With the last morning bearing down on the gang talk around the supper table was of how best to sneak in one last hunt. Everyone had early flights to make and most figured an hour or two in the morning would be fine.
Don't you just love it! The guys just couldn't give it up.
Morning came and attitudes remained the same, but reality had a much firmer hold than the night before. There were inspections at the airport to go through and the lines that go with that. There was the possibility of overly long tracking jobs to consider and vehicle malfunction had to be factored into the equation as well.
Since Curtis and I were the only ones with no time schedule to meet we bid farewell to our brothers in arms and headed for the brush. Leaving good friends is always a bitter pill to swallow, but we had soon washed it down with a cup of goin huntin and eased away from camp with high spirits and strung bows.
I'd grilled Bob Walker pretty thoroughly the night before about the spot he'd been hunting. Seems from talk around the table that he was one who'd experience the most sightings... not to mention shooting.
He gave me detailed directions to his "honey hole" and with my usual razor wit I promptly let them confuse me.
But Curtis knew exactly where Bob was talking about and since he and I had yet to hunt together we teamed up for this last morning.
While I worked one sendero, Curtis would work another close by. If he had any javie action at his location he would come and get me. Sounded like a plan to me.
I had action of my own almost immediately. I'd been looking for one last bunny to murder when I looked back down the sendero. I'd just come from that direction and didn't expect to see anything, but a shadow cast across the trail by a mesquite looked strange somehow.
Raising my binoculars to check it out, I could plainly see three javies feeding merrily in the trail road. The stalk was on.
Unfortunately, it took longer to close the distance than I'd figured and by the time I got close enough to sneak a look, the little musk hogs were gone. Poop! I was a little let down, figuring a guy would only get so many last minute chances and this was probably all I'd get.
Stepping out into the sendero I walked back toward the junction of another to see if maybe something was going on there.
It was about this time that I spotted Curtis truck. Figuring that he was coming to get me for the ride back to camp I trudged in his direction. Curtis is always considerate of my old knees and pulled down to shorten the distance of my walk.
As I slid my bow into the cab of the truck he told me he'd just left a group of javies on another sendero and we needed to go play.
My spirits immediately jumped and hunter mode replaced going home mode. Shortly we were back where he'd seem the javies and sure enough, there they were. Parking the truck out of sight, I grabbed my bow and Curtis grabbed his camera. He'd try and get a little of the action on video.
Our starting point gave us a favorable wind which was also strong enough to cover any tell tale noised we might make in the soft dust bordering the sendero. Soon we were within 50 yards of our quarry and all was going well.
The javies were now feeding away from us and it looked like we'd have to cross a long coverless stretch to close the gap. It would be a risk, but I could see no other alternative.
However! Curtis was intimately familiar with this stretch of trail and figured the javies would feed around a corner and out of sight. I figured that meant we'd close the distance as soon as they got behind the shielding cover.
In whispered tones, Curtis told me he thought the javies would round the corner and come right back out, since the little cove dead ended just a few yards into the cactus. A smart man knows not to "guide the guide" so we slid forward into what we thought would be a favorable ambush site.
We only waited a minute or two and I questioned whether the animals had really just eased on into the thicket. I guess it's doubt that adds to the excitement factor of any hunt and I was certainly excited.
Shortly I spotted the first javie as it fed back out of the little inlet in the sendero. It was a nice boar and he seemed to lead his buddies and they fed noisilly along.
I anticipated where the shot would come and positioned my body behind some cactus at an angle that would give me a favorable body angle. I waited on one knee as the javelina fed, while behind me CK worked his majic with the camera.
There was no doubt in my mind that Curtis would handle the situation without buggering it and also get the proper angle for the video action. I forgot about the camera and focused my full attention on the approaching game.
As the boar finally moved out from behind the shielding cover I positioned my bow and put slight pressure on the string. A razor sharp Magnus I w/bleeder sitting on the end of my Carbonwood shaft pointed at the spot I knew I'd take the shot.
When the javie cleared the cover I didn't like the angle and waited a little longer than I probably should have to take the shot. That meant I was fully exposed and apt to be spotted at any moment.
Finally, it was go time. The carbon shaft slid slowly across the rest in a movement designed to escape detection and as I touched anchor the arrow was away. It crossed the short space to my target in a blink and buried in the little pigs shoulder. Suddenly CK and I were alone and I stood to listen for the retreating javelina.
Action Video Curtis was with me in an instant... excited as I was. He curse mildly (but frequently) as he checked the camera and thought for a second or two that he'd messed up and hadn't had the camera on video mode.
Disappointment set in on him, but I could have cared less. I was sure I had a solid hit and was more focused on recovery of the javie. I'd learned that until you have one of those tough little guys in hand, the game ain't over.
Soon we heard the unmistakable sound of javie jaws popping off in the brush about 50 yards away. It was a sign that the little tusker was dying and I breathed a sigh of relief.
We formed a recovery plan and Curtis walked to the truck to bring it closer and to retrieve "Sweet spot".... his tracking, brush busting, hog/javie whacking pick axe handle.
By now several minutes had passed so we took the trail. Curtis immediately found blood sign and eased a little deeper into the brush.
I was several feet to his side when he started yelling, "get outta here!!! GET!!!". Puzzled, I asked what was going on.
"There's a damn javie right here", he said pointing right in front of him, "and he's mad as hell".
Taking a step back he half raised "Sweet Spot" in case the javie rushed him. Javelina can be very protective of there herd mates and for a moment that's what we thought was going on.
Once more Curtis took a step forward and once again stopped, saying the javie was right there in front of him. "Wait! It's got a wound in it's side. Get over here!!"
I slid a big two blade on the string and eased into the cover from where Curtis had taken a couple of steps back. I could just make out grizzled gray hair through the tangle. Looking for any kind of opening I could find I finally was able to make out a four inch hole that would let my arrow pass directly to the wounded javies shoulder.
The arrow was gone in a flash, burying deep in the javie and stopped only by the dirt behind him. That settled it.
Soon CK and I were shaking hands over my second javelina of the season and a last minute success.
Topic: The road goes on-Moderator Meltdown (Read 21279 times)
