Raising the next generation of pig hunters

With extra baby wipes, child seat (fitted), a six pack (of disposable nappies) packed, the other stuff like shotguns, a hard hitting .300, plenty of ammo and honed butchering knives found a place in the vehicle. With an icebox full of drinks, milk and tucker, we had everything covered for a successful day out bush.

My good mate Neil was behind the wheel, I was next to him and in the back seat we had my daughter-in-law Sally and young grandson Cooper to keep us out of trouble. Later, once the bailers were collared and ready for action, we followed the property’s main track to a likely pig haunt.

Just short of our intended destination, a rough looking, seen better days three-legged pig made a slow-motioned escape from the well-trodden, murky edges of a shallow tract of muddy water. The pig’s lack of ground speed even made my old skinny legs look quick as I jumped from the vehicle and took up the chase. An instant after shouldering the ever-reliable coach-gun I took aim and fired. The black, hairy-legged tripod hit the ground hard and stayed there, lights out.

A short time later, we pulled up in the limited shade just short of a large well-used waterhole. We grabbed the double barrels and Coop from the child seat, and started the walk in. The dogs had hit the ground running as soon as the dogbox doors were raised and looked fired-up and keen. Moments later, in the slight breeze among the strong smell of cattle, donkey and wallaby, the hard-working bailers found the scent they were looking for. The spirited barking of the four tenors started shortly thereafter.

Instantly, the large mob of panicked porkers scattered in all directions. It was pandemonium but the bailers only had eyes for a solid black and tan boar that stood head and shoulders above the rest. As the boar veered left in top gear, the dogs, Sandy, Rusty, Ace and Mate, zeroed in on their intended target.

Sally’s dog, Sandy, although short in stature, was a tenacious pig hunting machine who’d seen plenty of pork. The rest of the canine cavalry certainly had lots of runs on the board, so the powerfully built, broad shouldered boar’s days were numbered.

As the feisty lump of a boar hackled up with its head lowered menacingly, it eyeballed the semicircle of canine teeth and yapping dogs as I moved in closer to take the shot. From this close the coach-gun firing solids takes no prisoners and the target was packing its bags for hog heaven before it hit the dirt.

One thing’s for sure, Coop’s not camera shy! Once the fallen boar was set up for pics and the cameras came out, the little fella revelled in the moment. After a heap of photos, Sally took Coop for a quick splash at the water’s edge. He certainly loves being outdoors.                

A few days later, Coop donned a little camouflaged hunting shirt and was ready for some more pig hunting action. Just like Sandy (the dog) he is short in stature, but another tenacious pig hunting machine in the making.           

At a small, quickly evaporating waterhole, the dogs went into combat mode and after a short skirmish two mob pigs had been added to this year’s progressive pig tally. I’d just got my breath back when the dogs fired-up again in the distant tree line.

Moments later, a smallish, nuggetty pig broke cover and made a beeline for the water with the dogs close behind. As the dogs’ shadow boxed in the wet stuff with their number one nemesis, Sally handed Coop to me then unsheathed her trusty pig sticker and got to work. After a quick drink, Neil pulled the sodden dead pig from the coffee-coloured muddy water. Back at the vehicle it was time for a much-needed sandwich and Coop needed a feed.

The day was not over! After the break, at a picturesque waterhole, the dogs bailed a reasonable boar in the stunted timber encircling the watercourse. When a safe shot was presented, the coach-gun did the rest. A nano-second after the boar had headbutted a solid the dogs took off at speed and were instantly lost from sight in the waist high stalks of dry grass.

The pig must have been quick on its feet as it seemed ages before the barking started and even longer until the distinctive boom of Neil’s compact .30-30 exploded into action.

The following week, Macey, a close friend of Sally and Coop, came along with us for a quick and productive hunt. A short walk from a large expanse of water, Neil pulled the mighty HiLux up in the shade and released the hounds. We’d only just shouldered the backpacks and shotguns when the emphatic barking started in the direction of the water.

All combatants were in the wet stuff and the bailers had the situation all under control when we arrived at the conflict. The canine crew had an absolute cracker of a boar bailed, bluffed and half-deafened in the shallows. A few paces back Neil was recording the action as I shouldered the ‘widow maker’, thumbed back the righthand side hammer and squeezed the trigger. The boar was later weighed, hitting the scales at 105kg.

Later in the week, Neil and I shouldered the rifles and backpacks while Sally slipped into a stretchy baby wrap carrier and once Coop was aboard, we went for a good walk. We were in search of a freezer filler buffalo but had no luck. We did see recently vacated wallows and a small mob of buffalo cows and calves making a quick zigzagging departure in a thick stand of paperbark, but no clear, ethical shot was available.

Luckily, Neil was a ‘whip’ with the fishing rod and at scenic bend in the river scored a few black breams for the icebox. After a relaxing hour or so we packed up the vehicle and u-turned for home.

Sally’s dad arrived the following week and after a bit of sightseeing we managed to get a successful pig hunt in. It was great for two doting grandads to spend quality time with Sally and the little bloke.