Well I wish I could say I planned it this way, but it just worked out this way...
We only had a short 1.5 days to hunt so I jammed up to the ranch with my bro. Bro wanted a good one, and I just wanted one. I had told an Italian buddy at my gym that I would bring him home a wild pig as he was longing for some traditional homeland dishes.
After a hellacious middle of the night packout last time with my brother, my only request was that he not kill me again with the haul out. Right after first light we got on a good herd of nice ones in an easy spot. It was not meant to be. Numbnuts lines up with a dead rest on a rock for a 110 yard chip shot, and chokes. A miss and they all bail.
We move over a few ridges and look into a steep and deep canyon. I was afraid to look there in the first place, but last time there were pigs up at the top. This time there was a big loner hanging out not far from the top. We discuss it and while I don't like it, it should be workable, with one big if. DO NOT roll that pig any further down the canyon. With firm instructions to get in close for a good shot and to anchor the pig on the spot, off goes Taylor on the stalk.
I lose sight of him after a couple hundred yards of sidehilling. A few minutes go by and I am watching the hog root around. Then I see it go dick up, and hear the shot. Knocked off it's feet it starts rolling, and rolling, and rolling. Out of sight. I kept saying to myself, no, no, no, stop! Stop! It didn't. Of course it missed hundreds of trees and stumps that could have stopped it, but no. It kept going. Into the abyss. One lone root finally stopped it, a few feet from the bottom. Gee thanks. Of course the canyon is roadless so any animal has to come back out and UP.
I move the Jeep a little closer down the ridgeline. And take off with my pack down into the hole. Further and further. I kept thinking I'd see my bro and the pig with each roll of the hill, but no, down and down I went. Sliding mostly in the soft and rooted up soil. Finally I spot movement. I have to use my binos to look way down into the bottom to see my bro waving at me. WTF!
I finally get down there and throw up in my mouth a little. Oh shoot, this is going to suck. This was the warrior of the canyon. Old and wore out. Huge, super long, but a little skinny, past his prime. Hardly any molar teeth left. We took pics as we tried to keep the beast from rolling and sliding down further. There was no moving this thing. The two of us could hardly even get it positioned for a decent photo. We did our best.
45 minutes later, I had it totally boned out and loaded into our packs. Took 2 hours to crawl out of that hole and back up to the Jeep at the top of the ridge. Sometimes on all fours. 5-6 steps at a time, rest, repeat. It was brutal. I wont take him hunting anymore if he keeps this crap up.
Then that evening we head out so I can do a little grocery shopping for my buddy. I spy a perfect eater boar all by itself. I've been wanting to shoot something with a little carbine .44 mag lever action I bought a while back, so I grabbed it and took off up the hill. The wind was bad to come in from above like I wanted to, so I had to risk it coming in from below. I got to about 60 yards, and he got squirrely, looking down at me. I could only see the top half of him as he was standing in a dug out trail. I took a pop and missed high. That was a stretch with a big ghost ring sight and not much to aim at. On to find another.
We had just enough time to maybe get to another honey hole with only about 25 minutes of light left. We get into the zone and spot a good herd, but in an open area. No good way to get close enough for the bow or the cowboy gun. We were running out of time and I had a job to do so I grabbed the -06. And I really wanted to get an early jump on holiday traffic instead of hunting in the morning, if I could help it. Getting through LA the day before Thanksgiving is nothing you'd put your worst enemy through.
I got to about 125 yards and the herd started moving. I plopped down on my ass. The crosshairs found a nice plump sow that I figured would be a good eater, but then the barrel of the gun magically swung to the rear of the herd. Not sure how it did that. There was a sluggo bringing up the rear. The magic crosshairs somehow found the point of the boars shoulder and the magic rifle roared. The herd took off, over a rise and out of sight. I was doubting things for a minute, but Taylor said he saw dust fly off the pig's shoulder. I ran to catch up and as I crested the ridge they went over he was down. Holy crap, two giants in one day? Fortunately, this one was only 250 yards from a road, but that was uphill, of course, so it was still a cut and stuff mission.
I'm tired.
We only had a short 1.5 days to hunt so I jammed up to the ranch with my bro. Bro wanted a good one, and I just wanted one. I had told an Italian buddy at my gym that I would bring him home a wild pig as he was longing for some traditional homeland dishes.
After a hellacious middle of the night packout last time with my brother, my only request was that he not kill me again with the haul out. Right after first light we got on a good herd of nice ones in an easy spot. It was not meant to be. Numbnuts lines up with a dead rest on a rock for a 110 yard chip shot, and chokes. A miss and they all bail.
We move over a few ridges and look into a steep and deep canyon. I was afraid to look there in the first place, but last time there were pigs up at the top. This time there was a big loner hanging out not far from the top. We discuss it and while I don't like it, it should be workable, with one big if. DO NOT roll that pig any further down the canyon. With firm instructions to get in close for a good shot and to anchor the pig on the spot, off goes Taylor on the stalk.
I lose sight of him after a couple hundred yards of sidehilling. A few minutes go by and I am watching the hog root around. Then I see it go dick up, and hear the shot. Knocked off it's feet it starts rolling, and rolling, and rolling. Out of sight. I kept saying to myself, no, no, no, stop! Stop! It didn't. Of course it missed hundreds of trees and stumps that could have stopped it, but no. It kept going. Into the abyss. One lone root finally stopped it, a few feet from the bottom. Gee thanks. Of course the canyon is roadless so any animal has to come back out and UP.
I move the Jeep a little closer down the ridgeline. And take off with my pack down into the hole. Further and further. I kept thinking I'd see my bro and the pig with each roll of the hill, but no, down and down I went. Sliding mostly in the soft and rooted up soil. Finally I spot movement. I have to use my binos to look way down into the bottom to see my bro waving at me. WTF!
I finally get down there and throw up in my mouth a little. Oh shoot, this is going to suck. This was the warrior of the canyon. Old and wore out. Huge, super long, but a little skinny, past his prime. Hardly any molar teeth left. We took pics as we tried to keep the beast from rolling and sliding down further. There was no moving this thing. The two of us could hardly even get it positioned for a decent photo. We did our best.
45 minutes later, I had it totally boned out and loaded into our packs. Took 2 hours to crawl out of that hole and back up to the Jeep at the top of the ridge. Sometimes on all fours. 5-6 steps at a time, rest, repeat. It was brutal. I wont take him hunting anymore if he keeps this crap up.
Then that evening we head out so I can do a little grocery shopping for my buddy. I spy a perfect eater boar all by itself. I've been wanting to shoot something with a little carbine .44 mag lever action I bought a while back, so I grabbed it and took off up the hill. The wind was bad to come in from above like I wanted to, so I had to risk it coming in from below. I got to about 60 yards, and he got squirrely, looking down at me. I could only see the top half of him as he was standing in a dug out trail. I took a pop and missed high. That was a stretch with a big ghost ring sight and not much to aim at. On to find another.
We had just enough time to maybe get to another honey hole with only about 25 minutes of light left. We get into the zone and spot a good herd, but in an open area. No good way to get close enough for the bow or the cowboy gun. We were running out of time and I had a job to do so I grabbed the -06. And I really wanted to get an early jump on holiday traffic instead of hunting in the morning, if I could help it. Getting through LA the day before Thanksgiving is nothing you'd put your worst enemy through.
I got to about 125 yards and the herd started moving. I plopped down on my ass. The crosshairs found a nice plump sow that I figured would be a good eater, but then the barrel of the gun magically swung to the rear of the herd. Not sure how it did that. There was a sluggo bringing up the rear. The magic crosshairs somehow found the point of the boars shoulder and the magic rifle roared. The herd took off, over a rise and out of sight. I was doubting things for a minute, but Taylor said he saw dust fly off the pig's shoulder. I ran to catch up and as I crested the ridge they went over he was down. Holy crap, two giants in one day? Fortunately, this one was only 250 yards from a road, but that was uphill, of course, so it was still a cut and stuff mission.
I'm tired.
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