[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]The story behind this pig is not one that I've told very often, at least not with people I don't know. Whilst telling a colleague a few years ago, a bloke working in the shed next door berated me for taking the shot without having heard the backstory and circumstances. But nonetheless he had a point, it's not something I'd recommend on a regular basis... But on reflection it is something I would do again if I had to, if circumstances were such that experience, a bit of skill and a lot of patience would deliver a very high probability of success.[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]In 2008, shortly after clearing a wide stand of gorse, we levelled and seeded for new grass and plantain. Nature did her bit and after a couple of months we had fenced a new 7 hectare paddock for weaner cattle. It was late summer and there was still plenty of growing time before winter came round. Then one April night, in just a few hours, the lower margins of the paddock were rooted to buggery and I was furious. We had a new problem pig. They are relatively rare this far from the bush but this one was clearly not at all concerned about taking a chance so far from home. [/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]For the next three months or so we tried every trick in the book to nail this pig... and failed. Getting good photos on the trailcam was no problem. It was big, properly big, and a sow. Pig arrived pretty much exactly the same time every third or fourth night, pushing through the fence in roughly the same place. Being a cattle paddock the batons were relatively wide spaced with a top electric wire, and I was reluctant to have to close them up just for one pig. But I did anyway and the pig simply went further up the fenceline and pushed through there instead. So I installed a second electric wire about 250mm above the ground, to no affect whatsoever. Like goats and sheep this pig didn't seem to worry about a 10,000V shock.[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]With the prevailing wind blowing steadily from behind us at that time of year, we could not find a good blind position to shoot from without being winded. On moonlight nights our optics just weren't good enough and no one locally had decent nightvision gear. We never once saw the pig when set up in a decent shooting position. Pig was proving to be very, very cunning indeed.[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]We started baiting with dead possums and rabbits to try and lure it to a better position where we were confident we could shoot it without being winded. It never pitched on the nights we decided to take a look. We acquired some strychnine, and made up baits with dog food and fruit, but Pig didn't touch the baits... however we certainly nailed a lot of rats, cats and stoats. A couple of trips into the bush with local pig hunters and their dogs yielded a bunch of piglets and an old crook boar, but no big sow.[/FONT][/FONT][FONT=.SF UI Text]
[/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]The situation was starting to get ridiculous. What had been quite a fun challenge initially (despite the irritation of losing good pasture) soon became a right royal pain in the arse. We wondered if Pig was standing on the bushline and watching us. It seemed to know when we had been out in the paddock and when we were setting up to try and take a shot. Consequently it wouldn't show itself. It certainly knew how to access the paddock in such a way as to avoid human interaction, and it seemed to be pretty bloody good at using the wind to avoid detection.[/FONT][/FONT][FONT=.SF UI Text]
[/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]By the time midwinter came around the bottom of the paddock was a muddy bog and we had lost a good hectare or so of new pasture. I had put the problem into the hands of our favourite pig hunter who was convinced he was going to get the culprit sooner rather than later. Every Friday night at the local pub the story was the same. Bloody cunning pig. Smart pig. Useless dogs. Bad weather, rain has washed away the scent. Pig must've moved on... It hadn't.[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]One August afternoon, it was ****ing down with rain and sitting at about 6°C. The wind was stiff but unusually blowing from the east. I'd gone out the far side to the yards to work up some firewood and deal to an old ewe that had gone lame and wasn't worth trying to fix. As usual I've taken the Ruger 10/22 to euthanise the ewe before butchering the beast for mutton roasts and dog tucker. I'd been out there a few hours when the phone bleeped. It was the wife with a very interesting message - the neighbour could see the pig at the bottom of the paddock, in daylight! This was the first time we had a chance to see it for real, but how the hell was I going to get to it without being seen or winded? There was only one option, and it was not in the slightest bit appealing...[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]The main stream through the farm runs along the lower fenceline of the new paddock. The race from the yards back to the house runs on the other side of the stream. With the change in wind direction Pig had made a BIG mistake and not realised I was in the yards, and decided to come out for some daylight robbery. But there was a problem. There was no way to tool myself up with a better rifle without either riding, or walking, straight past Pig, or walking around the long way which would leave me exposed for about 1200m. Even with bad eyesight, Pig was bound to see me. [/FONT][/FONT][FONT=.SF UI Text]
[/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]However, if I used the stream I could remain low enough and quiet enough to get quite close to where the neighbour said the pig was positioned. This meant a 300m wade from where I was... The prospect was sounding less and less attractive by the second. The phone bleeped again. It was my neighbour. Why wasn't the pig dead yet? I switched the phone onto vibrate only and told my neighbour to stay put with eyes on the pig, I was going in for the kill...[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]The depth of the water alternated between knee height and just above testicle height. It must've been about 4°C, it regularly froze over at that time of the year. I shan't bother describing the experience of wading through a muddy freezing stream for 300m... but I had the wind in my face and the noise of the water was masking my approach. I stopped to text the neighbour every 50m or so to check on the pig's position - it was stationary and seemed to be using a strainer post in the corner of the paddock to shelter its head from the rain, which by this time was fairly horizontal and starting to sleet. [/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]I stopped roughly a 100m from where I thought the pig would be standing and snuck a look over the bank. The pig was exactly where I expected, facing fully away from me with its head pressed up against the wide post. Bugger me it was a lot bigger than I expected. A really good sized sow, a massive sausage making opportunity if ever I saw one. To get a kill shot with my entirely inadequate weapon I would have to approach to within 10m of the animal and shoot perpendicular to its length, which was highly unlikely to work without being detected. So I approached another 40 or 50m and prepared a shooting position. Leaning on the bank with my rifle dug into the mud on its bipod, my lower legs still in the water and my soaked privates getting the full affect of the wind chill, I was able to get a really good solid rest. At 9x zoom all I had to do was wait for Pig to turn its head 40 or 50° towards me so I could access the ~2 in² soft zone behind its right ear. I had CCI Stingers so was happy that I had a good chance of penetration through the spine. The zero was good at 50m and I trusted my aim. I knew from using this projectile on many sheep and goats in the yards from close range that it was more than adequate to humanely euthanise, shooting for the brain or upper spinal column through the minimum of muscle. It was all about stopping Pig from running, I had to be sure I could drop it on the spot before taking the shot.[/FONT][/FONT][FONT=.SF UI Text]
[/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]And what a painful bloody wait it was... it must've been a full quarter of an hour before slowly Pig started to shuffle it's rear legs, and move its head slightly. I realised it had most likely been dozing standing up. Still Pig stubbornly faced into the post. I was so cold by now that I was starting to shake pretty badly and could only just get it under control with a deep breath and gritted teeth. It was murderously uncomfortable trying to hold my position and maintain a good bead on the target zone... Then suddenly the pig turned. A slight shuffle of the front legs to the right and an angling of the head towards the stream and my target was slap bang in the middle of the crosshair. All that waiting had come to this and it was hard as hell to concentrate and not dither. Just take the bloody shot! I gave a slight squeeze and... nothing. Bugger. Forgotten to release the safety. Released the safety, the click of the button sounded like a shot going off. Reacquire target. Bugger. Head staring firmly into the post again. I was beginning to wonder if I could go through with this I was that cold. But within a matter of seconds the sow turned her head again, and something about her posture made me think she was about to take off. Without a second thought I shot her through the spine just behind the rear of the skull. She dropped flat like a sack of spuds onto her brisket.[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]Suddenly everything changed. Time to move! The adrenaline kicked in and I started to pull myself out of the stream. I swore loudly at myself as I realised I hadn't made the rifle safe, so I cleared it with shaking hands and put it down in the mud, before clambering up the bank. I tried to run, but that wasn't going to work, so I hobbled like a one legged octogenarian over to the fenceline and the thrashing pig. As I climbed over the top wire I snagged my boot, wobbled, and fell face down into the bog of mud and pig poop. The flush of victory was starting to wear off quite quickly by now. I pulled out my gut hook knife and grabbed the pig by the hair on its neck and stuck it through its carotid artery, which erupted with a satisfying plume of blood. As the pig weakened I cut into its throat, pulling the head back and severing the windpipe. It was done for.[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]I stood back and let out a massive holler of extreme satisfaction. That is a particularly unusual thing to do for me as I'm not the hollering type, like all those Yanks in their YouTube hunting videos wooping at their own amazingness in the moment of the kill. We don't do that in New Zealand. But this one felt really special, months of aggravation and frustration and a deeply uncomfortable unplanned hunt with the wrong weapon and the weather doing its best to kill me. I realised I was shaking so badly by now that I couldn't operate the cell phone. No need to bother though because I soon heard the sound of a quad rapidly approaching, ridden by a widely grinning neighbour, who had witnessed the entire affair from the comfort of his warm living room high on the hill. The only part he was interested in congratulating me on was the face plant into the bog... [/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]So we hoisted the pig onto the front of the quad and rode back in triumph to the house. My missus was suitably impressed, my two boys who were babies then pressed their faces against Pig's nose, covered themselves in blood and played with its tail, while the dogs went berserk. A quick change of clothes and a very large stiff drink and it was straight back to the yards and the offal pit where we gutted and dressed the pig, washed it down and then hung it in the chiller. And that's where the photo was taken. The most frustratingly cunning and annoying pig I have ever known. But man did it taste good, being mostly pasture fed for several months, my pasture, it had a pleasant porky taste with only the slightest wild tang. Mixed with the mutton I had slaughtered earlier it made the best Wild Pork, Country Herb and Mutton sausages we have ever made. Hundreds of them. The hindquarters were butchered for roasts and slow cooked, the second of which was served for the following Christmas dinner.[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]We have never had a pig do that much damage before or since. We have certainly never seen one that far out of the bush again, and in the time that we were in Australia our tenants didn't see a single pig on the property. So she was an anomaly, one that did her best to ruin our efforts but in the end delivered perfect wild food and a memorable hunting experience, if only for the extreme aggravation and discomfort involved!
[/FONT][/FONT]
View attachment 85703
[FONT=.SFUIText]
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[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]In 2008, shortly after clearing a wide stand of gorse, we levelled and seeded for new grass and plantain. Nature did her bit and after a couple of months we had fenced a new 7 hectare paddock for weaner cattle. It was late summer and there was still plenty of growing time before winter came round. Then one April night, in just a few hours, the lower margins of the paddock were rooted to buggery and I was furious. We had a new problem pig. They are relatively rare this far from the bush but this one was clearly not at all concerned about taking a chance so far from home. [/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]For the next three months or so we tried every trick in the book to nail this pig... and failed. Getting good photos on the trailcam was no problem. It was big, properly big, and a sow. Pig arrived pretty much exactly the same time every third or fourth night, pushing through the fence in roughly the same place. Being a cattle paddock the batons were relatively wide spaced with a top electric wire, and I was reluctant to have to close them up just for one pig. But I did anyway and the pig simply went further up the fenceline and pushed through there instead. So I installed a second electric wire about 250mm above the ground, to no affect whatsoever. Like goats and sheep this pig didn't seem to worry about a 10,000V shock.[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]With the prevailing wind blowing steadily from behind us at that time of year, we could not find a good blind position to shoot from without being winded. On moonlight nights our optics just weren't good enough and no one locally had decent nightvision gear. We never once saw the pig when set up in a decent shooting position. Pig was proving to be very, very cunning indeed.[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]We started baiting with dead possums and rabbits to try and lure it to a better position where we were confident we could shoot it without being winded. It never pitched on the nights we decided to take a look. We acquired some strychnine, and made up baits with dog food and fruit, but Pig didn't touch the baits... however we certainly nailed a lot of rats, cats and stoats. A couple of trips into the bush with local pig hunters and their dogs yielded a bunch of piglets and an old crook boar, but no big sow.[/FONT][/FONT][FONT=.SF UI Text]
[/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]The situation was starting to get ridiculous. What had been quite a fun challenge initially (despite the irritation of losing good pasture) soon became a right royal pain in the arse. We wondered if Pig was standing on the bushline and watching us. It seemed to know when we had been out in the paddock and when we were setting up to try and take a shot. Consequently it wouldn't show itself. It certainly knew how to access the paddock in such a way as to avoid human interaction, and it seemed to be pretty bloody good at using the wind to avoid detection.[/FONT][/FONT][FONT=.SF UI Text]
[/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]By the time midwinter came around the bottom of the paddock was a muddy bog and we had lost a good hectare or so of new pasture. I had put the problem into the hands of our favourite pig hunter who was convinced he was going to get the culprit sooner rather than later. Every Friday night at the local pub the story was the same. Bloody cunning pig. Smart pig. Useless dogs. Bad weather, rain has washed away the scent. Pig must've moved on... It hadn't.[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]One August afternoon, it was ****ing down with rain and sitting at about 6°C. The wind was stiff but unusually blowing from the east. I'd gone out the far side to the yards to work up some firewood and deal to an old ewe that had gone lame and wasn't worth trying to fix. As usual I've taken the Ruger 10/22 to euthanise the ewe before butchering the beast for mutton roasts and dog tucker. I'd been out there a few hours when the phone bleeped. It was the wife with a very interesting message - the neighbour could see the pig at the bottom of the paddock, in daylight! This was the first time we had a chance to see it for real, but how the hell was I going to get to it without being seen or winded? There was only one option, and it was not in the slightest bit appealing...[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]The main stream through the farm runs along the lower fenceline of the new paddock. The race from the yards back to the house runs on the other side of the stream. With the change in wind direction Pig had made a BIG mistake and not realised I was in the yards, and decided to come out for some daylight robbery. But there was a problem. There was no way to tool myself up with a better rifle without either riding, or walking, straight past Pig, or walking around the long way which would leave me exposed for about 1200m. Even with bad eyesight, Pig was bound to see me. [/FONT][/FONT][FONT=.SF UI Text]
[/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]However, if I used the stream I could remain low enough and quiet enough to get quite close to where the neighbour said the pig was positioned. This meant a 300m wade from where I was... The prospect was sounding less and less attractive by the second. The phone bleeped again. It was my neighbour. Why wasn't the pig dead yet? I switched the phone onto vibrate only and told my neighbour to stay put with eyes on the pig, I was going in for the kill...[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]The depth of the water alternated between knee height and just above testicle height. It must've been about 4°C, it regularly froze over at that time of the year. I shan't bother describing the experience of wading through a muddy freezing stream for 300m... but I had the wind in my face and the noise of the water was masking my approach. I stopped to text the neighbour every 50m or so to check on the pig's position - it was stationary and seemed to be using a strainer post in the corner of the paddock to shelter its head from the rain, which by this time was fairly horizontal and starting to sleet. [/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]I stopped roughly a 100m from where I thought the pig would be standing and snuck a look over the bank. The pig was exactly where I expected, facing fully away from me with its head pressed up against the wide post. Bugger me it was a lot bigger than I expected. A really good sized sow, a massive sausage making opportunity if ever I saw one. To get a kill shot with my entirely inadequate weapon I would have to approach to within 10m of the animal and shoot perpendicular to its length, which was highly unlikely to work without being detected. So I approached another 40 or 50m and prepared a shooting position. Leaning on the bank with my rifle dug into the mud on its bipod, my lower legs still in the water and my soaked privates getting the full affect of the wind chill, I was able to get a really good solid rest. At 9x zoom all I had to do was wait for Pig to turn its head 40 or 50° towards me so I could access the ~2 in² soft zone behind its right ear. I had CCI Stingers so was happy that I had a good chance of penetration through the spine. The zero was good at 50m and I trusted my aim. I knew from using this projectile on many sheep and goats in the yards from close range that it was more than adequate to humanely euthanise, shooting for the brain or upper spinal column through the minimum of muscle. It was all about stopping Pig from running, I had to be sure I could drop it on the spot before taking the shot.[/FONT][/FONT][FONT=.SF UI Text]
[/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]And what a painful bloody wait it was... it must've been a full quarter of an hour before slowly Pig started to shuffle it's rear legs, and move its head slightly. I realised it had most likely been dozing standing up. Still Pig stubbornly faced into the post. I was so cold by now that I was starting to shake pretty badly and could only just get it under control with a deep breath and gritted teeth. It was murderously uncomfortable trying to hold my position and maintain a good bead on the target zone... Then suddenly the pig turned. A slight shuffle of the front legs to the right and an angling of the head towards the stream and my target was slap bang in the middle of the crosshair. All that waiting had come to this and it was hard as hell to concentrate and not dither. Just take the bloody shot! I gave a slight squeeze and... nothing. Bugger. Forgotten to release the safety. Released the safety, the click of the button sounded like a shot going off. Reacquire target. Bugger. Head staring firmly into the post again. I was beginning to wonder if I could go through with this I was that cold. But within a matter of seconds the sow turned her head again, and something about her posture made me think she was about to take off. Without a second thought I shot her through the spine just behind the rear of the skull. She dropped flat like a sack of spuds onto her brisket.[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]Suddenly everything changed. Time to move! The adrenaline kicked in and I started to pull myself out of the stream. I swore loudly at myself as I realised I hadn't made the rifle safe, so I cleared it with shaking hands and put it down in the mud, before clambering up the bank. I tried to run, but that wasn't going to work, so I hobbled like a one legged octogenarian over to the fenceline and the thrashing pig. As I climbed over the top wire I snagged my boot, wobbled, and fell face down into the bog of mud and pig poop. The flush of victory was starting to wear off quite quickly by now. I pulled out my gut hook knife and grabbed the pig by the hair on its neck and stuck it through its carotid artery, which erupted with a satisfying plume of blood. As the pig weakened I cut into its throat, pulling the head back and severing the windpipe. It was done for.[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]I stood back and let out a massive holler of extreme satisfaction. That is a particularly unusual thing to do for me as I'm not the hollering type, like all those Yanks in their YouTube hunting videos wooping at their own amazingness in the moment of the kill. We don't do that in New Zealand. But this one felt really special, months of aggravation and frustration and a deeply uncomfortable unplanned hunt with the wrong weapon and the weather doing its best to kill me. I realised I was shaking so badly by now that I couldn't operate the cell phone. No need to bother though because I soon heard the sound of a quad rapidly approaching, ridden by a widely grinning neighbour, who had witnessed the entire affair from the comfort of his warm living room high on the hill. The only part he was interested in congratulating me on was the face plant into the bog... [/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]So we hoisted the pig onto the front of the quad and rode back in triumph to the house. My missus was suitably impressed, my two boys who were babies then pressed their faces against Pig's nose, covered themselves in blood and played with its tail, while the dogs went berserk. A quick change of clothes and a very large stiff drink and it was straight back to the yards and the offal pit where we gutted and dressed the pig, washed it down and then hung it in the chiller. And that's where the photo was taken. The most frustratingly cunning and annoying pig I have ever known. But man did it taste good, being mostly pasture fed for several months, my pasture, it had a pleasant porky taste with only the slightest wild tang. Mixed with the mutton I had slaughtered earlier it made the best Wild Pork, Country Herb and Mutton sausages we have ever made. Hundreds of them. The hindquarters were butchered for roasts and slow cooked, the second of which was served for the following Christmas dinner.[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=.SF UI Text][FONT=.SFUIText]We have never had a pig do that much damage before or since. We have certainly never seen one that far out of the bush again, and in the time that we were in Australia our tenants didn't see a single pig on the property. So she was an anomaly, one that did her best to ruin our efforts but in the end delivered perfect wild food and a memorable hunting experience, if only for the extreme aggravation and discomfort involved!
[/FONT][/FONT]
View attachment 85703
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