There were plenty of times when we went hunting - 'to control the animals'. Mick Hill and I had our dogs and we would go together. Colin and I would also go together and we had interesting challenges as well.
There are those who think killing animals for sport is gross and a bad thing, but for young men to go out and challenge themselves to pound the hills, fight the vegetation and pit their cunning against wild animals who's senses are more intune than their own is surely a good thing. We had a great amount of fun. Now I'm personally not so interested - I guess you do move on.
Mick and I challenged ourselves to go out without a rifle, which means we had to dispatch the pig with a knife - I used a short Green River knife to cut their throat - jugular vein.
Well the dogs caught the pig alright and Mick took hold of its hind legs to roll it on its back. To make it easy for me to kill it. But every time I went to use my knife, the pig kept snapping at me. I looked at Mick and he was grinning from ear to ear. He was turning the pig so it was always attacking me!
Another time, after Hughie Muldrew, the meat buyer had asked me not to cut the pigs throat too much because in Germany they sit them frozen in the window to look 'alive'. As a display, I guess. So this day the dogs held a big boar pinned, by its ears [a dog on each]. I was going to use my knife by sticking into the pig's heart. This did not kill, or even slow down the pig! I guessed the knife was too short, so I pushed it in - handle and all! The pig was by no means dead, and the dogs let go. I straddled the big bugger and held on to his ears! He bucked, but I stayed put! Mick had not turned up - he was a slower runner than me! I yelled for him to hurry and he came with his rifle. But he sat down on a rock and watched as I was bucked among the gorse! Grinning widely, he finally shot the animal and I retrieved my knife.
Colin always complained to me that dogs killed the piglets and therefore ruined the hunting. He also had the theory that he and his rifle could bag more pigs than I could with my dogs. So we went out together to test it.
We were going to test two hour each with us walking with my dogs and then the pair of us walking without the dogs. Well we didn't get on to any pigs.
As we drove around Queen's Road, a large boar ran down the road in front of us. 'Right' I said as I stopped the truck, 'here's your chance - shoot it!'
Buy the time he was out of the truck, the pig had disappeared into a stand of Macrocarpas. I let the dogs loose and they soon had the pig.
Smugly I said nothing, but the next day I had my gloat when I told the story [with the necessary embellishment] to our co-workers.
Colin was a really good shot and cool with it.
We had seen a lot of deer sign on the planting area that bounded on to Glencoe Run. So we went up there on those frosty nights with a hand light - me with the light and Colin with his rifle. We regularly bagged a deer and always left the guts where the workers would find it - particularly Doug Turner who was vocal in his envy [but never went out himself]. I was well aware that he checked my boots for blood splats each morning.
One night we spotted a small mob of pigs, and as I held them in the light - pigs don't dazzle easily - I was aware Colin was taking his time taking aim.
'Shoot the bloody thing!' I muttered.
Finally he fired and two pigs dropped! He was purposely lining them up so he increased the possibility of hitting two with one bullet.
Then another night he carefully took aim at the glowing eye of a deer. Bang, the eye did not go out. I held the light steady. Bang again - the eye still did not go out! I told him to take another angle and the eye went out.
His first two shots had hit the deer just in the joint of the jawbone no more than a centimeter apart. This can happen - a shot animal can just stand there; shock I suppose. The other shot had been right on the eye. Colin was a very good shot!
There are those who think killing animals for sport is gross and a bad thing, but for young men to go out and challenge themselves to pound the hills, fight the vegetation and pit their cunning against wild animals who's senses are more intune than their own is surely a good thing. We had a great amount of fun. Now I'm personally not so interested - I guess you do move on.
Mick and I challenged ourselves to go out without a rifle, which means we had to dispatch the pig with a knife - I used a short Green River knife to cut their throat - jugular vein.
Well the dogs caught the pig alright and Mick took hold of its hind legs to roll it on its back. To make it easy for me to kill it. But every time I went to use my knife, the pig kept snapping at me. I looked at Mick and he was grinning from ear to ear. He was turning the pig so it was always attacking me!
Another time, after Hughie Muldrew, the meat buyer had asked me not to cut the pigs throat too much because in Germany they sit them frozen in the window to look 'alive'. As a display, I guess. So this day the dogs held a big boar pinned, by its ears [a dog on each]. I was going to use my knife by sticking into the pig's heart. This did not kill, or even slow down the pig! I guessed the knife was too short, so I pushed it in - handle and all! The pig was by no means dead, and the dogs let go. I straddled the big bugger and held on to his ears! He bucked, but I stayed put! Mick had not turned up - he was a slower runner than me! I yelled for him to hurry and he came with his rifle. But he sat down on a rock and watched as I was bucked among the gorse! Grinning widely, he finally shot the animal and I retrieved my knife.
Colin always complained to me that dogs killed the piglets and therefore ruined the hunting. He also had the theory that he and his rifle could bag more pigs than I could with my dogs. So we went out together to test it.
We were going to test two hour each with us walking with my dogs and then the pair of us walking without the dogs. Well we didn't get on to any pigs.
As we drove around Queen's Road, a large boar ran down the road in front of us. 'Right' I said as I stopped the truck, 'here's your chance - shoot it!'
Buy the time he was out of the truck, the pig had disappeared into a stand of Macrocarpas. I let the dogs loose and they soon had the pig.
Smugly I said nothing, but the next day I had my gloat when I told the story [with the necessary embellishment] to our co-workers.
Colin was a really good shot and cool with it.
We had seen a lot of deer sign on the planting area that bounded on to Glencoe Run. So we went up there on those frosty nights with a hand light - me with the light and Colin with his rifle. We regularly bagged a deer and always left the guts where the workers would find it - particularly Doug Turner who was vocal in his envy [but never went out himself]. I was well aware that he checked my boots for blood splats each morning.
One night we spotted a small mob of pigs, and as I held them in the light - pigs don't dazzle easily - I was aware Colin was taking his time taking aim.
'Shoot the bloody thing!' I muttered.
Finally he fired and two pigs dropped! He was purposely lining them up so he increased the possibility of hitting two with one bullet.
Then another night he carefully took aim at the glowing eye of a deer. Bang, the eye did not go out. I held the light steady. Bang again - the eye still did not go out! I told him to take another angle and the eye went out.
His first two shots had hit the deer just in the joint of the jawbone no more than a centimeter apart. This can happen - a shot animal can just stand there; shock I suppose. The other shot had been right on the eye. Colin was a very good shot!
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