ridge and it landed in the stream. A quick gut job and a couple pictures and I proceeded to drag it about 500 yds up stream, in the stream itself when I could as that was the easiest place to drag it. After 500 yds or so I came to a mass of deadfalls blocking my way and STEEP slopes on either side of me so I decided to go to my truck and get my packframe and come back for it. I got to the pig which I had left in the water to help it cool down and proceeded to tie it to the frame and pack it out of there, very slowly and with many stops. I shot it at 11:45 and didn't get it to my truck until 2:50 and to say I was beat would be an understatement. Back at camp I put it on the scale and it weighed 80 lb dressed but I could have sworn it was double that when I had it on my back.

I have to say the people there were the best

I've ever seen at a hunting camp. Everybody was laughing and having fun and just plain enjoying themselves and I was glad to be a part of it and I look forward to going again next year.

Joe90605-It was a pleasure helping you skin your pig out and if I may suggest something, next year make sure to bring extra shoes if you decide to go for a mud bath again

.

Oneclearshot_ I'll be in touch with you about trying to get my cousin a hunting license. I appreciate all the info.

MJB-THANKS ALOT!!!! for the info about where you killed your pig, I got mine right where you suggested it although I had to work a little harder than I'd planned on.

 

[beastslayer]

larrysogla,

For your benefit, and for a case of SanMig Pale, I am retelling my story of the hunt (and my battered face):

Man versus Beast (The Battle with a Russion Wild Hog)

I was not able to put into field use my knowledge of jungle warfare and survival training taught by the Igorots to us and the Green Berets in U.S. Naval Base, Subic, Phils. during my ROTC days. I saw the only opportunity when I went hunting at the vast Tejon Ranch last weekend.

I was walking into a thick acorn forest when I noticed two movements initially from the peripheral side of my left eye. I sighted my rifle and I found two jet-blacks hogs. I passed up the shots since it was too small. It looked at my direction and moved away. Silently, almost on my knees crouching, I approached the place where it came from. That's where I saw this big spotted hog resting. I raised my Winchester 30-30 rifle (yes, those Cowboy Lever Action legends) then hesitated when I realized that poor pig does not have a sporting chance. Shooting a helpless animal at the back and unaware is against my hunter’s code. Then I recall the stories by the Dumagat natives when I was child and spending most of my summer vacations in the far off mountains of Antipolo and Tanay, Phils. They said that the only time a Dumagat (just like the Igorots) can be accepted into the very exclusive fraternity of legendary hunters is if they can sneak into a mean boar, slap it in the face and either stab it with a spear or a knife while fending off attack. That imprinted on my mind and became my role model together with the exploits of my father who was also a hunter. Well, I told myself this is the chance for me to do both – apply my jungle warfare skills and be accepted into the fraternity I looked up to since I was child.

First I walked very silently to approach the pig avoiding to step on the dry branches strewn all over the place and the rattle snakes we were warned about before in our hunting-party briefing. Then by about 75 meters, I am about on my knees. By 50 meters, drenched in sweat in a chilly 50-degree weather, I am crawling towards the hog. Twice it snorted and snarled and I just thought it might move away. At about, 5 yards, half running I unsheathed my 8-inch Buck knife and lunged at it and plunged into the heart of the beast. With primal force, it buckled like a bronco and the hind feet hit me in the left eye. “Damn”, I told myself, “I missed the heart.” And, that’s when I recall the lessons from the Dumagats and the Igorot trainees: that you have to actually twist the knife to shred the prey's vitals and heart into ribbons. I did just that, and with my blood and the hog’s mixing into pools in the pristine glass land, the pig finally slowed down and fell. But not before dragging me some 50 feet and inches into falling into the deep chasm of the canyon ranch.

Well, that would be the Hollywood version in case someone buy the movie rights on my hunt. Hey, I can’t help it, I live 70 miles east of the movie studios and a town where every waitress is an actress waiting to be discovered.

 

[joe90605]

Damn straight Stryder, you know I won't be caught without some extra foot wear next time!

Thanks for letting borrow your sandals...

 

[beastslayer]

Speck - Come on, we're all waiting for part III. I want to read it on company time!

 

[beastslayer]

larrysogla - with my story, do you think I would now be accepted to the exclusive fraternity of brave dumagat or igorot legendary hunters?

or will i still be consigned to the drunken brotherhood of Tejon who wears signature camo, drives top-of-the-line SUVs, buys pigs at Bakersfield hog farm, shoots the helpless animal with their expensive high caliber guns, pose for pictures at the skinning pole and tell fantastic stories about their exploits in JHO website? (PETA will have a field day on this, read this in LA Time tomorrow).

 

[Speckmisser]

<div class='quotetop'>QUOTE </div>

or will i still be consigned to the drunken brotherhood of Tejon who wears signature camo, drives top-of-the-line SUVs, buys pigs at Bakersfield hog farm, shoots the helpless animal with their expensive high caliber guns, pose for pictures at the skinning pole and tell fantastic stories about their exploits in JHO website? (PETA will have a field day on this, read this in LA Time tomorrow).[/b]

Hey, I can't tell... are you knocking my Hummer, or my Babe Winkleman &#153; Limited Edition Tejon Ranch Camo? Surely you weren't talking about my $5500 single-shot repeating rifle?

I'm digging the revisions of your "true" story, by the way. I'd go see that movie... or at least would read it in "This Happened To Me" in Outdoor Life. (Actually, the real story would be perfect for that magazine, by the way... you ought to send it in).

 

[beastslayer]

Speck - Don't waste your time responding to my post!!!!! Where is the damn Part III???????

 

[spectr17]

Tthe last 300 pound pig I helped hang about broke the rafter at FHL.

Hogzilla Jr. never got hung on the meat pole to test Rich W's design, the hog was too long. They had to rope it up in a tree. What's the new meat pole rated for Rich? Just in case, you know, next year.

 

[Coues]

<div class='quotetop'>QUOTE (beastslayer @ May 16 2006, 06:16 PM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}></div>

Speck - Come on, we're all waiting for part III. I want to read it on company time![/b]

Come on Beasty Boy, let's hear the true story behind your self administered facial reconstruction. Did that really happen on the hunt, or did your wife give you the BEAT DOWN as your were headed out the door?

 

[Speckmisser]

Well, the battery on this laptop is about to run out on me, so let me get this jammed out while I can.

________________________________________________________________________________
_

Day 3 – 3rd Annual JHO POR

So the tricksters got me. They kept me up too late, so now it’s Sunday morning, the last day, and I’ve overslept the sunrise. This doesn’t bode well.

I’m not sure where I want to hunt, and since it’s already so late, I decide to road hunt a bit and see some parts of the ranch I’ve never been to. I cruise off toward Squirrel Canyon, and take a side road. As I round the first bend, I catch a bunch of hogs running across an open hillside. Unfortunately, they’re a half mile away at the top of a mountain and running full-tilt boogie. (Turns out that they were running after Bill “Dirtpoor” dropped the hammer on one of their compatriots.)

The day has turned out to be so pretty, I hardly focus on hunting and instead enjoy the scenery as I drive deeper and deeper in to this canyon. I stop and get out occasionally to glass, and see deer everywhere. Quail, doves, and other feathered critters abound.

Finally, the road peters out into a creek bed. It continues on the other side of the creek, but the winter rains have ripped the banks into a jagged chasm. There is a tree on the other side that I could hook the winch to, though. I give it consideration, but instead decide to take the rifle and the binos and walk up a little ways and glass. Since I’m only going right over to that little rise, I’m not going to carry the pack.

Two miles down the trail, the realization dawns on me that I’d be in something of a fix if I should spot a hog now. Sure, I can kill it with the rifle, but I have no knife, no rope, and no water. The sun is starting to really cook now, and the last of my body’s fluids are steaming away in the perspiration that coats my sticky skin. I haven’t seen so much as a hog track, despite the fact that this habitat is perfect… a running creek with little marshy tributaries, surrounded by thickets of blackberry and wildrose. I decide the smart thing at this point would be to head back to the truck.

I get back to where I started with the full intention of grabbing the pack and heading off to explore more of the trail. However, when I sit down in the truck seat it dawns on me just how tired I really am. The walk back finished me off. As I sit there, I lean my head back and nearly doze off right then and there. I get the feeling that I probably have no business carrying a loaded gun right now, and decide to head back to camp for some food and rest.

Back at camp, I do exactly that. After a sandwich of elk sausage and cheese, and a little time sitting in the shade, I’m feeling a lot better. Hunters are coming and going through the early afternoon, so there’s no time for a nap. However, just sitting back and relaxing restores my tired body to some level of normalcy, and I’m ready when late afternoon rolls in.

At this point, the majority of hunters have pulled out whether they’ve tagged a pig or not. The group harvest is at 16 pigs for the weekend, which isn’t bad… except that none of them are MINE!

As we prepare for the evening hunt, there are only six hunters left. Of them, two, Georg (Jaegermeister) and his buddy, Joe C, have never shot a pig before. They were going to leave, but they fell for that newbie self-deception that, if they could get out just once more, maybe they’d kill their pig. Then they make the fatal mistake of asking me if I thought I knew where they should go. Time to mess with the newbies!

I create an imaginary hot spot, complete with fabricated directions and send them off. I even go so far as to invent a strategy for their hunt. I can see the eager anticipation in their silly faces as I send them off. Suckers! There are no pigs over there!

With those guys dispensed with, I try to mislead Jesse (Ozstryker) and send him into a hellhole, but he has other plans. Danged newbies. They spend one weekend here and think they know everything! At least I’m sure he’ll come up zero. That leaves Dave and Joe (Joe90605). But I have a use for them. I’ll keep them close by, so they can help when I make the dive into that little hellhole to shoot my last-minute hog.

I plan to send Joe up a wash that just happens to run right under the ridge I plan to hunt. I figure that by the time he hits the good spots, I’ll be set up and he’ll push the hogs out of the bottom right up onto the hillside. Dave will go in from the opposite side, unknowingly pushing a bedding area that funnels right onto my ridge as well. All I’ll have to do is sit tight with the rifle at ready, and take my pick! I’ll probably be able to shoot the hog on top of the ridge where we can walk right up with the game cart, but I think I might knock it down into the hellhole, so they’ll have to help me drag it out.

We take off to hunt at 4:00. I figure the hogs won’t even start to move off their beds until it’s almost dark, but I round a turn and there’s a lone hog walking across an open hillside. I consider a shot from the truck, but shooting from the paved roads is a no-no, and witnesses are right behind me. I stop and step out, and as soon as I do the hog starts to run down into a draw. I grab the rifle and sprint for the draw. I’m running downhill, though, and after a few steps I suddenly realize that I’m like a tractor-trailer with failing brakes.

A cow and calf are nosing around in the grass at the entrance of the draw, and they look up in wide-eyed horror as I come charging full-bore down the road at them. I don’t know exactly what is going through their bovine brains, but it must be bad because they get up out of that draw faster than I’ve ever seen a cow move in my life! I blow by them and finally hit a slight incline that slows me down enough to get control and put on the brakes. I jack a round into the chamber and start walking up the draw in hopes that I’m after the dumbest pig that ever walked the earth. I’m not though, and after about a quarter mile up the draw I stop in the realization that there is no way that pig didn’t hear me coming.

I also realize that my two patsies… err… hunting buddies, are probably out there behind my truck wondering just what the hell is going on. When I get back to the truck, Dave is standing there. “Just what the hell is going on?” he asks me.

“Pig,” I puff. “Gone now,” I huff.

We get back to the plan, and Joe pulls out at the appointed place and starts up the trail. Dave follows me up Speckmisser Ridge and around to the hunting area. I point him in the general direction that he should go, and I start up my ridge in highest confidence. It’s not the first time I’ve tagged out at the last minute here, but this one will be particularly rewarding.

I reach my spot as the day starts to dim, and begin to glass. I look back toward the main road and start glassing a marshy area that is just below the pavement. It’s well obscured by trees, and I’ve never seen another hunter down there, even though there’s a paved road that runs right through it. Every year I dream that I’ll find a hog in that marsh, but of course it never happens. That would be too easy.

As I’m dreaming about easy recoveries, I spot something out of place amidst all the cows down in the swamp. I recognize the way it’s moving… not the long-legged, stupid walk of cattle, but the short stride of porcine legs. That’s a hog! Then I notice something laying in a pool of water there, and as it rolls and splashes I recognize another hog. Suddenly I’m seeing hogs all over that swamp, rolling in the mud, cavorting in the meadow, and generally acting like they’ve never seen a hunter!

I calculate how long it will take me to reach my vehicle and make a mad drive to get into position for a shot. I realize that, even if I could get there before dark, the hogs will never hang around that long. Oh well, I know how I can mess with Joe anyway. I’ll send him down on an “easy” stalk, but I won’t warn him about the cattle.

Since he’s new to pig hunting, he probably won’t realize that the hogs use the cattle as sentries. Cattle are pretty spooky about humans, and get stirred up if a man comes walking along. If he walks into that open area above the swamp, all those cows are going to spook and blow out of there, taking the hogs with them. Joe will be left standing flat-footed. This should be entertaining.

I call him on the radio and excitedly tell him about the pigs, and that he better hurry or they’ll be gone soon. Then I sit back and watch the show.

After what seems an eternity, Joe finally pops out onto the road and heads downhill toward the swamp. In the meantime, more pigs have come to join the party. Somehow, Joe manages to get past the first two cows without spooking them too bad. But there are probably 20 more between him and those hogs. How’s he going to do this?

At first, it looks like he’s decided to skirt the woods and make his way down. I curse, as it looks like this plan might work. But then he runs out of cover and steps onto the open ground. The cattle, true to form, bolt in stupid terror. As they gather into a stampeding herd, the pigs are doing the same thing. My jaw drops as more and more pigs appear until there are way too many to count. They form a huge herd and go thundering out into the open field where they stop and mill around as if deciding where to go. They probably have no idea that Joe is there, only that the cattle freaked out. If Joe runs down the road, he may be able to get in range for a shot.

And then he does something that I find totally inexplicable. Instead of running down the nice, paved road to get into position, he starts out across the meadow into the swamp.

This swamp is in a pocket at the bottom of several canyons. Cattle and hogs have been using it to wallow and water for ages, and the ground has become a black, gooey, reeking, fetid muck. I watch, thinking that surely he’s not going to try to walk across that stuff. But there he goes!

After a moment or two my radio crackles. It’s Joe. “Hey. I’m stuck in the mud.”

“What?” I reply.

“I’m in this mud, and I’m stuck. I think I’m going to have to try to crawl out.”

I turn the glasses to the swamp and see him stuck, sure enough, like a fence post.

There are pigs moving out on the side of Speckmisser Ridge, and I don’t want to spook them with my laughter so I hold it in. More pigs have come out across the draw. It’s the witching hour again, and with all these pigs coming out, I don’t want to have to go make a rescue. I turn the binos back to the swamp, and see that he’s apparently extricated himself.

I glass around some more, and see that pigs are moving all over the place, but nothing is on my side of the canyon. When I turn to check in on Joe again, I see that his truck is gone. He’s probably gone back to camp.

In the meantime, Dave hasn’t pushed anything to me and I’m starting to think I might have to go down into the ravine to get my own hog. That’s a bummer, but what are you gonna do?

I look down the hill, and catch movement in a little oak flat about 200 yards downhill. I move down to a semi-level spot and glass again. Sure enough, a lone hog is nosing around under the oaks. I hit the rangefinder and lock him in at 180 yards. I could make this shot, but he is moving toward me. I hold off as he steps under a spreading oak tree. When he comes out, he’s changed direction and now he’s at 220 yards. That’s too far. I should get closer.

I start trying to creep down the slope. It’s very steep, and I end up using my free hand as well as my feet. I stop and look again. The pig is still there, but I take a further accounting of the situation. It’s nearly dark. If I kill this pig, I will have to take it down hill, into the drainage and to the road. The recovery will make all of my other kills at Tejon look like cakewalks. I do something I’ve never done before. I opt out. I let the hog go, and climb back up the ridge.

At the top of the ridge I catch one glimpse as the hog feeds over the side of the ravine into the thicket below. What’s happened to me? There was a time I’d never have even considered the recovery until after the kill. Here I am, wussing out on the last day of the hunt! The internal conflict (this is no joke) is insane. My decision means that, after four successful, consecutive years hunting at Tejon Ranch, I’m about to go home empty-handed. Only divine providence would change things now, by placing a pig in my trail on the way back to the truck.

From my position, I can see that the hogs on Speckmisser Ridge are still meandering around and getting closer to the top. I realize that it will take me better than 45 minutes to get to them from here. There are only about 30 minutes of shoot time left, so I raise Dave on the radio. “How close are you to your truck?” I ask him.

“Ten minutes,” he replies. “Why?”

“There are pigs all over Speckmisser Ridge. If you can get there before shoot time is out, you ought to get a shot.”

“I’m on my way.”

Ten minutes later, I see his tail lights bouncing down the road. I look at my watch. He can make it. Ten minutes later, three shots ring out from the top of the ridge. Dog! But then the radio crackles again. “I missed the damned thing,” Dave reports.

Ripping yet another page out of my Standard Operating Procedures manual, I walk back to the truck before shoot time is over. I’m done for the weekend. My streak is broken.

Back at camp, bloody fate twists her dagger in my guts just a little more. Somehow, against all odds, Georg spotted, stalked, and killed a nice sow in the place where I sent him. Ozstryker also managed to kill a hog. And to top it all off, Joe, after his baptism in the hog wallow and changing into dry clothes at his truck, spotted a hog crossing the road on his way back to camp. He got out of the truck, re-assembled his rifle (he’d taken it apart to clean the mud out) and shot the hog!

That does it! I’ll never hunt Tejon Ranch again!

 

[joe90605]

Speck,

Now I know you are truly an evil man!!!!

Thanks for helping me scare up them hawgs!!!

 

[beastslayer]

Speck - I'll send it to Outdoor Life if you'll agree to do the write-up. While I'm an advertising major and aced my Creative Writing 101, I cannot hold a candle to you. Besides, if you would not agree, I'll have to cross-out your name as a co-author to these 3 installment tale of JHO Tejon Hunt which I'm already mailing out to Field & Steam. Thanks for completing Part III before FedEx closes its counter.

Yeah right, you're not hunting again. How come Barbara told me you in the list for POR this weekend after Joe Clutch backed out?

Coues - You got me there man! Ok here it is. As I was leaving for Tejon my wife says: "You can't go. It's mother's day". And the blow came after I replied: "Yeah, it mother's day. BUT YOU ARE NOT MY MOTHER."

Speck - If I have a $5,500 rifle, it gets to be kept at my bedside under a warm comforter. And my wife will be sleeping on the floor.

 

[spectr17]

<div class='quotetop'>QUOTE </div>

"I'm in this mud, and I'm stuck. I think I'm going to have to try to crawl out."[/b]

<In best Bluto from Animal House voice> I now annoit thee, "Baptism Under Fire"

I'd of give anything to of heard that radio conversation

 

[upper]

On the first hog you shot at,where those Bay bullets,that you had to change out for Catch bullets.I use the same for both! Upper

 

[Rancho Loco]

I'm loving these stories..

I wish I coulda stuck around to see the final hogs, but I had to make a run for the gate at the first opportunity.

Good fun, good folks, good tequila..I'm ready to go back.

 

[joe90605]

Mr. Spectr17,

You must help me change my handle to JoeMud!!!!

Joe90605

 

[Speckmisser]

<div class='quotetop'>QUOTE </div>

That does it! I’ll never hunt Tejon Ranch again![/b]

Yeah, right!

Spoke to Barbara on Saturday when she dropped by camp (She loved the skinning pole, Rich... and extends a hearty THANK-YOU!), and discussed next year's hunt. The schedule for the regular PORs is already set, so as soon as she gets done with the May POR, we'll talk about the dates for next year.

Right now, I'm leaning toward another May hunt. I'll try not to set us on Mother's Day again, but the end of May is pretty hot, and I don't think they'll do any hunts in April. March is too close to rainy season, and I will not schedule another hunt at that ranch in the rain.

 

[XDHUNTER]

SPECK,

PUT ME ON TOP OF THE LIST WHAT EVER DATE DECIDED .


XD