Tejon POR Updates

[ozstriker22]

To be quite honest, I am sure I could have stalked up on the pig I shot... but it was my first animal, and when I got in range, I drilled it without hesitating. Next time I'll try to use the .44

Jesse.

 

[BOWUNTR]

Keep me posted on the JHO archery hunt. I wanna play too. Reading this post really makes my fever boil. Congrats to all.

Ed F

 

[larrysogla]

Mr. SpeckM,
After thoroughly enjoying your jesty storytelling, it was just too bad that the master organizer didn't plug a piggie. Oh well.....as you say, that is hunting, not killing. Much obliged for the entertaining stories and accounts of piggie land chases and caramaderie extraordinaire.......Huh!!!! Or was that fueled by those red cups full of milk. Uhmmmm........milk for growing boys eh???.....yeah right. Well looks like the Tejon event is a smashing success with all the good folks congregating and them good 'ol boys giving all those Tejon piggies a rattle in the rib cage if not a hole in the heart. Amazing isn't it that such high forbidding terrain could populate so many multiplying piggies. 'Nuff said. God Bless y'all.

 

[beastslayer]

Can we have a count on who else owes us their stories and pictures?

Don't anybody make an excuse that their story had been covered by Speck!

 

[Jagermeister]

Beastslayer:

Did you kill your hog with the leverevolution ammo that I brougth for your 30-30?

George

 

[Speckmisser]

Apologies for the delay but...

Those of you who put in for the handgun pool (Superduty, Rancho Loco, BDB, and Beastslayer) will be receiving a refund in the mail sometime by the end of the week.

Scott Jagerman, again, congrats on that HUGE pig... the big pig pool is coming to you as well.

To all who hunted, whether you participated in the pool or not, it was a great time. Hope to see all of you out there again next year!

 

[beastslayer]

Jagermeister,

That's the fog of war (against hogs) I was trying to unravel. I alternately put in the tubular magazine my old Win Powerpoint 150 grain and the LeverEvolution that I bought from you.

I'm sure one of them is the LeverEvolution. What I'm not sure of, is which bullet did it for that deadly first shot that shattered the front-leg bones and vaporises the upper portion of the heart. I'm open for offers from either Winchester or Hornady (lol).

Those franks in the picture looks good and yummy with a Lager. Enjoy!

 

[Rancho Loco]

<div class='quotetop'>QUOTE (Speckmisser @ May 23 2006, 08:17 AM) <{POST_SNAPBACK}></div>

Apologies for the delay but...

Those of you who put in for the handgun pool (Superduty, Rancho Loco, BDB, and Beastslayer) will be receiving a refund in the mail sometime by the end of the week.

Scott Jagerman, again, congrats on that HUGE pig... the big pig pool is coming to you as well.

To all who hunted, whether you participated in the pool or not, it was a great time. Hope to see all of you out there again next year![/b]

Hey - I got a shot off, does that count?

 

[beastslayer]

I'm willing to give the award to Rancho if he spilled just a drop of blood of the hog when he made the shot.

 

[Rancho Loco]

I don't know about spilling blood, but I do know I scared the s#$! out of it.

 

[Jagermeister]

Spilling menure does not count, sorry!

 

[beastslayer]

Did it died of fright? I can concede that technicality.

Jagermeister - That's a good one ("...spilling manure...")!

 

[snoopdogg]

Goodness, I just read these posts today. Great storytelling folks, really. Sounds like you boys had a great friggin' time. Many kudos.

 

[beastslayer]

I can agree Snoopdogg.

Speck's writing is better reading than Outdoor Life and Field & Stream. (Now I'm sucking up for my invite for next year's POR).

 

[Tonopah01]

Report from my nephew:

We rose at 4:10 a.m. and headed up the road to Don’s Pond, one of the many land marks most likely named for one of the guys who runs the Tejon wildlife management department. The group was in unusually good spirits and humor for the morning hunt on the last day. We’ve been there before and have left with pigs on the last day of the Pig ‘O Rama. It always seems to be the morning of the last day that we draw blood as if the pigs are willingly participating in building the suspense. The drive to higher elevation doesn’t seem as long as it used to. Familiarity seems to make time pass.

We made a point of getting into the field before they grazed from the fields to the thicker cover which is, like the proverbial “other side of the tracks,” separated by the dirt road leading to the area. The first half hour following sun up is not only the time in which you are most likely to catch them on the move but missing that time seems to plant the seed of doubt that you already missed them and that you’re now setting a useless and time wasting ambush for that which has come and gone. That’s just bad for morale.

We arrived at the top of the hill within a half hour after legal shooting time. I made my way down the road on foot to where I had seen fresh sign the day before - cloven tracks in soft sand which, if they were old, would have eroded from wind or rain or would have hardened under the sun. The smell of pigs was also present, but that is rather subjective and hard to sell to others as a reason to spend the last hunt in the same place where they didn’t see anything yesterday.

After stopping to tighten my boot laces, I paused on two hills each time convinced that this is the hill I wanted and then second guessing those conclusions. Ten to twenty minutes after starting down the road, I found a hill which was flanked by two draws which run perpendicular to the road and which run down into the fields from where the pigs will come. The battle plan is ambush. We’re not fast, we’re not strong, but we are smart and that is the human advantage.

I walked to the narrowing point of my hill that would overlook both of its sides when I heard the first shot. Then I heard the second. I looked to the larger hill on the left which forms the other side of the shallow draw across from my hill expecting to see pigs running down the larger hill either toward the fields or up my draw and across the road into the thick cover. That is exactly what they did on the last hunt and that is exaclty what they did this time. One great thing about instinct is that it is predictable. In fact, I was on the same hill.

Rather than come straight down, about eight black pigs hugged the crest of the large hill until they broke down hill towards the road, towards cover and safety. I was not in a position to intercept them without taking a long shot. I was carrying “Natasha,” my Springfield M1A Scout Rifle with an aperture sight. No optics. I had to move quickly which is not as easy as it sounds given the two foot high grain, obscured divets, fallen oak limbs, and historic lack of commitment to cardiovascular activity. However, I did my best and that proved sufficient. I ran and I ran for what seemed like minutes and miles but was seconds and a no more than a score of yards.

The pigs broke clear of the concealment of the oaks covering the higher elevation of the higher hill and I had my chance. Far from ideal and far from impossible I had to take my shot without dwelling on the decision. I dropped my pack in stride and slid down onto my right knee with my left knee bent and left foot planted. The safety disengaged with an affirmative “snick” and the rear aperture and front post, the sufficiency of which I often doubted, came to bear with ease. The front post moved from the first pig it found to the largest which presented a viable shot. “Click.” Nothing happened. Safety engaged? No. Chamber empty? No. Bolt not fully closed? Maybe. Misfire? Seems likely but we’ll never know because I never went back to collect the round. What did matter was to fix the problem and as soon as freak’n possible. I yanked the rod handle, ejected the useless round and chambered a fresh cartridge.

My right knee was planted and me left foot wasn’t going anywhere either. I swung my torso left and up toward the road where the pigs sought their egress to the point where the strain in my back was noticeable and I fired. No appreciable effect. I fired again and, again, no appreciable effect. Planting my left hand as I continued torquing my upper body away from where my knee and foot pointed and I got up and ran to pursue at an angle that would give me one more shot. A quartering shot was the only chance. So I thought.

Sometimes the unexpected happens. The large pig I had selected broke from the heard and veered left short of the road; she (as I later learned) kept veering left and kept veering - back towards me. Oblivious to what in hind site was a charge, I dropped to a knee again placed the post just below her chin and fired. She went down in the tall grain and like Jason after taking the presumed final blow to end the movie in “Friday the 13th” rose straight up as if defying the laws of physics and biology. An open wound was clearly visible low in her throat. Another round was placed right next to the first and shatterd the off side shoulder. She went down again disappearing in the tall grain. The action locked open but she kept struggling to regain its feet, struggling to live and gain more ground in my direction. Sickened by the adrenalin and the fact that she took 5,296 pounds to center mass and kept coming while my rifle was empty, I ran back to my pack to grab one, at least one, more .308 Winchester round. I stuffed the last round I had available into the chamber through the ejection port and descended upon the downed and struggling animal. I put a third bullet into her throat. We both knew it was over. The remaining kicks were futile.

After dragging the carcass back to the road I field dressed the sow. She was big. She was really big. The procedure yielded the following: her snout was lacerated diagnally from one bullet and another round cracked diagnally through the snout appearing to exit the right nostril. These were the two first shots taken from the kneeling, pivoting position. Those wounds were about 1” apart. There was a rather large ragged and incomplete hole in the lower left throat which was clearly the product of the last three shots. The first neck shot appears to have pierced her heart as a large exit wound was visible when the heart was removed and the bullet was recovered in the lower abdomen. Remington’s 150 grain Ultra Core-Lokt penatrated about three to three and a half feet of hog. Welcome to Remington Country. The second two shots were to the neck but struck the off (right) shoulder shattering it and ending the encounter.

What is curious is why she broke away from the herd which had reached the road. She had made it. The shot penatrating the snout would probably have proved fatal. She wouldn’t have be able to feed even if she didn’t bleed out or die of infection. But she’s not a vetranarian and survivial instinct, of which she had plenty, would have kept her from quitting. But, she broke from the heard and circled back in my direction. Although I did not feel that she was coming for me at all, the fatal bullet entered the throat, eviscerated the heart and came to rest in the lower abdomen. That is indicative of a frontal shot. The round could have entered the throat, struck the off shoulder, and internally ricocheted through the heart and angled into the abdominal cavity. Such a chain of events would likely lead to a predominately fragmented projectile. However, the bullet is more than 90% intact. It mushroomed perfectly and a segment of the core was also found in the middle abdomen. The current theory is that she was threatened, wounded, and displeased with my continued existance. In short, she was neither afraid of nor impressed with me. She turned to fight and charged.

Supporting this theory is her size and aggressive armament for a sow. Field dressed, she weighed in at 196 pounds. Stripped to bone and meat the butcher weighed the carcass in at 140 pounds. Her tentative estimated weight on the hoof is 260 pounds. Additionally, sows usually do not have large cutters (upper teeth used for combat) and hers were 1” exposed. Many Tejon guides thought she was a large boar. Lastly, her hide was littered with scars which are presumed to have been caused by other pigs be they boar or sow.

Tonapah Flash commented that the number of shots heard sounded like a gun fight. I go back and forth over whether I did a good job. I fired five times. That’s bad. I struck her 5 times. That’s good. Two shots were not fatal. That’s bad. Those two shots were taken from an unexpected and improvised position due to the initial failure to fire and measured about 1? apart. That’s good. The fatal shot was center mass and pierced the heart. That’s good. She got up again. That’s bad but more of a testament to her tenacity than my fault. I guess that’s good, sorta. The second neck shot went through the same enterance wound more or less. That’s good. She kept trying to get up. That’s bad but, again, not my fault. I guess we can interpret the same facts differently. In all, I wish that first round had discharged. One shot is all it should take. Then again, there’s many a slip twixt a cup and a lip and that’s what keeps us coming back. Besides, how many other people can go back to work in LA on Monday and actaully have a good response to, “So, what’d you do this weekend?”

 

[beastslayer]

nrifenbark,

Nice story, good writing.

M1 does that. Sometimes the slide would not close totally. But that's just my theory and 1cent worth.

Which POR did your nephew joined?

 

[larrysogla]

Nrifenbark,
That was a masterful, riveting tale of the tail. Superb story telling. I loved every minute of the blow by blow suspenseful, detailed account. Wow!!!! We have some writers par excellence in here. Thanks for posting your sizzling story. It was wonner'ful. I have the M-1 Garand and the M-1 Carbine and both will have the bolt to be released from full draw and allowed to sling and slam forward for a most assured, positive chambering and bolt locked, ready to fire condition. I also, in addition to allowing to let the bolt sling and slam fully forward, rap vigourously with the palm of my hand the back of the bolt handle for good measure, just to reassure myself that the round is chambered and the bolt locked and ready to fire. Thanks much for your kindness in sharing your story. God Bless.

 

[The Savage Rabbit]

Probably the best thing anyone has ever posted to the internet anywhere

 

[ozstriker22]

Yet again... another incredible, well written story from JHO Ham Slam.

Thanks for sharing... I look forward to dropping my first critter with the ole M1A.

Jesse

 

[Tonopah01]

The Rifenbark clan hunted Tejon during the May 19-21 POR. We were on the North side. Jack, my nephew (who wrote the wordy but worthy post above) killed his pig at about 6:15 AM on Sunday the 21st. I dropped mine a few minutes earlier. My shot (.308 180 grain) was at about 15 feet. The hog was going by me left to right and did not see me until it was too late as I was sitting against a large log. My shot hit her in the neck and she went down hard but came up three times and for a moment I thought she was actually going to run successfully after the other pigs in the group. A second shot to the neck ended that. This was my first pig and I was pretty happy with leaving Tejon with some meat (for a change). We kept the meat cold and got both pigs it to the butcher in good shape.