South Africans ! Can’t live with ‘em…….or so Robbie tells me, - and having married the lovely Tracey, I guess he’d know.
Anyway, Traceys’ brother William has been over visiting for a couple of the RWC games, and was keen to see a bit of country. After a tiki tour around the Canterbury area, the team hitched up at our place about lunchtime one Friday, eager for a hunt that afternoon.
Ross and Trev were schooled up but work demands, and the All Black game that night, meant it was going to be short and sweet.
Four pm had us all, plus a few mutts, well up Trev’s hill and sidling along the same track where Rob had shot his first pig with a bow.
Ross and Rob had the rellies with them up front, whilst Trev and I were pottering along somewhere in their wake.
The cell phone duly rang with news that the dogs were chasing something down in the pines below us, and that we should stake out a couple of the more well defined pig crossings we had seen.
We quickly sorted out a couple of ambush spots and patiently waited for action. The odd bark miles down the valley had us wondering about this option when Ross and Rob thundered past down the track, soon followed by the South African contingent. The news was the dogs were onto something alright but for us to stay put and keep our eyes opened.
Suited me, let some other bugger do the running.
I changed positions to a small knob, and then flattened out some scrub for a better look at the pig crossing. One up the spout and peepers on wide beam – ready as!
A shot cracked out from the old boy up the hill a bit, so I assumed I might also see some action before long.
Several minutes passed before I could faintly hear panting down in the pines as something approached the crossing. As it got louder I assumed dog but was thinking it sounded pretty determined so something else was probably not too far ahead.
The old finger was starting to get just a touch twitchy when I heard a couple of sticks break further up the track and a good pig broke out right where I had previously been standing. It immediately turned and ran towards me before bolting thru a wire fence and disappearing into the scrub come bush.
I touched off the 243 just as the beast went thru some bracken, and then lost sight of the result. I heard a bit of noise as the pig moved off a short distance and then silence. Sounded promising, and got even better when Fred went steaming past hot on the pigs’ track.
He was back less than a minute later and just collapsed at my feet……a bit tuckered out it would seem!
The obvious conclusion was that the pig had departed for the spirit world, and I just had to employ a few tracking skills to find its final resting place.
I quickly found a very strong blood trail, and with Freds help, soon located the pig hung up in a fallen pine tree, at the bottom of a small bluff in the bush. A bit of a scramble down but I was stoked to find a really fat sow of around 100 lbs. Plenty of top notch pork for all.
A tricky 10 minutes of shagging around followed, whilst I extricated myself and the pork from under the tree, and around to a flat bit of ground for the tidy up and carry.
Ross and Rob arrived for a look soon after and then headed off to try and ambush something in the next gully around. The SA’s were off with Trev apparently.
Anyway, that pig seemed heavy and I gave up carrying halfway back to the truck, and just dragged it up the last steep bit of track.
Another cell phone call, another run to a vantage point as the dogs were chasing again. This time the pig did a u turn and got snaffled right back below where the troops were waiting on the track. Good stuff, Rob went down and finished the business and soon reappeared with a fat 50 lber over his shoulders.
The Boers were impressed……man provideth for his woman !
I quickly burst his bubble by casually drawing their attention to the large black obstruction at the top of the hill. Ooohh, aargh – now that’s a pig !
A few laughs and a bit more of the taking of the proverbial ensued as we headed back to the truck. Trev couldn’t find any trace of hitting the pig he fired at, but was able to confirm it wasn’t the same animal I had shot.
Back at the chiller the butchery was soon in full swing and chilly bins loaded up for the trip north the next day. The sow weighed 119 lb and was covered in fat…beautiful !
The beer was cold, the rugby good, and the sleep sound…….its a tough life !
Ciao
BJH
