Number 17

[1uglydude]

I tagged my first javelina in February of 2011.  It took me four years just to see a javelina, and five years to finally get one.  At that time, I set a goal to tag 20 by my 40th birthday, which will be in February of 2022.  I figured I would have to rely on reservation tags to reach it, but when the Department increased the annual bag limit to two, the goal became a whole lot easier.  With a mix of leftover and reservation tags, the goal looks to be in sight (hope I don't jinx it).  Since that first pig in 2011, I have been a part of 48 javelina harvests...either helping others or tagging them myself.  17 of those have been mine. 

This is the story of number 17.

I picked up a leftover archery tag in one of the central block units thinking that I would have plenty of time to get out in January.  As it turns out, I only had one day to hunt.  January 10th.  Unfortunately, none of my usual hunting partners were available to accompany me.  My wife has a rule against me hunting alone (which has saved me at least once), so I called her cousin's husband who had once told me that he would like to observe a hunt some time just to see what it is like.  He was free that day and jumped at that chance.   So, I picked up my babysitter at 5am and we hit the road.

I was a little slower to get moving that morning.  It was clear, but very very cold.  A somewhat dry front had moved through the night before and left us with a stiff north wind.  In the past, that has made for very productive javelina glassing, usually all day.  There had been a bright full moon all night, but with it being so cold I didn't think it would factor into our day much.  In my estimation we would have a lot of time to find them, so there was no use in putting ourselves through a cold and dark ranger ride when a cold ranger ride at sunrise would give us the same result.

The destination was a drainage that I had glassed from several miles away three or four years ago.  It looked good from afar, and I have always wanted to get in there and look around some.  It seemed to have everything I was looking for, including plenty of south facing, succulent-covered hillsides.  We crested into the basin at about 745 and I got the feeling that I need to stop and look at the hill in front of us before moving on to the high point I had in mind.  Within 30 seconds I caught two javelina slowly feeding their way near the very top of the ridge.

I called my babysitter over to have a look (his first time ever seeing javelina in the wild), and while he watched them they topped out and disappeared.  I wasn't sure if we had been looking at a satellite group of boars, or if we had caught the tail end of a larger herd, but it was certainly worth investigating.  As we made our way up the ridge, there was fresh sign everywhere, which suggested to me that we were on the trail of more than just two pigs.  After some huffing and puffing we made it to the top, where there was a secluded bowl that I was certain would be full of pigs, but it was empty.  The ground doesn't lie.  It was clear that they had been there recently, but now all was still.

I decided to walk slowly up the side of the bowl in the general direction our two tail end Charlies had been headed, and within a few minutes I caught sight of a large herd walking along the spine of the next ridge over.  They were not in a hurry, but they certainly had a destination in mind.  After some quick adjustments to make sure we could keep the wind in our favor, we hurried off in pursuit.

It only took us about 15-20 minutes to get to where we last saw the herd top out for the second time.  Again, I approached a secluded bowl, arrow ready, expecting to be in the middle of a herd.  Once again, there was nothing to be seen.  Stumped, I started searching the ground for sign, hoping to see evidence of where they had gone, but the ground was frozen solid and wasn't telling the story.  I started up the new ridge, but for some reason turned and looked to the left.  Across the canyon about 300 yards away I could see a herd of pigs, some feeding, and some sound asleep in the sun.  I still can't say with 100% certainty that this was the herd we had been trailing, but it sure seems like it was.  They had managed to cover about 600 yards as the pig walks from where we had last seen them, down a nasty hill and half way up another.  Not only that, they had done so with enough time to allow half of their crew to start their nap.  Where they were now bedded was about a mile where we had caught sight of the first two.  If it weren't for the fact that the herd was the same size with the same ratio of young pigs to big pigs, I would have guessed that I was looking at a new herd.

Even if it was a new herd though, what surprised me is that after an ice cold and windy night, we had a herd of pigs that was down and sleeping by 9am.  Where they were laid up, it was easily 15 degrees warmer and completely out of the wind.  It was strategic.  All of my previous experience told me that this was the time for them to be up and about doing their feeding in the sun, but it looks like this particular herd filled their bellies under the cold full moon.  At a time I expected movement, all they wanted was sleep.

With the wind the way it was, there was only one approach for me to get to the herd.  I had to down the nasty slope, completely exposed to them and then right back up at them.  I left my babysitter to watch the show and started slowly down the slope.   One by one the rest of the herd made its way to the growing pig pile until only one individual was left out in the open.  When I was 80 yards away from the herd, but still on the wrong side of the canyon, that single pig caught my movement and locked in on me.  I held perfectly still, half in the catclaw and one foot on uneven ground for a good 10 minutes before she turned her head to feed again.  No sooner had I started to move than I rolled a rock and she flipped back around to investigate.  This time she stared my way for even longer...however long it takes for my thigh to cramp up.  About the time I thought I couldn't take any more she turned and started feeding again.  A few minutes later I was in the bottom and out of her field of view.  I checked in with my babysitter and he reported that she had moved over towards the rest of the herd to join the group nap.  It had taken me over an hour to move 100 yards and to drop about 200 feet.

This was the babysitter's view as I finally made my way up the hill.  The formerly alert pig is in the pile of two on the left, and there are 10 or so pigs in the pile on the right.

I slowly made my way up the hill, and eventually found myself 20 yards to the left of where you see the smaller group of pigs in the photo, but I couldn't see them through the grass.  I sat down on a flat rock and just waited.  Every five minutes or so a pig would stand up and shift, and more than once I started to draw back, only to have my target lay back down and out of sight.  I passed the time ranging various rocks and bushes while I waited, and prayed that the wind would remain constant.

After about 20 mintues on my rock, and several balking draws, something tipped off the herd and they suddenly blew out from their tree in all directions.  I can only assume that my scent somehow found its way to one of them.  In any event, one of the pigs in the closer group (I believe it was the same one that gave me the cramping stare down) suddenly appeared in front of a cactus that I had previously ranged at 18 yards.  I drew back and hit her a bit high on the shoulder, but it was enough to put her down and she tumbled down the hill.  Her reaction to the arrow brought some of her herd mates, and I was soon surrounded on three sides by woofing pigs, some no more than two or three yards from me.  My babysitter had never seen that before, and thought for sure that I was about to be attacked.

Here I am approaching the sow after she had stopped rolling down the hill. 

And here is a close up of javelina number 17:

It was a memorable day, and I learned a lot.  Each time I think I know what they are going to do, they surprise me.  Nearly four hours passed from the first sighting to when I let an arrow fly.  They covered a ton of ground and weren't doing what I thought they'd do, but that's what makes it "hunting."

 

 

[PRDATR]

Awesome story man, you definately earned that one.

[Roboz]

Very cool story..congratulations on a great hunt!

[Mr September]

Very Nice! Maybe give the "baby sitter" a name??? I don't know, just seems a little dismissive... Congrats!

[Evan T]

Congratulations. Great write up of your hunt.

[eom]

Congrats!