I went out last night for a bit of last minute hunting before the baby shows up tomorrow or the next day. It was a quick after work run out to Farmer Joe’s #2 with the big boss man. I had been jonesin to get bloody before I became a daddy and it paid off on this little trip.
We hopped up in the tree and were having a beer and talking, not using our library voices. We were busted just about right off the bat by 2 nice 100lbers who paused at about 40yds when we spied them. “PIGS!” maybe a bit louder than necessary…guns up and they scampered. So we hunkered down and the conversation pretty well ceased, words spoken were now at church mouse dB.
The brush and trees have been at mad work putting on their leaves and as such, much of the view was obstructed. I monkeyed my way up the tree with a beverage and a pistol to see what I could see. From the crow’s nest the view changes quite a bit and I felt I could own all I surveyed if only something would show up.
Then there they were. About 10 mins before dark there were 5 pigs standing stock still at about 40yds. I had looked at that exact spot only seconds before and it was vacant, the winds just wisped them in…and there they were.
I began to throw sticks at the boss man to get his attention and used my best improvised hand signals to explain the situation. They began to circle around and I thought he may be soon provided the shot. I had the shot but in the interest of my career I felt I should wait. In hindsight I do see the humour in playing Guide ‘Alan style’ and without a word just blasting them on sight and just saying “Sorry, you should have seen them faster than me”. But I played the nice guy and waited it out while the stars began to take the stage.
I had a varied view through the next several minutes, maybe a few opportunities for some shots but nothing perfect. The darkness is rolling in fast; the bare eye can pick up movement but not clearly discern stationary objects. The 4x is your amigo in these moments while time becomes your enemy, and so we were… waiting.
I found the chance, set the trigger, and asked if I was alone with this opportunity, the response, “Take em”
My little .222 barked and brush erupted as the pig faltered. I shucked another round and tried to pick up a second but the darkness and the heavy brush held nothing but noise. I panned back over to the downed pig to find he had found his feet and was profusely shaking his head. This did not sit well with me so I gave him another dose of the deuce to anchor him.
We celebrated with some 5s and made our way over to the beastie while I recounted the shot and explained I took the smaller of the two as it provided the head shot I needed. The other was a fair bit larger. When we got up on the bruiser I realized I made the right decision as this dude took most of what we had to drag it the 40yds to the fence. To be honest we drug it about 30yds and had a beer break while I got the truck and a rope to pull it the remainder.
Nearly ruptured something below my belt while we were trying to load it and decided that gutting at the fence line was the only logical solution. That helped some but it still took longer than I’d like to recount to get the carcass in the truck.
Good times!
