Robbie walked with me down the grassy farm track, as red-coated cattle scattered in front of us. He had given me permission to hunt his block at very short notice and also to bring my dog, despite it being lambing time. We had only met once before, when he allowed us to hunt the other side of his block. Unfortunately that day the neighbours decided to do an extended mustering session with hours of revving of motorbikes and swearing at dogs. At some points it was pretty comical:
“Wendy!! Get in Wendy!
“Fuck! Get the fuck out of it!! WENDY!!!!!!!!”
Followed by a whole pile of unintelligible expletive-laden stuff.
However towards the late afternoon a hunting party on their side positioned themselves just a few metres from the boundary of the basin we were watching, so we gave up and went home. Pretty sure Robbie thought we were either hopeless or very unlucky.
Today was a bit different; I was hunting solo, and exploring the bush tracks on the farm. It was much more my style and it was a gorgeous sunny day. We walked along and chatted, and Robbie was explaining where the boundaries are and various landmarks to look out for.
“Deer.” I said, freezing. A mob of fallow looked down on us from amongst mature pines, then jogged away. I hadn’t even loaded my rifle yet. Robbie laughed that his usual advice is that you never see deer along here, before farewelling me, advising me not to get lost, and departing. It was just the dog and I. I loaded my rifle and Eli and I walked quietly over the sodden ground, eyes following shadows and movements. We didn’t have to watch for long before I spotted some pale coloured fallow hinds about 50m away. Eli was indicating at them and I considered shooting one but we had literally only been walking 5 minutes, and I really wanted to explore this side of the farm. I watched them dissolve into the pines.
The bush was kanuka, gorse and whiteywood scrub mostly, with some fairly mature gum and pine plantations. Around us in a horseshoe shape were tall ridges covered in dense bush and scrub. Several times Eli went on point, indicating there were things ahead. They were always peacocks but it was some very good spotting from him! Steam curled upwards from beneath trees as the sun glowed down on us, enhancing the heady coconut smell of gorse flowers.
Along the track I noticed some tiny little piglet footprints which were very fresh and lead in the direction we were walking. The breeze was tickling my right ear. We reached a large paddock dotted with gorse and scrub, and I crouched behind some reeds to watch. A few peahens in the distance saw us and flew. I didn’t have my binos or even a backpack today – just a knife on my belt and my phone in my pocket. I didn’t plan a big day. After watching for a few minutes I saw piglets zipping around on the top of a small scrubby hill. Those definitely aroused some interest! Robbie has had a terrible time with pigs – ripping up his paddocks and eating lambs. I had been told that if I saw any pigs I was to shoot them, regardless! I was pretty eager, having never hunted one before. I heard a couple of grunts and the piglets disappeared from view. I knew they weren’t spooked at 100m, and that they wouldn’t be far away. I crept forward a short distance, keeping Eli right in next to me. Kneeling where I had a clear view between reeds and gorse I waited.
And soon a big dark shape emerged from below the midline of the hill, and started ripping up yet more of the precious grass. I crammed an ear plug in one ear, lay on my belly on the swampy ground and lined up on her shoulder. Once the smoke cleared from my view and my dog came back (he ran towards the pig when I fired and was told off), I could see the bullet had knocked her right over and she was in her death throes. I would normally feel bad shooting a sow with piglets, but they are so terribly destructive it was warranted. I left my rifle, asked Eli to stay and went up to take a look. The piglets had come back to their mum and taken her rolling over as an invitation to suckle. I easily sneaked up behind them and grabbed four back legs. With me holding four piglets screaming and thrashing in the air, my dog sure did well not to come running! They were each the size of a big adult rabbit and quite heavy, so I think I also did well walking around with these four creatures fighting me as I tried to work out how I could contain them to take them home. Unfortunately with both hands completely full and a long walk ahead of me, I had to drop two so I could reach my phone and ask Robbie for a hand. I didn’t want the one I shot to spoil on this warm day. I could barely hear him above the screaming piglets, but understood that he was bringing a sack.
The piglets settled down after a while and about 20 minutes later Robbie appeared, the white sack catching the breeze like a flag. It was a relief to hand them over as my forearms were very tired! He very kindly took some photos for me before I got to work on the sow. She was pretty thin and both shoulders were ruined, so sadly I could only take the hind legs. Despite her condition, I couldn’t believe how heavy she was, dead weight! Pigs are very deceptive.
We will certainly be looking forward to having wild pork on the menu, and the piglets will be raised up for the freezer too. We still have the goat kids from our last hunting trip and they have become wonderful pets, although they are only attached to me. Now it was time to get the piglets, meat and one very muddy little dog home.
Shoot the moon 