Dang, this bowhunting is hard!

I think I’ve whined that before, but I was reminded again this weekend at the Golden Ram’s Hedgepeth Ranch. 

First of all, just finding a deer was a challenge over the weekend.  The small handful I saw were does and youngsters, nary a buck in the mix (not even a spike).  With all the youngsters in the mix, though, I knew there must be some bucks around.  They just wouldn’t show themselves for me.  That may be due, in part, to the huge moon that’s waxing right now. 

What the place was lacking in legal deer, though, it more than made up in hogs!  Hogs to the left of me, hogs to the right, rooted and plundered (apologies Lord Tennyson). 

I had the first close encounter early on Sunday morning, as a big old sow came trotting across the meadow right to me.  She stopped on the edge of a ravine, broadside, and I guesstimated the distance at 40 yards.  Unfortunately, she only stopped long enough for me to guesstimate the range before she dropped into the ravine and headed even closer.  I moved up, and waited with the bow up and ready for her to appear. 

She didn’t appear.  Then I heard rustling almost directly under my feet.  She’d turned in the brush, and was now less than 10 feet away.  I eased around to ready for a shot just as she came clear of the brambles… eye-to-eye.  Pigs have rocket assisted take-off.  You might have never known that, but this girl demonstrated a turn and burn that would’ve made a fighter pilot proud.

I was already at full draw, and instead of letting off, I touched the release to watch my arrow skip off the hard pan and disappear into a thicket.  Crap!  That’s sixteen dollars I’ll never see again!  The same can be said for the pig as well, as she dove over the ridge and into the thick woods.  I could still hear her running two or three hundred yards away.

That was exciting!

After a failed stalk, I made my way back to camp.  I’d taken my friend’s 15 year-old son, Payton, out for his first hunt (he was observing), and they had to head back early.  I got him and his mom on the road, took a little breather, and headed back to a new spot I’d just been shown.  Major thanks to “Mike”, for the generosity… sharing a great little honey-hole with me.  I never saw the big buck he’d been trying to arrow, but the hogs gave me quite a show.

About an hour after I settled down, I heard rustling coming from the manzanita below me.  Then I heard a droning kind of grunt… not loud like a feeding hog, but just kind of moaning.  Weird!  I peeked around the tree I was set up under, and spotted movement low to the ground.  A group of about eight tiny pigs were rooting around at the edge of the trail.  I readied my bow, hoping that they’d be accompanied by a larger generation of siblings or cousins, or something… but the little crew fed across in front of me (often at less than five yards), and moved away up the hill. 

After fifteen minutes of waiting for adults, I realized they’d apparently been orphaned.  They were still tiny, but seemed completely able to fend for themselves.  I briefly thought of the juvenile golden eagle I’d seen hunting earlier, and figured at least one of those guys wouldn’t make it through the evening.  Fortunately for them, the raptor had moved on to another area. 

I listened to the little hogs ravaging the underbrush for an hour or two, before things finally settled down again.  I spotted hogs across the canyon, and watched some deer, but things were quiet until about an hour before dark.  I was glassing the far ridges, and when I lowered the binos, I caught a black shape at the edge of the manzanita.  A 120-pound hog was standing there looking at me, about 18 yards away.  I froze.  He froze.  I waited.  He waited.

Finally, he lowered his head and I was able to raise the bow.  I leaned behind the tree and came to full draw, then leaned back out to settle the 20 yard pin just behind his shoulder.  A chip shot… this was one dead pig walking.

I eased the release, and the arrow sprung out toward the hog.  Straight as an arrow… or not!  Just about halfway to the target, I heard a barely audible “snap”, and the arrow dove hard to the left and passed just behind the hog’s butt!  He looked at me briefly as if to say, “well I gave you a chance,” and then he spun and bailed over the hill and back into the manzanita and poison oak. 

Disappointment and frustration tried to shake me down, but I fought it off.  I walked out to see where he’d been standing, and it was only when I looked back at my spot that I saw the manzanita bush sticking up a lone branch, like a desperate center-fielder reaching for a home run ball.  The top two inches of the branch were leaning, clipped nearly in half by a razor-sharp broadhead.  I went down to look for the arrow, but it had gone into a dense patch of poison oak.  Another $16 bucks gone! 

It looks like my archery jinx is still holding tight. 

That wrapped up the A-zone archery season.  I may try to get out for B zone archery, but August is looking kind of busy this year.  May have to find my deer with the rifle this year. 

I’m hoping to get back out after hogs with the bow as well.  I’ve got some redemption to get.

In the meantime, there’s no joy in Mudville tonight… the not-so-mighty Casey has struck out. 

(Hopefully I’ve got some good video of the weekend… I’ll try to get that online ASAP)

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