I started hunting 10 years ago in 1993. My first “big game” hunts were
for spring turkey and archery deer and javelina. My first year proved
fruitless, but with some buddies’ help, I got lucky in the 1994 H.A.M.
(handgun, archery, muzzleloader) javelina season. For the next six
seasons, I continued hunting javelina, sometimes with others, sometimes
alone, but without tagging another pig.
In 2001, I started hunting the rifle season with my oldest son Bennet,
who completed Hunter’s Ed and turned 10 that year. What a disappointing
hunter-father I must have been to the poor lad. My pigless-streak continued
as we brought home unused tags in both 2001 and 2002. A visit by an angel
would make 2003 different though.
We left home on Saturday, the second day of the season, heading for
my favorite southern Arizona hunt unit, 36B. 36B is a fantastic whitetail
unit, but a rather a so-so unit for javelina. Most of the unit is at around
4000 to 4500 feet in elevation, a little higher than pigs prefer.
Nevertheless, I had run across a few javelina in the areas that I haunt when
questing after whitetail. I’ve hunted this unit a LOT in the last 10 years,
so I know the unit very well.
For a camp spot, we found a beautiful little spot in a grove of oak trees,
right off the main road. This camp is one that in the past, was always
taken early. But here it was, the second day of the season, and it was
still available!
I started to wonder whether most of the other 398 tag holders for this unit
had decided not to hunt due to the weather report. We were scheduled to get
a good dose of rain Tuesday through Thursday, the last days of the hunt.
Still, that left four days at the beginning of the hunt with fairly nice
weather. So where was everyone?
Our camp accommodations consisted of sleeping quarters under the camper shell
in the back of the pickup, and a Coleman screen house where we set up our
kitchen. By the time we set up camp, darkness was falling, so we really did
not get to hunt Saturday at all. Our first day of hunting would be the third
day of the season, Sunday.
It was this hunt, in this unit, last year, where the idea crystallized that,
“I need an ATV.” The result of that thought was the Polaris Ranger 4x4
utility vehicle I purchased last summer. I’m in debt up to my ears now due
to that purchase, but I’ve been having so much fun with this little buggy
that I almost don’t notice the financial strain that it has placed on my
allowance.
I must admit that the first couple of days we could actually hunt on this
trip were not spent in hard-core hunting mode. Ben and I were having fun
Rangering around, seeing some great country on roads that I had never taken
before. I had never taken these roads before because I was plumb too scared
to, with a full-size pickup truck, even with 4WD on that truck. The little
Polaris, with 4WD and a locking rear differential, just walks up very steep,
narrow, and rutted inclines, without much wheel spin or any other kind of
hysterics. Great fun, and it sure beats walking!
Oh, of course, we stopped at various overlooks and glassed around, but it was
always too easy to say, “OK. Nothing here. Let’s go somewhere else.” Yes,
I did recognize a certain laziness taking over. We also parked the
Ranger a couple of times, and took off on some good long hikes.
But by Monday afternoon, the weather was starting to move in. The sky started
getting increasingly grey, and the wind was whipping up. Moisture started
spitting out of the sky into our faces and the temperature was dropping.
That evening, I unpacked 5 tarps and tied and duct-taped them over the
windows of the screen house. We would be needing the extra protection over
the next several days.
Under threatening skies on Tuesday morning, Ben and I made sure that we packed
our rain gear and headed to the area that I knew pigs were likely to inhabit.
We parked the Ranger near the top of a hill overlooking the tank where my
brother Tony and I first spotted the herd that buddy Dave took his javelina
from in 1996.
We started by slowly hiking down to the tank, keeping a wary eye all around as
we walked. I pointed out to Ben the significant spots in the landscape from
past hunts.
There was the fence that I crossed when stalking the pigs in ’96 with my
muzzleloader. I left my possibles belt with reloads for the muzzleloader,
and more importantly, my Ruger Blackhawk, behind at the fence when I crossed.
I thought, "Who'll need a second shot when this big .54 caliber lead ball
slams home?" But when my chance came, I MISSED! So there I was, standing
around with an empty pipe while the pigs ran right past me.
And over there stood Uncle Tony who fired on a pig on that slope with my
7.62x39 AR-15. At the shot, the pig dropped down to the bottom of the
slope into the gully. Tony raises his hands into the air triumphantly,
"He shoots, he scores!" Only when he got there, there was no pig. Tony
said he saw a pig high-tailing it out of the gully, but because he lost
sight of his pig when it dropped, he figured that the running pig was just
another herd member.
I had plenty of Unit 36B stories to tell Ben, and he soaked them all in.
We found no sign at the tank, so we proceeded to slowly make a circuit of
the area. Next stop: Piggy Playland. I had found pigs at this spot on my
first hunt here in December 1994. Of course this was deer season, so all
I could do was sit back and watch the antics of the herd. This included
several young'uns who were making quite a squealing racket as they ran
around chasing each other. Nope. No piggies at Piggy Playland in 2003.
We eventually got back to the Ranger around lunch time. We saddled up and
headed back to camp which was a quick run only about two miles away.
After lunch, we headed back to the same area, but this time our plan was
to simply sit at the top of the hill overlooking the tank, and wait. With
the weather worsening, it now seemed more prudent to find a good,
Ranger-accessible vantage point, and just glass. That way, if the skies
were to open up in a big way, getting back to shelter would be pretty quick.
And it did rain on and off for the rest of the day, but nothing major.
No javelina sightings either.
That night is when the real rain began. It wasn't a deluge, but it was a
solid rain that lasted all night long. Ben and I were snug as a bug in
the back of the truck, but I told him, "If it's still raining in the
morning, we're sleeping-in, bud." It was, and we did.
We did get out for a couple of short hunts on foot that day, but the rain
kept us pretty close to camp. I got a good long afternoon nap though!
It is now Thursday morning, the last day of the season. It is also,
"Krag-Day". I have a few firearms - and most of them want to go hunting.
I brought along 5 for the trip. The first couple of days I hunted with
my Russian Scout rifle. Every day, I packed a polymer frame EAA Witness
auto-loader in .40 S&W on my hip. When I got tired of hauling around the
weight of the Scout, I broke out the Lone Eagle single-shot handgun in
.44 Magnum. On the rainiest days, I toted my synthetic-stocked .243
Browning A-Bolt. I saved my walnut-stocked, sporterized Krag carbine
for the last day. Ben hunted with his TC Contender carbine
in 6.5mm TCU.
The skies were a 50-50 mix of blue sky and moist swift-moving clouds on
this last day. The plan that morning was to head to the most likely area
that I knew of, so it was back to the area of the tank and Piggy Playland.
The main road is cut right into the side of the big mountain in this area.
We made a high circuit of the Piggy Playland area which allowed us some
good glassing views toward the brushy bottoms of the tank and Piggy Playland
itself. Though we were high, the main road just to our east was still higher.
When we made our third stop to glass, I pulled out my binoculars and
suggested to Ben that it might be a good idea for him to pull out his
binoculars too. I had given him an old set of compact binoculars that
I no longer used. They reside in a belt pouch for easy access. The
only problem was that the belt pouch was now open, and empty.
"You lost them?" "They're probably back at the rock where I was glassing."
"What rock? Where we just came from, where we were having some snacks?"
"No. The one before that." I was fuming.
We did not immediately go back to look for the binos. We continued our
circuit, and eventually started heading back in the direction of the Ranger.
When we got to the top of "Coyote Hill", marked by a dead tree, we could see
the first rock about a quarter-mile away. I sent him off with GPS and FRS
radio to go look for the binos, while I waited at the top of Coyote Hill.
He reported that he could not find them at First Rock. The hunt had
degenerated from a hunt for javelina into a hunt for binoculars. Over
the radio, I asked him whether he thought he could find his way to the
second rock on his own. "I think so." "Then I'll meet you there."
I soon caught up with Ben at Second Rock. We searched there for a while,
still coming up empty-handed. "Well, that's it. They're gone." Sullenly,
we walked back to the Ranger, and rode back to camp for lunch.
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Guns & Loads
Ben's Contender Carbine
Ben's rifle is a G1 Contender carbine from the TC Custom Shop,
chambered for the 6.5mm TCU. As a Custom Shop Contender, the
frame is slab-sided (no cougar engraving). With a youth-length
stock, and a custom length 18" barrel, the rifle is a very short
31" in overall length. It's hard to imagine a more perfect
rifle for a young boy's javelina gun.
Like the more popular 7mm TCU, Ben's cartridge is based on a
necked-up and blown-out .223 Remington case. Ben is a bit
recoil shy, so I download for him using 16.5 grains of Accurate
Arms XMP-5744 topped off with a 100 grain Nosler Ballistic Tip
bullet. This load yields around 1900 fps out of Ben's barrel
for a muzzle energy of around 800 ft-lbs.
I originally ordered the rifle for Ben with TC peep sights,
but we found that he shoots better with a low power scope.
For the last 3 seasons, Ben's Contender has been wearing Grampa
Rex's old steel-tube Texas Weaver K3 (fixed 3-power).
Dan's Krag Sporter
I wrote about this rifle a couple of issues ago. Since then I
have verified that the rifle was originally manufactured in 1901,
making it 102 years old this season. The rifle has been fitted
with a Lyman Model 57K rear peep sight and a Lyman sporter front
sight. According to the previous owner, it has been wearing the
current walnut stock for the last 15 years or so. It was his
Dad's for as long as he can remember, which takes it back at
least 40 years in his family.
My load for the .30-40 Krag cartridge is 38.0 grains of IMR 4320
under a 170 grain flat point. Flat points in this weight are
available from several bullet-makers and are actually designed
for the .30-30. I haven't chronographed this load, but book
specs would place it around 2150 fps - right at the top, or maybe
a shade hotter than .30-30 specs for this bullet weight. The books
say that I could probably get another 100 to 200 fps out of this
bullet weight, but I don't feel compelled to push this old rifle
hard. This load feeds beautifully from the Krag magazine with an
overall length of 3.00 inches. I've had problems feeding light
(short) spitzers from the magazine. The Krag feed system was
designed for long and heavy round nose bullets.
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After eating lunch and refueling the Ranger, the plan was to head to an
area five miles in the OTHER direction, since it was looking increasingly
unlikely that we would find any pigs in the traditional area.
Ben was already sitting in the Ranger and I was zipping closed the screen
house on the way to the Ranger when we heard an ATV coming down the road.
The rider pulled into camp and started making small talk.
"Hunting pigs? Seen any? This really isn't a very good unit for pigs, is
it? I've only seen one. Hey, you were hunting up the road this morning,
weren't you? I recognize the kid's orange cap. We were watching you this
morning from above. Looked like the boy was making a stalk."
"Yeah, he was stalking binoculars. No, we haven't seen any pigs, and this
afternoon is our last chance."
"How do you like that thing?" (pointing to the Ranger) "Man, I love it.
Goes just about anywhere." "What kind of an engine does it have?" "It's
got a 500cc single." "Same engine as this one?" It was only then that I
realized that he was sitting on a Polaris Sportsman 500. "Yeah, same engine!"
"Yeah, I only saw the one pig, about an hour or two ago, actually - You know,
he was only about a mile south of where you were this morning." "Really?
Did you go after him?" "Me? Naw. I'm out here hunting lion. I could show
you, if you want." "Sure! Lead the way!"
We followed him up the main road, past our area until he got to the spot that he
spotted the javelina from. "See that lone tree down there? The pig walked
down from there into that canyon and disappeared. I bet you he's still around.
I would sit up here and glass for awhile, and I bet you'll see him again."
"Thanks man!" I stuck out my paw to shake his hand, but he was looking the
other way and didn't take it. I said thanks again, and hopped back into the
Ranger and motored around to a faint short trail that led off from the main road.
Our fellow Polaris man rode off.
Where we parked, we were about a quarter mile away from, and about 160 feet
higher than the canyon bottom our friend had pointed out to us. There were
two rocky ledges on the slope between us and the canyon bottom. We walked
down to the first, higher ledge and sat down to glass.
Seeing nothing after glassing for about half-an-hour, I asked Ben if he
thought we should go down one level to the next ledge. He agreed and down
we went. We sat there for about another 45 minutes before I spotted a pig
coming back upstream at the bottom of the canyon. "Ben! Ben! Take a look!"
About 1 minute later, piggy number 2 comes into view, and 30 seconds after
that, piggy number 3. We were about 200 yards away. I told Ben to start
packing up his daypack and to put it on. I noticed he was shaking a little.
"Are you scared?" "No, just a little cold."
We worked our way down the slope and across a side-draw until we were about
40 yards away. They were just off the bottom on the opposite slope. They
were so busy abusing the shindaggers, that they never noticed us.
Shindaggers are a small agave-type plant with very sharp points growing just
high enough to stab you in the shins as you walk through them. They were
pulling leaves off the spiny plants and eating the fleshy part near the base
of each leaf. When they would finish up the leaves, they ate the heart out
of the plant just as if it were an artichoke.
Ben and I came to agreement on who would shoot which pig. He chose the
light-colored one. I told him that I would wait to shoot until he shot first.
He sat down on the slope and deployed his shooting sticks. I moved off about
15 yards, knelt down, and started peering through the Krag's peep sight.
Before each hunt for the last three years, I would take Ben out and have him
practice on a javelina target. He knew where to aim. I had him practice at
ranges up to about 50 yards. I had made him a set of shooting sticks custom
made to his size. If he remembered to concentrate, and to sque-e-e-eze the
trigger, not close his eyes and yank, he was quite capable of putting that
bullet exactly where he wanted it.
It seemed like I had that front sight plastered on my pig for a long time, but
in reality, it was probably only about 30 seconds. I heard Ben's rifle go off,
and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ben's pig go down immediately and fall
to the bottom of the draw. Oh yeah, it's my turn now! I finalized my aim,
and about two seconds later, the Krag fired.
My pig was hit, but still on its feet. It was wobbling around a little, and
there was some "stuff" poking out of its side. I jacked-in another round and
fired again. Still on his feet! I cycled another round and fired again.
Still standing! But in a moment, I saw my pig too, slide down to the bottom
of the draw. Out of the three pigs, there is one very lucky one, still
wandering around out there.
We found the two pigs lying in the trickle of water at the bottom of the draw
with only 1 foot of distance separating the two. Ben's shot was perfectly
placed. I was impressed by how cleanly his relatively low velocity, light
weight Ballistic Tip dispatched his critter.
My shot, on the other hand, hit a little too far back. The Krag threw a
thick-enough, heavy-enough flat point slug, so even the bad hit made the
piggy too sick to scamper off. Of the second and third shots I fired, one
grazed a knee, and the other apparently missed.
So was that guy on the Polaris for real? He said he was watching us earlier
that morning from above. He didn't take my hand to shake it when I offered
it out. Remember that we had seen few other hunters during the whole trip.
For sure, we had never seen him before he motored up to our camp, at the exact
moment we were about to leave to head in the opposite direction! -- at the
exact moment that it would have made a difference in making the hunt another
Martinez skunk-out, or a success. And after he motored off, we never saw him
again. By following his suggestion of glassing and waiting, the pigs
materialized exactly where he said they would. Could it be, that we were
actually visited by an angel?
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