“She’ll be right mate”, was my response to “what? You’re not taking a gun?”
But no, the .44 was in pieces (lots more pieces than I anticipated) awaiting “cleaning”, .243 getting threaded for suppressor, .223 also at the gun smith and there was no way I was going to use the 7mm rem mag over the dogs.
“She’ll be right mate”, was my response to “what? You’re not taking a gun?”
But no, the .44 was in pieces (lots more pieces than I anticipated) awaiting “cleaning”, .243 getting threaded for suppressor, .223 also at the gun smith and there was no way I was going to use the 7mm rem mag over the dogs.
I’m not running holders but the two bailers I’m running are hard enough when they need to be. No sweat.
The plan was to head in for a quick one nighter on Doc land and being June I was expecting Hinau berries thick on the ground and all things being equal a few porkers taking advantage of then seasons offerings.
It was around about 3.30pm that I left the car park with a light over night pack on. An hour and a 400 metre vertical climb later I was heading towards the promised land and a bit of sign was becoming evident, little rub here, nose hole there. Nothing to get too excited about but we were on the right track. I watched the tracking gear with a passing interest as Fern flicked out here and there off the track then worked her way around the face to the spur opposite the one I was traveling. I was surprised to hear a bark drift up in the evening air as Fern being a fairly hard as far as bailers go isn’t the type of a dog to fluff around unless it’s a good pig; but no problem nothing we can’t handle.
At the bark young Ziggy was off to investigate what the fuss was all about.
The tempo lifted when the pup arrived at the scene and having seen only 10-15 pigs I was really pleased to see him going to the bark and getting stuck in, so now with two dogs bailing I picked my way down the steep spur laced with the occasional dead fall Punga, Hinau and sparse supplejack.
As I got close to the bail I loaded my trusty…. Oh no that’s right no gun. As I got close to the bail I checked my knife was in place thinking Fern would go in for a hold when she saw me but when I gingerly poked my head around the trunk of the Hinau tree they were bailing under it became obvious as to why the Kuris were keeping their distance.
The scene that confronted me is the reason pig hunters do what they do, the vet bills, the early starts, the head aches and the heart ache. – a big black boar, hackle’s up grinding a good set of hooks and deciding what dog to have a crack at. In this instance it was Fern, which is lucky as Ziggy being fairly new to all this was liable to get himself in some trouble, Fern knew the drill though darting out of the way in the nick of time.
Sneaking in and grabbing a back leg was out of the question due to the open bush offering no way of getting out of the way should he turn last minute.
While I was pondering my next step the battle moved down the face into a tangle of supplejack and punga, still no chance at sneaking in and grabbing a leg. Do I have enough rope to try a lasso?
Off with the pack, I unearth a tooth brush, a tin of coffee, a sleeping bag, half a ham sandwich and a meter of bailing twine. I don’t fancy my chances. How about this roll of medical tape though?
I cut down a lancewood, trimmed the greenery off the top and set about taping my knife to the end, making a makeshift spear. While I had been fluffing around getting this sorted the battle had again moved down hill with both dogs bailing well.
Sneaking into the bail on a small terrace of pepper wood and supple jack I thought I was in with a chance, the hounds had him bailed along side a big fallen tree. Approaching as quietly as I could I tried to sneak around beside him to get a good angle for the spear, almost there, just this little patch of supple jack to get through and… My plan’s been sprung.
In a flash he’s on me, he launches, mouth agape, tusks unsheathed and lined up with my left calf. “This is not good” I think, as I prepare for impact.
A split second before he hit me Fern came flying in grabbing an ear, turning him away from me and starting an almighty scrap, now is my chance but my spear gets tangled in the supplejack. I could drop my spear and grab him but then I wont have a knife thus rendering me as much use as a chocolate tea pot.
Again he makes a break, this time he holes up on a swampy Kei Kei terrace. As I make my way through the tangle I find his wallow – this is his home turf, he has made a stand here for a reason. I drop my pack and locate my torch. By this time it is around 5.30pm and getting dark under the canopy.
Approaching the scene, I find the dogs bailing in a small clearing amongst the Kei Kei, all that is visible of the quarry in his snout protruding from from the seemingly impenetrable tangle.
A small Mahoe has grown on an angle out over the clearing. Spear in hand I climb out over the clearing via a spindly limb, assessing the situation in appears my best bet is to wait for a charge from the irate boar and attempt to land my spear.
My chance comes moments later as he erupts from the Kei Kei set on Ziggy who easily darts aside leaving the boar exposed in the clearing. Leaning as far out as my perch as I dare I lunge with the spear hitting high in the shoulder, higher than I wanted, but he simply shrugs it of like nothing happened and takes to chasing the dogs around the clearing a few laps before disappearing back into the Kei Kei.
As he made an exit I noticed him clip a front hock on a fallen branch, as minor as this may seem I knew it was a sign he was beginning to flail. The bail moved away from the clearing and deeper into the sea of Kei Kei, leaving the safety of my tree I pushed forward towards the sound of grinding tusks and bailing dogs.
The dogs heard me approaching and this coupled with the boar beginning to weaken, was Ferns que to go in for a final hold. I break on to the scene where a melee of dogs and pig have flattened a small clearing next to the wallow I passed earlier.
Tucked in along his flank Fern was in as good of a position as she could manage and young Ziggy voicing his support from the sideline. It was a chaotic scene as mud flew and Kei Kei was flattened.
My problem now was my spear was too long to maneuverer within the clearing so I have no choice but to stand off to the side while the battle commences and un-wind the tape to free my knife. Once the knife is free it is a simple coupe de grace and the battle is won.
After a careful inspection of the dogs by torch light it appears we got of lightly with just one small poke in Ferns back leg. Inspecting the boar, I estimate him around 130lb with a jaw 2 and ¾ inches. By no means the biggest boar but for a true native bred Captain Cooker a good boar all round.
A fairly hasty butchery job has me loaded up to the gunnels and headed for the hut with a pack full of beautiful Hinau fattened wild pork and a nice jaw for the collection. The next morning brings a close find producing a nice sow around 60lb released for another day and Ziggy leading the charge on a young boar around 100lb.
The adrenalin of going hand to hook with a good boar without the help of a dedicated holder will be pretty hard to top but things wouldn’t have needed to go much differently and the outcome could have been very different for the dogs or myself. Despite this being a good yarn for the future grandkids, it isn’t one I wish to repeat any time soon.
Micheal Kuypers