Big boars in the NSW Outback

My brother Tyler, my dad Wayne, and I set off on a hunting trip deep into one of the most remote regions of New South Wales we’ve ever explored.

We had four days on the property, mostly bowhunting, though we brought rifles just in case. I’d hunted the neighbouring block two years earlier with a good mate and had a great time, taking plenty of pigs. This trip, I was hoping for more of the same.

Words can’t describe the landscape – more of a moonscape with dry red ground covered in rocks as far as the eye can see. Looking at it you wouldn’t think anything could live in it. Whatever lives in country like this is built tough and has learnt to adapt to the challenges the land has thrown at them.

After working all day, a mad all-night run from southern Victoria dodging roos and the odd pig the further north we got, had us on the property just after first light. A planned nap quickly went out the window when we spotted a few small pigs making their way back into the creek line as we pulled through the first grid.

Out of the ute and behind the rifle, I crept up the creek line and managed to quickly drop a couple of small sows. Tyler then spotted a bigger specimen making its way up the creek line toward a dam. A quick dash on foot across the open country to cut him off and Tyler put a solid shot in to secure the first boar for the trip. A great start – three pigs down before getting to the huts.

The creek lines are the only real cover anything has in this country. As soon as you get away from them, it’s open, rocky country with barely a tree in sight. The creek beds were all dry, so the only water available was from dams – and not many of them too. Water was scarce.

With temps pushing 35C and the long drive catching up to us, we decided to explore and jump a few dams in the hope of finding pigs trying to escape the heat. There wasn’t a heap of sign, but after a few jumps we found little tackers poking around an old cow carcass.

Dad was up the bank with the recurve bow, with me following with the compound bow in case a longer shot presented itself. Unfortunately, the little fellas sprung Dad as he crested the bank and took off around the other side. I made a dash to get in front of them as they tried to make their way down a gutter back into the creek system and managed to slip an arrow into one as it passed by.

We had a couple of hours to kill before dark, so we decided to walk 2km up a creek system in search of something bedded up under the banks. Poking along either side of the creek – thick with timber and cover – we expected to bust a pig out any second. I glanced across to the rocky hillside beside me and spotted a mob of six pigs out in the open.

A tough stalk with the bow, but I had to give it a crack. Moving slowly across the open ground straight at them was about all I could do. I made it to within 45m before they started making their way back towards the creek, walking straight past me at 25m, so I put an arrow into a sow.

The rest of the mob spread and ran back down towards Tyler and Dad in the creek line. By sheer luck, one of the little pigs Tyler was following disturbed a boar bedded up in the timber. Tyler managed to slip a well-placed arrow into his vitals – a great end to a great first day’s hunting.

Early the next morning, we made our way back to the same creek line we’d walked the night before, just further down. The plan was to walk to the track where we started. We crept along the creek line for ages before finding pigs. Our first encounter was a couple of sows that busted out from below us, but they were safe as we had the bows in hand.

Not long after, we came across a dead cow carcass in the creek bed. I spotted a few pigs bedded up underneath a tree nearby. Dad hadn’t managed a pig for the trip yet, so I called him around to my side of the bank, where he’d be able to stalk up and poke his head over to where they were laying.

A nicely executed shot from the recurve secured Dad his first pig. At his shot, pigs erupted from underneath the bank and tree roots, but none came back my way. Although Tyler managed to slip an arrow into a sow as she tried to escape up the creek bed.

Soon after, we got into a lot of fresher sign as the creek thickened up. Dad saw the flicker of an ear among tree roots. Tyler was in a better position for a stalk, so he snuck in and put a shot into a young boar. The rest of the mob darted back up the creek straight to Dad, with the recurve resulting in another pig on the ground.

We busted out more pigs on our walk along the creek before heading back to the ute to hit up a different creek line for an afternoon stalk.

Upon arriving at the new creek line, our anticipation grew. It was much thicker and loaded with pig sign. A dam above the creek line was our first stop before heading down into the creek. I did a quick walk around the bank above a small patch of thick brush, and my scent must have drifted down because a boar erupted from the trees and bolted towards the creek.

Luckily Tyler was carrying the rifle on this walk and made short work of the boar as it ran past him below the bank.

After the shot, a few smaller pigs came out of the brush beside me and took off over the open rocky hill surrounding the dam. The creek was full of sign – tree roots dug up and pig droppings everywhere.

It was always going to happen; it was just a matter of when. As we crept along the dam bank, Tyler busted a mob of three pigs from their bed. Luckily, they weren’t too sure what was going on and walked out straight in front of me to provide the perfect 20m shot with the bow, resulting in my first pig of the day.

We startled more pigs during our walk and Dad and I both managed to put successful stalks in on a couple of billies along the way.

The next morning, we headed to the other end of the creek we’d walked the day before, with plans to walk back to where we’d previously turned around. We parked on the boundary fence, on the other side was where I hunted two years prior and shot a good number of pigs along the creek.

I thankfully brought the rifle that morning, because it wasn’t long before we spotted a good boar making its way towards us. We were set up perfectly. I had a tree for cover as backup, and Dad was in a thinner tree line to my left with the recurve at the ready.

We watched the boar get closer and closer. Just as Dad let an arrow fly, the pig jumped the string and the arrow sailed just over his back. A quick follow-up from my .308 dropped him clean. A solid start to the morning.

We expected to find more pigs on the walk – they only had our direction to run – but all I managed was a small sow we bumped from under a big shady tree.

With the sun out in full force and temps nearing 40C, we decided to target the dams we hadn’t hit yet, hoping to find pigs at water.

Things started with a bang. I crested the first dam bank and busted out a mob of pigs below me. Strong side winds made offhand shots tough, but I dropped a boar on the spot.

We ducked over the back of the bank and walked through a small patch of lignum. It wasn’t thick, but we figured it was worth a look… and we weren’t disappointed. Tyler and I split to cover both sides. Not long after, the lignum exploded from beside me. Another boar took off towards Tyler. I gave Tyler a heads up and moments later heard the rifle crack and a thud – another boar down.

The bows were back out the next morning. But it was the rifle that saw Tyler drop a sow on our way to the creek line as she made her way towards a rocky face. The weather had turned a bit and the wind had picked up. The creek line was full of pig sign, but most of the pigs were deep in the thick stuff and busting out at our feet – no shot chances with the bows.

After the morning, Tyler and I switched back to rifles for the afternoon. Dad stuck to the bow for what could be our last hunt. We had about 5km of creek to walk – Tyler and I on either side, Dad up the middle.

A couple of kilometres in, I decided to split off into a small feeder creek that looped back into the main system. Almost instantly I bumped a couple of sows and suckers from their bed. The .308 made short work of the sows. I kept bumping the little ones down the creek, hoping they’d give Dad a chance. Unfortunately, they were too quick and slipped past him.

We found heaps of sign – digging, big prints and boar droppings. Then Dad spotted a boar bedded under a tree root, hard up against the bank. A perfect shot opportunity – except the boar was facing him. The only chance would be a centimetre-perfect shot into the vitals.

Tyler was on the bank, rifle ready. As Dad watched through the binos, the boar picked up on movement and bolted. Luckily, Tyler was quick and dropped him clean. That boar turned out to have the best jaw of the trip.

Our final morning we snuck in a short hunt to finish a 1km stretch of creek we hadn’t touched. The weather was still rough – strong headwinds and patchy rain. It looked like a bust until just before the boundary fence, when Tyler busted a mob of pigs. He and I both managed to take a sow each.

A perfect way to finish the trip.