Its impossible for me to recall all the stalks and shot opportunities of this hunt. Most of em ended up with us getting winded by the ever changing breeze that seems to be what Cape York hunting is known for. If a pig or bull was spotted, we had to be johnny-on-the-spot trying to get in range before the wind swirled. Sometimes the pigs were just on alert and busted us from afar, and other times they just disappeared by the time we got to where they were.
On the 4th day, while I was doubled over, coughing up brown stuff that was the consistancy of bearing grease, Mick said, "Lets go kill you a hog." I grabbed my pack and my longbow and we set off for a small swamp that was about a mile down the road from camp.
We eased up to the swamp and took a seat on some logs, so we could over look the area and see if any hogs were moving. The ducks, spoonbills and parrots had caused a ruckus when we walked up, which could've ruined a stalk for us if we had seen any pigs. After about 10 minutes or less, a tree about 50 yards away with a large exposed root system seemed to come alive with pigs. Me and Mick slipped our boots off and proceeded to try to slip into bow range of one of them. However, before we got there, the boss sow had lead the rest of the pigs around the edge of the swamp to the opposite side. Me and Mick backed away into the surrounding trees, and began parallelling the pigs on the opposite shore, hoping to cut them off. Mick stopped often to glass the hogs to keep them in sight. Suddenly, Mick said, "How did we miss that boar that was laying there?" Sure enough, a boar had been bedded on the opposite side from us, but had only gotten up when the birds started raising hell at our movements. When the birds stopped, the boar laid back down.
Me and Mick then focused our energy on trying to get me within bow range of this boar. Once, we came within 20 yards of the group that we had originally set out to stalk, and I nearly killed that sow, but Mick pulled me away from her, and assured me that I wanted this boar.
The boar had repeatedly laid down, stood up, and laid back down. All his actions were governed by these squawkin birds that were trying to give us away. Finally, the birds went silent, and the boar laid on his side, with his belly facing me, and his head to my right. Mick turned the stalk over to me about 40 yards out, and told me that the boar had a tree in front of his head, and that I needed to keep it there, and not expose his head, otherwise he'd see me, and the gig would be up. I knew how correct he was, as I had made a bad shot on a boar on the 1st morning of the hunt, because a boar had seen me move when I was trying to draw while hiding behind a tree. Its amazing how fast a boar can go from laying to running...its faster than my longbow, anyway.
So, I close in. Finally at 13 yards, I run out of cover. I can't lean too far out, but I need to get my bow limb clear of an overhanging tree limb. Then, I need to lean out even more because I got a stick in front of the hogs vitals that I need to shoot around. I musta looked like a fat gumby trying to stretch out around all the trees and stuff in order to get into position. I looked back at Mick and nodded. He gave me the thumbs up, and I began my draw.....
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