Dave and I had been hunting sika deer since sunrise. It was cool for August at Buffalo Creek Ranch in the The Texas Hill Country, but otherwise a clear and typical day. Sika are among the most challenging deer to hunt. They thrive in the deep cover which abounds in this part of Texas. They have adapted so well to this shadowy environment that hunters are sometimes convinced that sika are figments of our imagination. Then the shrill, whistling bugle of the rutting stags cuts though the air and shatters all such conclusions. Such it was on this day.
It was now crowding 10:00am and we had decided to head back to the house for a well earned breakfast. As we emerged from the mouth of an especially steep and thickly wooded canyon, we came upon a deep ravine which cut its way up the side of Boar Mountain. This was the name we had bestowed on this rugged heap of Texas rock, brush and oak some 16 years ago, as a result of the successful hunts for wild boar we had made on and around its slopes.
Before driving past this ravine in the hunting vehicle, I suggested that Dave let me scout a bit, on the off chance that we might see some game. Dave was willing and I left him in the vehicle. I walked quickly and as silently as I could to the edge of the draw. I suggested this plan because of the steady breeze that placed us downwind of any game that might be in the draw.
The wind in the hills is usually fickle, but this morning she was constant. I had long ago learned that scent was the key to hunting most game. Even if an animal sees or hears the hunter, the impulse to flee is almost always triggered by scent. If we could take advantage of this wind, we might be in a position to surprise anything that happened to be in the ravine.
As I peered over the edge of the draw, I saw a huge gray boulder on the edge of a small, spring-fed, pool of water. There was no sign of life in the draw. Despite the fact that I saw nothing with my unaided eyes, I raised my binoculars to scan the ravine. This was a habit which I had acquired long ago. How many times have I been unable to see anything, only to be surprised by what I could perceive when I had used my optics!
Even with the glasses, however, all was still. I was about to turn back when I thought I saw movement by the pool. I focused my binoculars on this area, not more than 40 yards from my vantage point. There was nothing but the steady breeze. Once again, the huge gray boulder was in my line of sight. Then it dawned on me that I had been on this spot innumerable times in the past and I had never seen this great rock before! Perhaps it had rolled from the hillside above, I thought. I again looked carefully at the rock. It was then that I saw ears and the gleam of white…what were they? Tusks!
The boar was simply enormous, a least 6 feet long and perhaps half again as wide! Best of all, he was completely unaware of my presence. The blessed breeze, still steady, had completely obliterated my scent. He was facing upwind, obviously having only recently entered the pool to seek refuge from the coming heat of the August day.
I ran back to tell Dave. He was a Californian who had hunted wild pigs all his life. He told me honestly that he probably would not be interested in yet another pig. I thought about this, but this was such a unique trophy, I prevailed upon him to hear me out. When I finished, he agreed to walk up with me (I think just to see what I was talking about and to humor me).
In a few moments we had reached the spot and Dave saw the boar. We had a brief discussion about the potential size of the animal and despite all of his prior pig experience, Dave was impressed enough to take a shot. The boar was facing away, at a slight angle. His near shoulder was perfectly exposed. I knew that Dave was an excellent shot (he had killed a trophy Corsican ram the day before, with one shot, while the animal was running in a herd about 160 yards away). I had complete confidence that he would precisely place the 130 grain Hornady slug from his .270 Winchester right through the boar’s heart. Dave took a steady rest on a scrub oak tree on the edge of the ravine. He was ready to fire.
The .270 is my all time favorite cartridge. I have used the .270 or witnessed its use in taking literally hundreds of big game animals from diminutive whitetail and blackbuck antelope to bull elk. When used with the right bullets it can cleanly take the full spectrum of game, provided the hunter places his shots well. I had no doubt that with proper shot placement Dave could put this boar’s lights out where he lay. In fact I actually had second thoughts, because I feared that if Dave did kill this animal where he was, we would have a hell of a time trying to get him out of the pool and the thick mud in which he had been wallowing. These were the thoughts running through my mind when I heard Dave shoot.
The huge boar jumped clear out of the pool at the sound of the shot. He ran upwind, still facing away and we could already see blood streaming from Dave’s perfectly placed heart shot. In the next instant the boar wheeled about and looked directly uphill. He had undoubtedly seen us and in the second that it took for Dave and I to realize what had happened, the boar sprinted uphill. He was charging right for us!
Dave had three more rounds in his magazine. He worked the bolt smoothly and kept his head. In the seconds that it took the huge boar to close the 40 yard gap from the pool to our position, Dave delivered those rounds into the chest and shoulders of the animal. It was a masterful display of shooting skill and by the time the huge animal had reached our spot, he was blowing blood from his nostrils all over the ground below him. He was also still on his feet and still coming for us!
I am convinced that the wind, which even then kept our scent from him, was our savior that day. Dave and I managed to pull back into the grove of scrub oaks on the edge of the draw and the boar, miraculously, rushed by. We could have reached out and touched him as he passed! He ran another 30 yards and stopped, obviously trying to get our scent and locate us for another charge.
I told Dave to…”shoot him again!”. Dave replied that he had no more ammo with him. He had left the rest in the vehicle, which was another 40 yards or so beyond the boar. I was convinced that the boar would go down and be finished, but he kept circling and looking for his antagonists. It soon became apparent that though he was mortally wounded, the wounds were not going to be immediately fatal. We had no choice but to hold our ground and wait for an opening.
This finally came when he walked away at a slight quartering angle. I used this opening to sprint to the vehicle. Once I got behind the wheel, I raced back to Dave. He grabbed the rest of his ammo and refilled his magazine with 4 fresh rounds, placing a 5th in the chamber.
In an instant, the .270 roared and 5 more rounds were delivered with what should have been devastating effect. All the shots were perfectly placed, yet the huge boar was still on his feet! We were shocked and astounded. Fortunately, Dave had the presence of mind to reload immediately after his last round went home and he was able to cycle his action 4 more times, finally bringing the brute to ground.
Dave and I were shocked, exhausted and amazed! The boar had taken 13 well placed shots, at less than 50 yards, before he succumbed! It took us 15 minutes to decide that the beast was down for good and another 20 minutes to get up enough courage to approach him where he lay. He was positively enormous! Ground shrinkage was certainly not a factor!
He measured 8’4” from nose to butt. His girth was an incredible 75”! His tusks were equally huge, measuring 7” from his lower jaw. I estimated that he had at least another 6” of ivory embedded in the jaw. Using length + girth formulae we estimated his live weight at 1,200lbs!
Even to a seasoned pig hunter, this was the trophy of a lifetime!
It was now crowding 10:00am and we had decided to head back to the house for a well earned breakfast. As we emerged from the mouth of an especially steep and thickly wooded canyon, we came upon a deep ravine which cut its way up the side of Boar Mountain. This was the name we had bestowed on this rugged heap of Texas rock, brush and oak some 16 years ago, as a result of the successful hunts for wild boar we had made on and around its slopes.
Before driving past this ravine in the hunting vehicle, I suggested that Dave let me scout a bit, on the off chance that we might see some game. Dave was willing and I left him in the vehicle. I walked quickly and as silently as I could to the edge of the draw. I suggested this plan because of the steady breeze that placed us downwind of any game that might be in the draw.
The wind in the hills is usually fickle, but this morning she was constant. I had long ago learned that scent was the key to hunting most game. Even if an animal sees or hears the hunter, the impulse to flee is almost always triggered by scent. If we could take advantage of this wind, we might be in a position to surprise anything that happened to be in the ravine.
As I peered over the edge of the draw, I saw a huge gray boulder on the edge of a small, spring-fed, pool of water. There was no sign of life in the draw. Despite the fact that I saw nothing with my unaided eyes, I raised my binoculars to scan the ravine. This was a habit which I had acquired long ago. How many times have I been unable to see anything, only to be surprised by what I could perceive when I had used my optics!
Even with the glasses, however, all was still. I was about to turn back when I thought I saw movement by the pool. I focused my binoculars on this area, not more than 40 yards from my vantage point. There was nothing but the steady breeze. Once again, the huge gray boulder was in my line of sight. Then it dawned on me that I had been on this spot innumerable times in the past and I had never seen this great rock before! Perhaps it had rolled from the hillside above, I thought. I again looked carefully at the rock. It was then that I saw ears and the gleam of white…what were they? Tusks!
The boar was simply enormous, a least 6 feet long and perhaps half again as wide! Best of all, he was completely unaware of my presence. The blessed breeze, still steady, had completely obliterated my scent. He was facing upwind, obviously having only recently entered the pool to seek refuge from the coming heat of the August day.
I ran back to tell Dave. He was a Californian who had hunted wild pigs all his life. He told me honestly that he probably would not be interested in yet another pig. I thought about this, but this was such a unique trophy, I prevailed upon him to hear me out. When I finished, he agreed to walk up with me (I think just to see what I was talking about and to humor me).
In a few moments we had reached the spot and Dave saw the boar. We had a brief discussion about the potential size of the animal and despite all of his prior pig experience, Dave was impressed enough to take a shot. The boar was facing away, at a slight angle. His near shoulder was perfectly exposed. I knew that Dave was an excellent shot (he had killed a trophy Corsican ram the day before, with one shot, while the animal was running in a herd about 160 yards away). I had complete confidence that he would precisely place the 130 grain Hornady slug from his .270 Winchester right through the boar’s heart. Dave took a steady rest on a scrub oak tree on the edge of the ravine. He was ready to fire.
The .270 is my all time favorite cartridge. I have used the .270 or witnessed its use in taking literally hundreds of big game animals from diminutive whitetail and blackbuck antelope to bull elk. When used with the right bullets it can cleanly take the full spectrum of game, provided the hunter places his shots well. I had no doubt that with proper shot placement Dave could put this boar’s lights out where he lay. In fact I actually had second thoughts, because I feared that if Dave did kill this animal where he was, we would have a hell of a time trying to get him out of the pool and the thick mud in which he had been wallowing. These were the thoughts running through my mind when I heard Dave shoot.
The huge boar jumped clear out of the pool at the sound of the shot. He ran upwind, still facing away and we could already see blood streaming from Dave’s perfectly placed heart shot. In the next instant the boar wheeled about and looked directly uphill. He had undoubtedly seen us and in the second that it took for Dave and I to realize what had happened, the boar sprinted uphill. He was charging right for us!
Dave had three more rounds in his magazine. He worked the bolt smoothly and kept his head. In the seconds that it took the huge boar to close the 40 yard gap from the pool to our position, Dave delivered those rounds into the chest and shoulders of the animal. It was a masterful display of shooting skill and by the time the huge animal had reached our spot, he was blowing blood from his nostrils all over the ground below him. He was also still on his feet and still coming for us!
I am convinced that the wind, which even then kept our scent from him, was our savior that day. Dave and I managed to pull back into the grove of scrub oaks on the edge of the draw and the boar, miraculously, rushed by. We could have reached out and touched him as he passed! He ran another 30 yards and stopped, obviously trying to get our scent and locate us for another charge.
I told Dave to…”shoot him again!”. Dave replied that he had no more ammo with him. He had left the rest in the vehicle, which was another 40 yards or so beyond the boar. I was convinced that the boar would go down and be finished, but he kept circling and looking for his antagonists. It soon became apparent that though he was mortally wounded, the wounds were not going to be immediately fatal. We had no choice but to hold our ground and wait for an opening.
This finally came when he walked away at a slight quartering angle. I used this opening to sprint to the vehicle. Once I got behind the wheel, I raced back to Dave. He grabbed the rest of his ammo and refilled his magazine with 4 fresh rounds, placing a 5th in the chamber.
In an instant, the .270 roared and 5 more rounds were delivered with what should have been devastating effect. All the shots were perfectly placed, yet the huge boar was still on his feet! We were shocked and astounded. Fortunately, Dave had the presence of mind to reload immediately after his last round went home and he was able to cycle his action 4 more times, finally bringing the brute to ground.
Dave and I were shocked, exhausted and amazed! The boar had taken 13 well placed shots, at less than 50 yards, before he succumbed! It took us 15 minutes to decide that the beast was down for good and another 20 minutes to get up enough courage to approach him where he lay. He was positively enormous! Ground shrinkage was certainly not a factor!
He measured 8’4” from nose to butt. His girth was an incredible 75”! His tusks were equally huge, measuring 7” from his lower jaw. I estimated that he had at least another 6” of ivory embedded in the jaw. Using length + girth formulae we estimated his live weight at 1,200lbs!
Even to a seasoned pig hunter, this was the trophy of a lifetime!
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