First, this is from ABC Rural News (ABC, in this case, is Australian Broadcasting Company), about the impact, or lack thereof, that recreational hunters are having on the overpopulation of hogs in that country.  I’ve mentioned before that hunters participating under fair chase principles simply won’t do what it takes to eradicate hogs, and that certainly seems to be the case in Australia. 

Recreational hunting is a favourite pastime of many people in regional areas, but Dr Carol Booth, from the Invasive Species Council, says unco-ordinated shooting does little to reduce feral populations.

“It’s been estimated for some areas that you need to reduce pig populations by something like 70 per cent to actually achieve a reduction in the population the following year,” he says.

It’s an interesting reality check. 

Another article from the BBC discusses the recent deaths of a couple of reintroduced wild boar in a Scottish forest.  The disease angle is interesting enough, but what really caught my attention was the rationale for reintroducing these beasts…  because they control the undergrowth and keep brush under control. 

The animals were released in a bid to aid the regeneration of ancient Caledonian woodland.

Trees for Life is keeping the surviving boar in a 30.4 acre enclosure in an area of ancient birch wood.

It hopes the animal will control the spread of bracken which shades out other wild plants.

Of course, in Scotland and Britain wild boar are, after all, native to that landscape.  It does make me wonder what the real impacts of wild hogs would be on US habitat.  Isn’t it possible that, in the big picture, they may actually offer some benefits?

That’s just a taste of what’s going on with hogs around the world.  Thought ya’ll might find it interesting.

Several of us have heralded the coming fall of traditional print media, for good or ill, and it looks like the trend just took a big leap forward as Conde Nast is dropping several major publications… not the least of which is Gourmet magazine.  

I just saw an article about this in the SFGate, and from the sounds of things the economy is the biggest factor, which make some sense.  Conde Nast publications are known for their high-end finish, and that’s expensive to maintain in any environment.  Given that advertisers are being a lot tighter with their dollars, it’s no surprise that the big, glossy mags are feeling the bite.

What the heck does this have to do with hog hunting, or hunting in general? 

Very little, I guess.  It does concern me a bit about the future of our hook-and-bullet magazines, though.  I think I commented a while back on the layout and production changes in Field and Stream and Outdoor Life, wherein they’ve pushed the margins all the way to the edge of the page, and changed the paper quality as well… not to mention the dismissal/retirement of two classic writers, Jim Carmichel and Patrick McManus.  It’s expensive to run a quality magazine, and as cheaper, more efficient alternatives arise, we’ll probably see the old-tech fade away.

Anyway, those of us who still enjoy the look and feel of a paper-based magazine may want to pay close attention to the trend.  The economy may be starting to bounce a bit, but the long-term repercussions will be felt for quite some time.  Pretty much every major magazine has expanded into “new media” in one way or another, and I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to see more of them going purely digital in the next three or four years. 

As the luddites and pre-tech generations hand over the market to the Gen-Xers and their kids, there may very well come a time when you’ll need a mouse or a touchpad to flip through the pages of your favorite rag.

Hope to have everything back to normal real soon.

UPDATE  Looks like it’s all fixed now.  Had a problem at the network level.

It’s what we do when no one is looking that really matters. 

Well, I finally got out to do a little hog hunting after a long, dry spell.  I was already jonesing to get out there anyway, but with all the stuff that’s been going on the last couple of weeks, I really needed to get  away from the city, and out into the hills.  Michael Riddle, from Native Hunts had extended a generous invitation for the coming weekend, but I couldn’t take him up on it.  Fortunately, I was able to make a last minute call to the Golden Ram offices and line up a weekday hunt at the Hedgepeth Ranch in Sonoma County.

Over the last couple of years, I’ve pretty much figured out an area of this ranch that seems to always hold hogs.  The last few trips out there put me right on them, but I couldn’t capitalize with the bow.  This time I wanted meat, so I left the bow behind and grabbed my old stand-by rifle, my Savage 30-06.  I figured if I could see them, I could kill them.  I needed success, not more frustration.

As the hunt dates got closer, the weather came in… finally.  Forecasts were calling for rain and hail, with near-freezing temperatures and a snow level descending to about 1000 feet.  I was stoked!  The newly wet ground should get the pigs rooting, and the cloud cover should obscure the nearly full moon, and keep the hogs out during the day.  I was also excited just for the possibility that I’d get to hunt in the snow.  There’s something special about that, at least for this translocated southern boy. 

I hit the road up to the ranch at about 0300 yesterday (Monday).  It wasn’t snowing, and the two and a half hour drive was punctuated by periods of rain and crystal clear skies.  Temps hovered in the 40s until I started climbing into the hills around Lake Sonoma.  By the time I reached the ranch and drove in to my hunting spot, temps were in the mid-30s, but the rain was breaking up.  I geared up and headed down the trail as the sun came out into a clear, blue sky. 

Because of the cool, wet day, I’d geared up in my Rivers West Stalker jacket and pants.  This stuff is really excellent for rough weather because it sheds water like a traditional rainsuit, but it’s quiet.  The thing is, though, I can’t use it very often here in CA, because most of my hunts take place in the warmer parts of the state and I do a LOT of walking.  The Rivers West gear is made for colder weather.  I figured the day would be perfect for it.

About halfway up the second ridge, I realized I was over-dressed.  I stopped and peeled off the jacket.  As I cooled off and got comfortable, a chilly breeze suddenly came up.   In a matter of seconds, the blue sky went slate grey and it started raining.  Off went my pack and on went the coat.  Like magic, a few moments late the rain stopped and the sun came out.  This would be the pattern all day. 

But you’re not here to read about the weather.  What about the hunting?

The hillsides were ripped to shreds by rooting.  I picked up the trail of a large group of hogs.  Fresh tracks, scat, and rooting marked their path across the hillside.  From the freshness of the sign, I was pretty sure the hogs were close, but I also know how much ground these animals can cover.      From the top of the ridge where I picked them up, the sign led across the steep hillside, dropping in elevation steadily until I’d reached the bottom of the canyon, some 500 feet down from where I’d started.  And then, of course, the trail started to climb the other side.

To folks accustomed to the high country, 500 feet of elevation change may not sound like a lot.  And on an easy, rolling slope, it’s really not much of a climb at all.  But in these hills, the climb is not far from vertical, and it takes some effort… especially when the most exercise I’d had over the last several weeks was dragging and dropping files on the computer. 

Point being… I looked up this next hill with a mild dread.  I knew where these hogs were going, and unless I got really lucky, this was going to be one heck of a tough hunt.  I adjusted my pack, slung the rifle, and started climbing.

I finally topped out the climb and knew I was close.  I could see where the herd had stopped to root under some oaks in the saddle,  just over the ridgeline.  From the looks of the ground all around, they were staying pretty busy up here.  There was sign, literally, everywhere!  I picked the freshest tracks I could identify, and started back on the trail which led, predictably, down the other side of the ridge.  I knew that the property line was in the bottom of this next canyon, but that the thick oaks and manzanita provided shelter.  If things worked out, the hogs would hold up in the bedding areas instead of crossing the property line where I wouldn’t be able to get to them.

I eased down the track, moving slowly and listening for the telltale patter of hog feet.  The rain dripping off of the trees made it pretty tough to hear anything, so I had to rely mostly on my eyes.  But then my nose told me what my eyes and ears missed… I could smell hogs.  I dropped my pace to a near crawl as the trail led down a steep finger ridge into the bottom of the canyon.  The wet clay ground was slick as grease, making the descent a little tricky, but I knew this is where I’d find my pig.

The finger ridge ended suddenly in a bluff, about 20 feet above the creekbed in the bottom of the canyon.  I could see the red and white fenceposts that marked the property line.  Across the canyon, up on the hillside, I caught movement.  My herd of pigs fed out from under the oaks, milling around comfortably in the open.  I ranged them at 221 yards… a long poke, but very do-able with the Savage. 

Temptation welled up in my mind. 

I was the only person on the ranch, back in one of the deepest, darkest canyons.  I could make this shot, and the pig would more than likely roll all the way down the steep hill and into the creek bed… right at the property line.  Even if it didn’t roll all the way down, it would be an easy task to get to him and drag him back across the fence.  No one would ever know.  I sat back on a flat spot and leveled the rifle across a stump.  With this position, I was steady as a benchrest shooter, and I put the crosshairs on a medium-sized, calico hog.  The unfortunate animal was marked with a black circle just at the point of the left, front elbow… a bullseye over his heart. 

Of course I didn’t shoot.  I honestly considered it, but in the end I snapped the scope caps back down, thinking back on some of the recent ethics discussions, both here and on other blogs.  It’s what we do when no one is looking… that’s what really matters. 

As I sat there, thinking about how I’d write this up for the blog, I heard a grunt.  It took a second to register, and then I realized more hogs were coming toward me.  I scanned the oaks, and caught the rapid movement of a small hog running down the hillside.  I crept closer to the edge of the finger ridge, making it just in time to see three smallish hogs cross under the fence onto the neighbor’s property, joining a larger group that had already crossed.  Dangit!  Then, as if to add insult to injury, the little group milled around about 20 yards across the line, offering several clear shot opportunities before finally wandering off into the thickets.

I suppose my restraint paid off in good karma…

I sat down to think about a plan for the remainder of the day.  I’d obviously found a hot travel corridor, and with patience I knew I could probably catch these hogs or a different group travelling back through here later in the day.  I looked around for a good, level spot where I could settle in for the wait, but as I was looking around, I heard another grunt coming down the same trail.  This time, I’d be ready.

I had already made up my mind that I didn’t want to shoot a giant hog in this “hell hole”.  The pack-out would be brutal, and there was no need to do that to myself.  Smaller pigs usually eat better anyway… or so I rationalized it anyway.  Through the brush, I could see this group had a couple of big pigs in it, but when I saw the 75-80 pounders leading the herd, I decided to take one of them. 

The first little boar squirted out into the open too quickly, and before I could get the crosshairs on him he was under the fence.  I turned my attention to the matched pair of black and white boars coming behind him at a quick jog.  I watched the black and white hair pass under the scope until the crosshairs hovered behind his ear.  I barely thought about pulling the trigger and the rifle barked (I LOVE this Timney trigger!).  The 180gr Winchester ETip took him right where I was aiming, and hammered him straight into the dirt… dead before he’d hit the ground.

Of course, as soon as the echoes died and the rest of the herd scattered (I could have shot another boar at about two feet… but one is enough) the universal truth and cliche settled in… Now the work starts!  I was in a classic hell hole.  Those who’ve hunted with me know my propensity for shooting pigs in nasty places, but this one was a real doozy.  I was two miles from the truck, with a 500 foot climb out of this hole, then a 500 foot drop down the other side, followed by another climb back up to the road. 

There was a road at the top of the first ridge, but there was no way I’d get the 3/4 ton Dodge down the steep, sloppy road.  I was really missing Petunia (my Samuai) at the moment, but there was nothing to be done for it.  I cut the little boar up, packed him in the game bag and lashed him to the backpack frame. 

The walk out was everything I thought it would be. 

Epilogue: I finally got back to camp a few hours later and decided to take a nap.  The temps were dropping and snow was starting to mix with the rain and hail.  I was looking forward to a peaceful night in the camper… a few drinks, crank up the heat, eat a good dinner, and enjoy the quiet night… and maybe wake up to a little snow in the morning.  Unfortunately, I woke from my nap freezing cold.  I turned up the heater, but all it did was blow cold air.  A quick check verified my problem… no propane!  Not only did that mean no heater, it meant I couldn’t cook dinner.  I broke down camp, tossed the meat in the cooler, and hit the road for home. 

One that I used to have fun with was the original Deer Hunter.  In this game you started every hunt with a shopping trip.  You had a budget that you had to contend with, and you also had to consider things like weight.  The more gear you carry, the slower your character moves.  The artificial intelligence (AI) in the game calculated things like how far you could go before you needed a break, and the character’s health status was impacted by having too much stuff, or by not having enough of the right gear for weather conditions.  You even had to choose your clothing based on the season and geographical location, or you’d freeze on winter hunts or overheat in warm climates.  Don’t pay attention to these things, and your hunter can actually kick the bucket.  You even had to plan to carry food, or you would have to return to camp from time to time in order to replenish.  It added an element of semi-reality to the game experience that I’d never seen before. 

Anyway, this was my previous experience with Deer Hunter, so when I was contacted by the marketing company for Atari, I was excited at the chance to give this new version, Deer Hunter Tournament, a try.  When the package arrived, I tore into it like a kid at Christmas.  I’ve spent several evenings in the game now, and here’s what I think.

The first thing I noticed was that the shopping experience has been eliminated, and outfitting your character is significantly streamlined.  Selecting your hunter (or huntress) is more akin to setting up an avatar.  You select physical attributes like hair color and body type (only one body type for female characters, apparently), and some clothing.  However, the clothing choice really doesn’t appear to have any relationship to the hunting environments.  In the game you hunt from Alaska to Arkansas, and from the southwestern deserts to Finland… and you can do it all in the same clothing without consequence.

The remainder of the outfitting process is selecting your weapons (you get two weapons for each hunt), your optics, and your means of transport.  There’s a pretty wide selection of weapons, from traditional longbow to centerfire rifle.  With each weapon, there are a handful of additional options, such as sighting systems and caliber or arrow and broadhead type.  This is probably the most comprehensive part of the outfitting process, and it is important to select the proper weapons for the game you’re hunting. 

Optics choices are limited… too limited in my opinion.  You get to choose either binoculars, a spotting scope, or a heat-sensing scope.  I suppose there are players who can make the most of these choices, but I found that my own choice was the same I’d make in real life…  binoculars.  The thing that’s most painfully lacking is a rangefinder.  Maybe I’m missing something, but I couldn’t figure out a good way to measure range in this game… more on that later.

Transportation choices are foot (no selection), horseback, or ATV.  I usually chose horseback, because I like horses.  The game hints also tell you that the horse is quieter than the ATV (duh!) so you can get closer to game with it.  You can play the game just fine on foot.  Since there’s no health status in the game, your hunter can literally run the entire map for the entire game without ill effects.  The only downside to playing on foot is that you can’t travel as fast.  The horse is faster, and the ATV is fastest. 

OK, so you’ve made all these choices and you’re ready to hunt.  You get to choose from 13 hunt locations around the world, and each location offers a selection of game from axis deer to mountain lions.  The locations are nicely done, drawing from real geographic features and rendered pretty nicely (for a computer game).  I couldn’t decide which area was my favorite, although Siskiyou is relatively close to home.  It was also one of the harder areas to hunt.  The easiest hunts were the Sonoran Desert and Missouri.  I don’t know if that’s by design or just because they lent themselves to the way I played the game. 

The only location that really didn’t make a lot of sense to me was the shooting range, since there are no distances marked on the range, and there are no adjustments on your sighting systems to tweak.  Basically you can shoot at the targets and look at where you’re hitting… but I couldn’t figure out how to tell how far each target was, so it really didn’t make much difference.  When you select your weapon, you can “calibrate” it for a certain range, which I’m assuming is Atari-speak for zeroing the sights.  Unfortunately, since I couldn’t find distances at the target range, I had no way of really verifying my settings.  For what it’s worth, I relied on my own knowledge of ballistics to figure out where to zero my rifle so I wouldn’t have to rely on holdover.  That seemed to work. 

Anyway, with that one exception, I really liked the hunting locations, maps, and choices of game.  And yes, we all realize that you can’t really hunt mountain lions in Siskiyou (CA), but I know a lot of folks who would love this single aspect of the game. 

Instead of selecting all of your other gear, the game selects accessories for you based on the game you’re hunting in each location.  For example, when you’re deer hunting you’ll be equipped with a doe-in-heat call, a buck grunt, and a set of rattling antlers.  Elk hunters get a cow call and a bugle.  Bear and lion hunts are outfitted with a predator call.  And you get a supply of bait corn, regardless of where you’re hunting (something else I’ll get back to in a moment).

The calls are another area I had some issue with.  You’d think that with all the call-makers, instructional videos and CDs, and other access, the guys at Atari would have be able to come up with some reasonably accurate call effects.  In the old Deer Hunter game, the call sounds were a little better, and I saw a pretty cool learning opportunity for hunters who’ve never used calls.  What should they sound like and what are some good calling strategies?  This would have been a good direction, but it looks like the game makers went the other way instead.  You’re rewarded for overcalling, and persistence will always bring the animals in. 

A far as gameplay, I understand that there’s a really hard line to define between realism and fantasy.  I know a lot of people complain about hunting games where the hunt is presented more as a shooting gallery than a real hunt.  The complaint is that it gives an inaccurate depiction of hunting, and lends itself to the short attention spans of today’s kids. 

The opposite end of the spectrum is that real hunting is slow and often unproductive… attributes that will definitely NOT sell games.  Who wants to play a hunting game where you don’t kill anything (the same mentality that drives the hunting TV and video industry)?  You’ve gotta throw the players a bone or two, or they’ll turn it off and go find something else to play. 

Deer Hunter Tournament toes the line on this.  My first impression of the game was, SLOW.  You really have to look for game, and it took an awful lot of patience to keep waiting.  Combined with my early difficulties figuring out how to use the weapons (remember that rangefinding issue?), I got pretty frustrated early on.  I was almost ready to give this game a major thumbs-down, but decided to give it another go.  I abandoned traditional hunting practices, and jumped on the horse to “spot and stalk” game.  This worked pretty well and I started to fill up my “trophy room”. 

Later, I found that a little patience pays off.  Each map is dotted with stands, tripods or ground blinds, and if you sit in one for a little while, you’ll usually see game.  If you spot game in the distance, you can call it in using your arsenal of calls.  You still have to move occasionally in order to fill all of your tags, but I found it wasn’t unusual to be able to take at least a couple of species from a single stand if I was willing to sit there for a while.

The passage of time in the game is part of what made things seem slow.  Each hunting location allows you the space of one “day” to fill your tags.  When time is up, the hunt is over.  One complaint I had about this is that there’s no indication that time is up, except the clock stops spinning.  In the old game, you reviewed the local regulations, including shoot times, in the camp before you went out to hunt.  This version doesn’t appear to offer that, so you don’t know what time to stop hunting until time actually runs out.  If you didn’t notice the clock stopping, it’s entirely possible to keep hunting.. although if you shoot something after time runs out, you are penalized and lose all your tags and trophies.

In the game settings, you can adjust how fast time goes by, from real-time to eight times normal speed (eight seconds pass for every real second).  Honestly, though, even at eight-times normal, waiting could start to seem interminable.  I can see where a lot of gamers aren’t going to like this at all.  I have become ambivalent… if I wanted a shooting gallery, I’d pick a different game.  There are plenty of them out there.  There aren’t many like this one, though.

The game does rely on a strict set of “regulations”, which I kind of liked.  You have one tag for each species of animal in an area.  The tag is either-sex, which isn’t particularly realistic, but I think that’s a concession to the gamer who has to shoot something.  Once you fill that tag, you move on to the other species, and take as many as you can before time runs out.  If you shoot another of the same species, you lose all of your tags and trophies… but instead of taking you back to a menu, it leaves you in the environment.  Kinda strange…

I learned about the limits the hard way after shooting a big, boar grizzly in Denali.  As I went to “tag” my trophy, I was charged by the sow.  When you get mauled by the bear the system knocks you down and then respawns the character after a period of time.  Unfortunately, every time I got respawned, I got attacked again.  I fired a couple of shots to turn her a time or two, but finally she ignored my warning shots and came right at me.  I finally shot her at the end of my muzzle, and was immediately informed that I’d over-shot my limit.  I guess that’s realistic enough, but I’m still wondering what else I was supposed to do. 

Another regulation prohibits shooting game in the water.  You’ll often find animals swimming, and you have to wait until they’re completely clear of the water before taking the shot.  That’s fine and realistic, but in some cases you can’t tell if an animal is in or out of water… particularly at a distance or over an obstruction.  This applies to shooting wounded game as well, as I learned the hard way. 

Speaking of wounded game, you are responsible for tracking a wounded animal.  If the wound is fatal (as determined by the AI), you have to recover the animal.  If you lose it and shoot another, you’ve exceeded your limit and the hunt is disqualified.  While I like the tracking requirement, the game makes it pretty tough.  A blood trail will disappear quickly if you don’t get right on it.  I found that it will even go away while you’re looking at it, and it did cost me a couple of animals.  This was really frustrating.  The blood trail should stay in place until you recover the animal, unless the animal is not fatally wounded. 

How about all that technical stuff?  I tried this game on two computers, my desktop, which is pretty high-end and designed for multi-media and gaming, and my laptop which is still pretty powerful, but not totally optimized for gaming.  I won’t get into all the megahertz and gigabyte stuff (you can find full system requirements on the Deer Hunter Tournament website or on the game box), but the bottom line is, the laptop barely handled the game, and stalled regularly.  The desktop handled it fine.

I think I missed out on one of the key selling points of Deer Hunter Tournament… the ability to play in online tournaments with other gamers.  Due to my home firewall and the fact that I’m running on Vista, I wasn’t up to the convolutions required to connect to an online tournament.  That’s not really something I am personally interested in anyway, but after reading up a little it does sound pretty cool.  Not only can you hunt with or against other players, it looks like tournaments can be set up by corporate sponsors, and players can play for prizes.  I don’t think this is a new thing overall, but I don’t know of any other hunting games that offer this functionality right now. 

Anyway, I’ve gone on quite a bit, and really haven’t addressed a lot of features.  They’re not all that important anyway… the question is, did I like it? 

And the answer is…

Yeah, I kinda did.  There’s an awful lot of room for improvement, and a few things I just hated… but I could say that about every game I’ve played.   I find myself firing it up from time to time when I’m bored with the Web, and once I’m in the game I tend to lose track of time.  After playing for a while, I’ve learned the tricks to keep the game moving when it feels slow, although I’ll still often run out of time before I fill all my tags. 

It’s a fun game if you enjoy the first-person hunting games.  It should be a perfect stocking stuffer for the younger hunters on your list, which is probably why they released this new version right here at Christmas time! 

Here’s the second part…  hope ya’ll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed being there!

Well, I’m into my third week here.  It’s a beautiful place, and I sure don’t miss the craziness that is the urban Bay Area.  But, I do miss my family.  I even, a little bit, miss the Internet… especially the Hog Blog.  (TV?  You can keep it.)

Yesterday, Tuesday the 11^th, marked the conclusion of our second guided hunt with clients T. Michael Riddle and Jeff Sheldon. It was a quick one, but pretty danged exciting.

It started on Saturday the 8^th, a day earlier than I had planned.  I suppose that in the hectic days before the hunt got underway, Dave Allen, Coon Camp Springs President, inadvertently told Michael and Jeff that they could come on up on Saturday instead of Sunday the 9^th.  Fortunately, the first week clients were done and gone, but I had run back to the Bay Area on a marathon drive to take Dolly (my horse) back to the Bay Area.  Dave got them settled in, and after doing two weeks’ worth of laundry and a quick nap, I turned around and drove the 400 miles back up to Coon Camp Springs by early morning Sunday.

On my way out of camp on Saturday, I decided to take one more look up in the front corner where we’ve been seeing so much deer activity, including a large herd of does, and where our client, Bruce Einck, had taken a real nice four-point the previous week.  Sure enough, as I rounded a bend, there were the does… only this time, they were accompanied by yet another nice four-pointer!  Sure didn’t take him long to replace the previous monarch!  He wasn’t as big, but neither of my hunters were trophy hunting.  Michael had never shot a mule deer at all, and Jeff said he’d be happy with a forkie.  This 4×4 would definitely make either of them happy.

This reconnaissance, coupled with the consistency with which these deer had been using that same area set my plan for the first hunts of the week.  On Sunday, after spending a little time at the range to zero rifles, I took the guys up on top of the ridge to one of my favorite glassing spots.  On the way in, we saw a ton of fresh sign, but it looked to me like it had all been made earlier in the day… probably during the morning. I found it a little odd, since the spot had been an evening hotspot for the past two weeks.  All of my scouting had produced sightings in the afternoon and evening, and Bruce had taken his buck right at last light.  

I don’t know what it was, specifically, that changed the pattern from evening to morning.  Maybe the weather which had finally cleared up and turned cold, or; it could be the rut which was obviously getting into full swing, or; maybe it was the moon, waxing hard past half and heading for full.  Anyway, I decided we’d come in and set up from the other side of the canyon in the early hours after sunrise on Monday, and we headed back to camp for some social time around the fire.  I’d slow-cooked a wild boar ham all day, and it was calling to my empty stomach.  14 hours of driving over the past 24 had me pretty worn down, too.

Monday dawned cold and bright.  I wasn’t really thrilled with the big moon we’d had all night, but with the rut going strong and the amount of good sign we’d seen, I still felt pretty positive.  We piled into Jeff’s old “Willy’s” Jeep and rumbled off across the valley to a strategic parking spot, then laced up the boots and covered some ground to a rock pile where we could glass the flats and surrounding hillsides. 

Walking in, trying to be quiet while stumbling over volcanic rock and sage brush was quite a challenge.  However, we must have been doing pretty well, because we managed to walk right up on a coyote at less than 40 yards.  It was his lucky day, though, as we sure didn’t need gunshots to alert the deer to our approach.  We moved on.

I was first to the rock pile, and as soon as I peeked over the top I got a shock!  Deer!  Seven or eight animals milled around, feeding along the edge of a gully.  Through my glasses I spotted a little forkie, then one, two, three, four, five does… and then, a hawg of a buck popped into view.  He was easily 22 to 24 inches wide, and his body dwarfed the does and forkie as he meandered from doe to doe, trying to keep them corralled.  I turned and gestured frantically to Michael and Jeff to get up here!

They had agreed that Jeff would take the first shot, so he set up next to me.  Michael moved up a bit and settled in above him.  Unfortunately, Jeff couldn’t get a good rest, and every time he put the scope on the deer, he couldn’t see the buck.  He decided to move, and told Michael to go ahead and take the shot if he got it.  As Jeff worked down the hill a bit, the big buck stepped out, broadside into the open at about 225 yards.  It was a fairly long shot, but very reasonable given that both hunters were shooting big magnums.  “Take him, Mike!” I hissed.  “Kill that buck!”

It seemed to take forever for Michael to take the shot, and my heart raced as I watched the big deer.  Visions of him stepping into that gully and disappearing forever crowded my mind.  But finally, Michael’s .300 Weatherby Magnum roared.  Everything went still for a moment, as the deer seemed confused by the source of the sound.

“Where’d I hit?” Michael asked. 

“I didn’t see it,” I told him.  “Shoot again!”

Michael touched off another round.  This one sailed just over the deer’s back.  It jogged a few yards to round up a confused doe, and stopped again.  “Get him, Mike!”

The third round appeared to hit the deer in the front leg, but the hit had minimal effect.  “Get him again!” I practically shouted.

I turned to look, and Michael was reloading.  I looked down at Jeff and saw him fixed on his scope.  “There’s another buck,” he whispered.  “Right there!”

“I know,” I answered.  “It’s that forkie.” 

“No,” he countered.  “This is a good deer, a four-point.”

I put the binos on the deer again, and sure enough, the four-point I’d seen Saturday was up in the open, looking around.  The bigger buck turned toward him, as if accusing him of being the one who hit him in the leg.  If I could have bottled the excitement I was feeling at that moment, I could have put every meth dealer in the country out of business. 

“Take him if you can get him,” I told Jeff, then turned back to Michael who had finished reloading and was trying to level his sights again.

Jeff’s 7mm RUM boomed, and I saw the 4×4 turn to the other buck as if to say, “Did you do that?”

The 7mm boomed again, and the four-pointer crumpled in his tracks.  “Nice shot, Jeff!”

Michael’s buck was still standing out there.  “OK, Mike,” I whispered.  “Don’t think about holdover or crosswinds.  Just put those crosshairs where you want to hit him, and hit him.”

The Weatherby roared, and the deer scampered a bit and stopped again to look around.  Some of the does were finally getting the idea, and began to trot toward the opposite hill.  The big buck turned to round them up.  When he was broadside again, I told Michael to shoot again.  I heard him take a deep breath, then the gun went off.  This time it was a clear hit, but the deer turned just as Michael pulled the trigger.  The big buck lurched, then began to trot away, dragging his left, hind leg.  Through the glass I could see the dark stain of blood running down.

“You hit him, Michael, but he’s still going.  Get him again if you can!” 

As I waited for the shot, I saw the deer slow and begin to wobble.  “He’s going down!” I stage-whispered.  “You must have cut the femoral artery.” 

The big buck collapsed under a pine tree.  I could see his tail switch a few times, then he thrashed and turned over.  I blew a sigh of relief, and then the reality of the situation washed over me like a wave.  Both clients had just tagged out from the same herd, on the first morning of the hunt.  Both had shot good deer, and Michael’s first mule deer was a real trophy animal.  Even more, I was pretty much done!  The deer were both really close to the road, making for easy recoveries.  All that was left was field dressing, then to haul them back for skinning… then a few drinks to celebrate!

The whole scene was pretty amazing.  I suppose there were a few factors accounting for why those deer just stood there for all that shooting.  First, both bucks were rutted up, and I’m guessing neither was willing to leave those does.  I expect that, had we not started shooting when we did, we would have witnessed a good fight.  Second, the canyon where the deer were feeding is basically a boxed canyon, with walls on three sides.  The gunshots probably echoed pretty good down there, making it impossible to tell where the shooting was coming from.  Finally, these deer haven’t been pressured in a while.  The regular X3-A hunting season ended in mid-October, and it doesn’t look like we got much poaching pressure on the ranch this year.  Whatever it was, I was glad the deer had held tight and let my guys take their trophies.

I told Michael to stay put and give the deer time to get sick and die before going down to it, and then Jeff and I went back to get the jeep.  About 20 minutes later, when we got around to the deer, we found that Jeff’s buck had gone down quick from a textbook perfect high-shoulder/spine shot.  It sported a nice little 19-inch four-point spread.  The horns were a bit gnarly, giving it a lot of character.  While not the giant bucks of magazine fame, this was a nice trophy, regardless. 

Michael’s buck was simply a hoss of a deer.  The 3×3 rack spread to 24 inches, and later on the scale, its dressed weight topped 200 lbs.  Conservatively, that made this buck’s live weight somewhere in the neighborhood of 240-260 lbs. 

A quick forensic investigation showed that, indeed, Michael’s third shot had hit the deer, but it was a relatively minor wound in the front leg.  Windage was good, elevation was off.  His final, and fatal shot, caught the deer turning away, so the Barnes TSX bullet entered the hindquarter and passed clean through to exit just behind the shoulder.  Internal damage was significant, and obviously fatal.  While waiting to ensure he had time to expire was the smart strategy, it turns out that it wasn’t necessary. 

One more note of interest.  While field dressing, Michael glanced up and saw the little forkie doing his best to corral those does.  We’d made his day, and the “big man on campus” was now working for all he was worth to get those ladies under control.  Good luck with that, brother…

We celebrated during the evening, and on the second official day of their hunt, my clients drove home… happy and satisfied. 

Well, I’m back.

Here’s Part 1 of the Coon Camp Springs deer hunts!  Part 2 is coming right up.

After a great inaugural year in 2007, the Coon Camp Springs PLM hunting program got underway in August as our Antelope tag holder set off on his self-guided hunt.  Despite spotting a buck early in the week, the hunter was unable to close the distance on that one.  The rest of the week was a fruitless search for another buck.  With so much water still available across the highway in Grasshopper Valley (unusual for August), the speed goats just weren’t interested in the springs and ponds we had restored over on our place.

That’s the bad news.

The good news begins with the first of two weeks of fully-guided mule deer hunts, 11/02-11/09 and 11/09-11/16.  I would be guiding two hunters each week.  Armed with pre-season sightings and scouting reports from Coon Camp Springs President, Dave Allen and the foresters working on an adjacent property, I was able to spend the week prior to the first hunt scouring the property for sign of activity, trails, and actual deer. 

I located one good buck right away.  After watching a large group of does and young deer on a corner of the property, I rounded the end of a ridge and practically walked right into a good 4×4 buck.  A quick, rough estimation suggested the deer would be in the 22-24” range… pretty good for a CA muley. 

The deer seemed only slightly fazed by my appearance, and jogged off to a distance of 154 yards where it stopped and stared back for quite a while… long enough, in fact, for me to unpack a camera and snap a couple of photos.  The next day, while working from horseback, I spotted the buck again in the same general area.  This was definitely a spot to watch when the hunters arrived.

The area in which the buck had been feeding was also being heavily used by a group of about eight does and a couple of yearlings.  It’s a south-facing corner of the property that is covered in bitterbrush, with good cover on the surrounding ridges.  This spot has consistently held deer, and the forage and cover seem to be doing particularly well since the removal of the juniper from much of the surrounding hillsides and flats has allowed the native plants to get more of the precious water during the dry, summer season.  There’s been a resurgence in the number of cottontail rabbits and quail in this area as well… welcome sights on a ranch that has so much potential to become a real haven for wildlife. 

By the end of the week, I’d identified several areas that showed promising signs of activity and feeding.  There was, as yet, no sign of the rut.  My biggest worry at that point was that we may have actually missed it this year.  Regardless of that concern, the amount of tracks, scat, and deer I saw over the course of the week left me feeling really positive about the coming hunts.  That confidence was bolstered on Sunday morning, a few hours before our first hunter, Bruce Einck, arrived from Red Bluff.

I was on an early-morning ride on Dolly, checking the area below an area I call Holly Springs.  Dolly had been pent up for a day prior, due to the really nasty weather that had set in, so she was full of energy and kind of fighting the reins.  We rounded a bend in the road and she snorted and tugged hard.  Immediately afterward, I heard the crash of brush, then the familiar thud of mule deer stotting down the road.  Before we reached the spot where the deer had been standing, I hit the first tracks in the wet road.  My first thought was that this had to be a stray calf, left behind when the cattleman moved his animals off to winter pasture.  But when we hit the place where the deer had exploded into flight, there was no mistaking the splayed track of an extremely large mule deer. 

I followed the trail where it ran several hundred yards right down the road before veering off into a thick area of juniper and mountain mahogany.  I decided not to go in there and risk pushing the animal anymore, so we stuck to the road.  Shortly afterward, I saw an area of high activity that included tracks of all sizes.  That buck was probably shadowing a group of does, waiting for the first whiff of estrus to perfume the high desert air.

I made my way back to camp, and helped Dave (Allen) get the place ready for Bruce’s arrival.  Bruce would be hunting this week with his friend, Dale Delphia, but due to a scheduling conflict, Dale wouldn’t be arriving until Tuesday.  Due to some physical issues, Dale would need to hunt close to a vehicle, so a good part of my scouting had been an effort to locate places where the vehicle could be parked and still provide a good shot opportunity.  I knew that front corner, where I’d spotted the 4×4 would be the best bet.  I had a couple of other places in mind as well.

When Bruce arrived, after greetings and some initial paperwork and rifle sighting, I took him out on a tour of the property.  The plan was to help him learn the roads and landmarks, because he and Dale would be riding together in Bruce’s Jeep.  Since the jeep only seats two people, that meant I’d be unable to travel with them.  I could show them where to go, and be ready to help in the event that they got a deer down.  I asked what else I could do to help, and Bruce replied, “well, you can give us about two inches of good tracking snow.”

I told him I’d see what I could do.  In the meantime, I really wanted to show him that corner where I’d been seeing that buck, because I believed that would be the best place to get Dale on a deer, so I took him up on the opposite ridge where he could look down at the whole area.  We decided to walk the ridge a little, to introduce him to the terrain.  I told him he may as well carry his rifle, as who knows what we might encounter on our walk.  As we rounded a hook in the ridge, he froze.  “Deer!” he hissed.  “Bucks!”

First day, the hunt not even officially started, and here we were looking at buck deer!  Would the hunt end before it really began?  I couldn’t quite see them from where I was standing, so I inched up.  Bruce hadn’t taken his rifle off his shoulder yet, so I had a feeling these were not in the 28-30 inch class he’d told me he was hoping for.  Sure enough, it was a pair of forked horns… one of which was fairly respectable with decent eye guards and a good-sized body.  We watched them for a moment until they finally got uneasy and jogged up the hill and away.  Not what we were looking for, size-wise, but a great way to start the week!

Monday morning, I was eager to get Bruce on the trail of that monster I’d bumped the previous day.  I figured it was a good chance that the deer was still in the area, especially with all the other sign I’d found.  The weather, which had been spitting rain since Thursday, turned colder, and as we set out from the truck, it turned to snow.  It was still too warm for it to stick to the ground, but moving through the flurries really added an element of excitement to the morning hunt.

It was almost a very short hunt.  I let Bruce walk out front, because I had a feeling we might get on deer quickly… but I had no idea how quickly.  Not more than 200 yards from the truck, he stopped still.  “A big animal just crossed that clearing,” he whispered.  “Do you have bears on the property?”

I assured him that, while we do get an occasional transient bear, odds were that’s not what he saw.  We started to move forward again, then stopped short as we could see the white rump of a deer protruding from a tangle of brush.  After a moment, I could make out the big, blocky body of a good-sized deer.  From my position, I couldn’t see the deer’s head, but could make out the white and black ring of its nose pointing directly at me.  Bruce stepped up to a tree and glassed.

“It’s a buck,” he said, and then a moment later, “it’s a pretty good buck!”

I stayed frozen, as the deer was still looking at me, apparently not noticing Bruce.  From the corner of my eye, I saw Bruce slip his rifle off of his shoulder and mount it against the tree.  My heart jumped.  Was this my monster?  I kept the glasses trained on the grey body in the woods, only 103 yards away, while out of the corner of my eye I kept watching Bruce and anticipating the report of his .270.  My heart sank again as he lowered the rifle.

I looked at him and mouthed the words, “Too small?”

He shook his head.  “Can’t see it well enough.  It’s a 4×4, but I can’t tell how wide.”

He crept forward slowly about 20 yards, then laid down across a stump.  The deer finally seemed to notice him, and turned its head.  I watched Bruce line up the scope again, and this time saw his finger slip the safety on the old Browning.  I could practically hear a drum roll in my chest as I waited for the crack of a 130 grain bullet breaking the sound barrier that should come at any moment.  My feet wanted to break into a dance, but I held them still, waiting for the shot.

It didn’t come.  After several tense moments, Bruce leaned back, put the rifle on safe, and got to his feet.  The buck had had enough, and bounded up the hill to sanctuary.  As it left the cover, I could see the antlers at last.  It was, I thought, a really nice buck… probably 20-22 inches wide, but really tall and dark.  A lot of hunters wouldn’t have thought twice about taking that deer, but Bruce has his goals and I respected the restraint.  That had to be a hard choice.

Just as we’d reached the edge of the thick stuff, we stopped again to watch two young forkies browsing their way into the mahogany thicket.  There was no question of shooting these two, so we just stood and waited for them to clear out before moving on.

We made it back to camp a little before noon, and began the story-telling.  Bruce was pretty excited. “Every deer I’ve seen has been a buck!” he exclaimed. 

Monday evening we headed out for a hunt through the thicker timber, as the light snowfall was quickly becoming a real winter storm.  With the roaring wind and blinding snow, I was pretty sure the only place we’d be able to find deer would be in their beds.  Unfortunately, the weather was too rough and the thickets too thick.  While we did bump a small group of deer, all we ever saw was tracks.  I knew they’d be headed for the fenceline, and a thick growth of juniper and mahogany, so it was a fairly hopeless chase.  Even so, with the snow starting to accumulate, we were feeling really positive about the prospects of Tuesday’s hunt.  I turned to Bruce as we walked through the early darkness back to camp. “Well,” I said, “here’s your two inches of snow!”

Tuesday dawned cold but clear, and I was sure we’d be able to catch the deer as they came out of their storm beds to feed and warm up.  We hunted the ridgeline where we’d bumped the big forkie on Sunday, but with the exception of one fresh trail leading into the thickets to bed, there was nothing to be seen.  After working that area and a couple of adjacent ridges without any luck, we headed back to the jeep so I could show Bruce the rest of the roads and possible places for him to hunt with Dale. 

The clear morning belied a second round of snow and sleet that set in as we returned to camp to wait for Dale’s arrival.  Dale had opted to stay in Susanville, and drive out to hunt each day, so he called us from the motel to let us know he was on the way. 

Dale pulled in around 2:30pm, and after chatting for a while we decided that he and Bruce should head out to that front corner and watch the bitterbrush patches in hopes that the 4×4 or another buck would come out to feed after the storm.  The plan was that they’d hunt there until dark, then Dale would return to Susanville and Bruce would come on back to camp.  I rode out on Dolly to check for fresh sign while they hunted. 

Darkness came, and Dave and I sat in camp wondering where Bruce was.  We figured he and Dale were just chatting for a while, so we didn’t really worry too much about it.  Dave went to his camper to do something, and while he was gone I saw jeep headlights bouncing up the road at a pretty good clip.  Dale swung into camp and bailed out of his jeep.  “I need your help to get this deer,” he told me.

“Did Dale get one of those forkies?” I asked.

“No, I shot a 4×4.  It may be the biggest one I’ve killed so far!” 

I thought he was pulling my leg, but the blood on his hands and the shine in his eye told me he wasn’t messing around.  Dave came in as I was pulling on my boots.  “We’ll be right back,” I told him.  “Gotta go get this deer!”

As we drove out, Bruce told me that Dale had decided to pack it in and head home, since he wasn’t really feeling well.  “He just loves to get out and see some great deer country,” he said. 

“I’m heading home in the morning too,” he continued. “I promised my wife I’d come home as soon as I killed my deer.”

I was shocked.  Two days into the hunt, we were done? 

We found Bruce’s deer, and it was indeed a fine muley buck.  It didn’t quite go the 28” he was hoping for, but at 26.5”, it was still a really nice, mature deer… one most CA hunters would be proud to hang on their wall. 

Next up, our second hunt!  I’d need to get out and find two more bucks!

In short, I got an email from a reader named Rita, from Texas, who apparently had a BIG boar hog eating up her fields.  By her estimate, this sucker was over 400 pounds.  In the email, Rita told me she wanted to kill him, and she had two choices of weapon, a .270 or a .300 Weatherby Magnum.  She figured the situation would be a 50 yard shot, tops, and she wanted to make sure he went down clean and fast because, as she wrote:

Me 120 pounds – Him 420 pounds or up..

I have to win or he eats ME!!!

I got a kick out of that, but I could see where she might be coming from. A big boar can be pretty intimidating, especially if you read or listen to much of the outdoors media… or some old timers.  They make a hog sound as dangerous as a cape buffalo or something. 

So anyway, I offered the advice she asked for, recommending that she shoot the rifle that suits her best, as both offer plenty of “oomph” for the job.  I also recommended a neck shot, if she felt confident, as it would offer a quick kill… I think I said it would, “flip him over like a turtle.”

I also told her that a boar’s reputation for aggression is a little over-rated, especially when you just shot him with a high-powered rifle at close range.  “Relax and make a good shot,” I wrote, “and you won’t have to worry about getting eaten.” 

I sent the reply, and pretty much forgot about it.  But to my surprise, when I returned from my weekend of hunting on Sunday, I had several emails from Rita.  Here’s the text from the first one:

Phillip:

Last night was the most exciting hunt….

The Boar didn’t come out at 4:30..he came out just a dark!

I’ll send you some pic’s.

Well! I got him…

300 Weatherby, 9mm, backhoe, tractor, we finally brought him in.

Weight 376.

Thanks for your help.

I tried to get a neck shot… but he just kept running close to the fence. When he turned to gore the fence I took a heart shot! Rolled him over like a Turtle. Like ya said. Then he got up and Ran in the thicket.

Milton, the Farm owner, ran out 1st. He and I went after him while my sister Trish filmed. The brush was just to thick. We all got on the backhoe and found him.

He was Down but huffing & puffing. I gave him some 9mm.. He Really wasn’t happy then!

You can see the picture.

I wanted to say Thanks for helping me calm myself and make a great decision. The 270 just wasn’t the rifle for me last night.

Thanks,

Rita

Here are a couple of pix!  You can click them to see bigger versions.

Holy cow, Rita…that was a BIG hog!  Congrats on taking him out clean, and glad t hear it was an exciting hunt. 

I gotta say, they raise ‘em up right in the Lone Star State!  Rita got it done!  I guess that hog didn’t pay attention when they told him, “Don’t mess with Texas!” 

Here’s a short synopsis from the Internet Movie Database (IMDB):

When John takes his San Francisco friends to his deceased uncle’s remote ranch to hunt wild pigs, it seems like a typical guys weekend with guns – despite the presence of John’s sexy girlfriend Brooks. But as John and his crew trek deeper into the forest, they begin tracking the awful truth about his uncle’s demise and the legend of The Ripper — a murderous three-thousand-pound black boar! Their pursuit leads them through fields of marijuana and into the muddy landscape of Big Wallow, involving high-powered weaponry, the violent and unpredictable Tibbs Brothers, massacred emus, a machete-toting Hippie Stranger, vengeful rednecks, and throat-slitting Cult Girls who grow dope by day and worship a Giant Killer Pig by night. By the time the pig hunt is done, no one is innocent – or unscathed. Not for the faint of heart, PIG HUNT is a darkly comic horror film that combines the best of DELIVERANCE, JAWS, and DINER, but remains uniquely Nor-Cal in its tone and scope. It is cinematic punkabilly – fresh, shocking, unforgettable!

Oh yeah, this one definitely seems ready for Sunday afternoon runs on the SciFi Channel!  And no, while it definitely sounds like something cooked up by my friend, Rex over at the Deer Camp blog, it’s a for-real movie!  Hopefully, it’s as bad as it sounds… sure to be a classic on the lines of Halloween and Friday the 13th! 

If anybody’s beat me to it and already seen this one, I’d love to hear what you thought. 

I need some coffee
was the first thing I thought
A nice steaming cup
All black, strong and hot

But what about gifts
for the upcoming day
Presents for a dad
For work or for play?

Something to show him
how much we care
how much we appreciate
the fact that he’s there

“Boy this is stupid.”
I thought to myself
But now that I’ve started
It’s off of the shelf

So on with my doggerel
my ridiculous rhyme
my brief flight of fancy
my complete waste of time

The night before father’s day
and what can we do
to gift our dear fathers
I haven’t a clue

Does he need a new tie
or a barbecue set?
Or something sporty
lawn darts or croquet?

A new hunting rifle
or maybe a bow?
A new ATV
with get up and go?

A new box of bullets
make that lead-free
A new suit of camo
that looks like a tree?

The ideas come easy
the shopping came late
as the calendar nears
this critical date

Or here’s an idea
it’s only a thought
Do we have to show love
with something we bought?

I dunno about you guys
but for myself as a dad
There’s no greater gift
than what I already have

I’ve had lots of presents
from rifles to mugs
but there’s nothing so precious
as one simple hug.

From my darling daughter
she’s her daddy’s girl
the gift of a lifetime
The joy of my world.