Another Monday Morning and I Ain’t Got No Piggy
Boy, that’s probably the dumbest topic title I’ve done in a while. Oh well, it rang in my mind and now I’ve shared it…
Anyway, true to form, after walking several miles and several thousand feet of elevation gain and loss, I’m sitting here getting ready for another work week. The ice chest won’t need to be cleaned this afternoon, and my butchering tools will stay in the drawer. Porky evaded me once again.
The world is full of “what-ifs”, and such was this trip. IF I had been using a rifle instead of the Mathews, I could have killed several pigs. I practically ran one down in the road yesterday morning, but there’s no way I could have leapt from Petunia, unlimbered the bow, nocked an arrow, and got a clean shot at him as he boogied up the ridge. IF it were gun season on the ranch (it opens next weekend) I would have had the .44 on hand, and would have had no problem taking that boar. Likewise, the group of 15 that fed down across canyon from me. At 200 yards, they remained oblivious to me as they fed on an open shelf, in the wide open at 1100 hrs. I could have plopped down with the rifle and a rest and taken my pick. With the bow, I have to get a little closer than that. Unfortunately, at about 150 yards, I practically stepped on a group of deer who proceeded to bolt right through the feeding hogs. At last glance, the hogs were just shy of Mach 1, and disappearing back over the high ridge and headed toward the safety of the property line.
Not that it was a bad trip, because there’s seldom a bad hunting trip… it was really nice. It was my first solo hunt in quite a while, and as much as I enjoy guiding and taking people hunting, sometimes it’s really good just to get out there and not have to think about anyone else’s experience. It was relaxing just to walk and hunt, and enjoy all the things you see on a beautiful, cold November morning. There were grouse, band-tailed pigeons, quail, eagles, coyotes, tons of deer, and lots of smaller critters. The salamanders were on the move, an annual event I’ve been told, and there were times when it was hard to walk without stepping on one.
And there was pig sign… oh brother, was there pig sign! The recent rain had softened the ground, and the hogs were taking full advantage of it. Hilltops were rototilled, and tracks and scat littered the ground. The only problem was, for the most part, I was consistently where they were, instead of where they are. Tracks are great and all, but they’re best when they still have pig feet in them.
Anyway, it doesn’t really matter if I killed a pig. I still have two freezers loaded with meat. I was actually hoping for a turkey, for Thanksgiving, but they were pretty scarce up there this weekend. I thought I heard some once, but never could locate the danged things. I don’t think I tried all that hard anyway. It was just good to go, to be out there. I need that sometimes. I think we all do.
Getting out there alone is a beautiful thing, even if you come home empty-handed. I relish those solo hunts.
November 23rd, 2009 at 6:43 am
It sounds like you had a great time, Phillip. And even though you didn’t bring home a hog, it still is worth it just to be out there.
Bowhunting is tough, that is for sure. And, for me anyway, gun season is even tougher. I have yet to see a deer in three sits. Because of that I have to keep telling myself, “it’s all about being out here”, otherwise I might go insane:):)
November 23rd, 2009 at 8:22 am
Yupp. Big fun all the way around. There was a point yesterday, as I was watching that group of hogs, that I really had second thoughts about killing one.
It was mid-day and to reach those hogs I would end up about two miles from the truck… almost all downhill. The hogs were only a little over 500 yards from me in a straight line, but that line crossed a steep and deep canyon. Just getting there to make the shot was gonna be a nightmare, and then I’d have to bloodtrail and collect the animal.
To recover the hog, I’d have had to hike back up to the truck, fetch the backpack and game bags (I had my little catquiver/pack, which would never hold a pig), then hike back down to the animal, bone it out, and then hike back up the mountain. By the time I would have been done, it would have easily been after dark, and I still had a three hour drive home.
Even so, 20 minutes later I was almost to the bottom of that canyon and still locked in on those hogs. The last hundred yards or so was steep and slick, so the only way to the bottom was to slide (glissade) in the mud and wet leaves. I’d just completed the slide to the bottom I ran into the deer who promptly ran up the hill into the hogs, and the hogs, not knowing what the deer were running from, decided they didn’t want to get eaten either.
November 23rd, 2009 at 3:51 pm
Still, even with no harvest, a great story Phillip!
Wish I could have been there!
November 23rd, 2009 at 4:44 pm