It's hard being a cold-blooded killer. There is nothing than can prepare a person for the gruesome reality that results from inserting your firearm behind the ear of your victim. The blood and brain back spraying all over your gun and arm almost to your own face. The pink and purple goop that oozes onto your shoes as you stand and stare at the collapsed body, you have just ended of life.
The chase of the dogs as they 'bayed up' on one of the five little piglets combined with the squealing as you fly almost straight down a steep hill chasing both dogs and pigs through all obstacles, trees, rocks, thorn bushes dirt and rocks while picking up the deadly tick along the way, send the waves of adrenaline fueled excitement coursing through a sore body and tired mind previously filled with thoughts of another unsuccessful pig hunt. .
The squealing of the little pig as the dogs pinned and nipped at its flesh. The watching of the guide grab and restrain the dogs as he tackles the little pig because you were too slow, almost ten yards behind in keeping up. A long cold stare into the eyes of the little piglet you are getting ready to take the to take the life of. A reassurance from myself to the guide that this is indeed the desired quarry, and then
BAM!
.
.
.
.
.
It’s over! You have become a pig killer!
Even harder to deal with, yet another long distance missed shot, at the mother of that piglet you just took. You could argue that it was not your gun, winded sweaty and shooting from the hip. You could argue a lot of things. But when it comes right down to it, instead of shooting over the shoulder, at 250 yards, I should have hit that big fast moving bitch! Instead of having to chase down the 60lb barbecue special I ended up with.
I tell you it’s hard. But you learn to get by …You learn to get by….
….
Oh Yeah and Pre shot a 250 pounder in another canyon about 15 minutes later. But I’ll let him tell you all about that!
All together we shot 1 rattlesnake and three pigs. Pres was the biggest followed up by the 175 to 200 lb mother of the 60lb piglet I shot. My guide after 10 hours of solid hunting and having fulfilled his obligation to me still had enough in him to run over to the canyon by Pre and take it for himself. Good for him. At that point I was too tired to care and happy that big bitch didn’t get away. That will teach her not to jump into my bullet. No pictures though, too dark by the time we got the pigs back to skin. Had to hang them up in the tree and skin them by truck light.
1400 miles, a 60lb barbecue special, a victory beer, a good marinated caribou dinner with Pre and wife, some nice wine, two overturned cars, one squashed rabbit (oops), a rattlesnake tail, a matching set of deer horns, enough bugs to cause me to stop several times to clean the windshield (which is a story in itself), a nasty tick, combined with the most important fact of my wife being able to join me for this years fun and joy, left for some good good memories that I will enjoy for years to come.
It’s good to be home back in Oregon where I belong!
Paule is Walnuts
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