Blr243 wrote:Dead right shayne Shooting a pig is just shooting a pig , But it’s all the amazing , unusual, Getting bogged accidents and a bit of danger, climbing trees to get away from pigs anything different is what I remember the most , submerged with a bow and being surrounded by freshwater crocs ..nearly dying of thirst in summer. Stepping on a snake. Getting hit by electric fences.....getting body parts caught on barbed wire fences. Pigs running up into the footwell of my quadbike to bite my legs. Catching a dingo pup with my hands , Shooting a scrub bull with my bow. Listening to dingoes howl ...Finding a sow in her grass nest and dragging her out By her feet. with my hands......Climbing mountains so steep in New Zealand that next day you can barely walk. Crashing a motorbike into the rocks in a New Zealand river bed so many times, at night tired , that eventually you no longer feel the pain of the crash ...rescuing my hunting dog from certain death because he’s too dumb to care for his own life.... .arguing with someone about who should get the dog off the pig when they are in a dam at night in the middle of winter. in the paddocks flying over the handlebars of my motorbike a couple of times is better now only as memories because my body is now not up for it , and Other stuff I dare not print. These are things that you can’t do in the city.
A random memory of mine - We had a Suzuki Stockman as our pig chaser, and it lived on the property we hunted on. Dad was very wary of any wet blacksoil, and would stop for anything. "Not sure we should go through that" he would always say. As a dirt bike rider, I had no fear of the mud, and enough experience with it to know when to proceed or not. "We'll be right dad" I would often say. We had never been bogged.
We were out on the property after a good season, so lots of grass about. I was driving, and dad was standing up in the back, where we had a great view from. "Not sure bout this next bit" says dad, but it looked ok to me so I kept going. We were soon stopped, bogged to the axles at both ends. On the boundary fence too.
So I climb up into the back for a better view - 150m of straight water!!!!!!! So I said to dad "How can you look at that and say you are not sure!!! You can't see anything but water".
So we had to walk back to the homestead, a long way, and ask for help. Being on the boundary fence, we did not want to leave our rifles there, so we grabbed them, walked around the water, and headed off for a long walk. Not far along, I stopped to take a leak, so leaned my rifle against the fence, and as you do, had a good look around. Spotted two pigs digging up the wet soil not far off, so we stalked into them and got both of them.
So we got back without our Suzi, but at least we weren't pigless.