Brian in Montana
Well-known member
I'd probably even settle for 40.
We were traveling last week, visited family in Texas, and up to then the weather has been nasty every time I tried to get out for a little bear hunting. We got home on Sunday, and I had to take my daughter to camp on Monday, then I packed up some camping and hunting gear and hiked into a good glassing spot in the Highlands thinking, come what may, I have until Wednesday night (6/15) to make the most of it. Tuesday morning, the weather was notably awful, again. It was cold and the wind was screaming. At about noon, things oddly settled down a little. I was perched on a rock overlooking a SW facing park and as the wind died down a group of 5 bulls came into the park and starting grazing. A few minutes later, this nice cinnamon boar followed them. He gave me a 300yd shot and I put a 165gn Hornady Interbond behind his shoulder.
He spun around, bit at the spot where the bullet hit him, ran about 40yds and piled up.
Then I spent the next few hours skinning, quartering and packing it all back over the ridge where my camp was set up. By that time, the wind was howling again, so I had some Mountain House for dinner and crawled into bed. All night long, the wind was an army of banshees and everytime I was drifting into a REM cycle a gust would hit the tent making the fabric flap violently and wake up.
So then when morning finally arrived, I crawled out feeling completely exhausted. Oh well, had some breakfast and took 2 trips to get the meat and hide back down to the trailhead.
I left my camping gear, have to go back in and get it, probably on Saturday. I came back through Butte, where I checked it in at the FWP office, went home and put the meat on ice, then drove to the taxidermist I've used in Anaconda (Don Capp, who I highly recommend). Finally got home and collapsed. I could barely get out of bed this morning. Seems I used to do this kind of thing a lot back my 30ys, between hockey games and whatever else. Don't remember it being quit this hard on the bod.
But anyway, rough as it was, this was really one of those hunts where things came together with a sense of destiny involved. The way the wind died down at the right time and being in the right place at the right time. Good memory I wouldn't trade for. Just looking forward to my kids being old enough to help with the packing.
We were traveling last week, visited family in Texas, and up to then the weather has been nasty every time I tried to get out for a little bear hunting. We got home on Sunday, and I had to take my daughter to camp on Monday, then I packed up some camping and hunting gear and hiked into a good glassing spot in the Highlands thinking, come what may, I have until Wednesday night (6/15) to make the most of it. Tuesday morning, the weather was notably awful, again. It was cold and the wind was screaming. At about noon, things oddly settled down a little. I was perched on a rock overlooking a SW facing park and as the wind died down a group of 5 bulls came into the park and starting grazing. A few minutes later, this nice cinnamon boar followed them. He gave me a 300yd shot and I put a 165gn Hornady Interbond behind his shoulder.
He spun around, bit at the spot where the bullet hit him, ran about 40yds and piled up.
Then I spent the next few hours skinning, quartering and packing it all back over the ridge where my camp was set up. By that time, the wind was howling again, so I had some Mountain House for dinner and crawled into bed. All night long, the wind was an army of banshees and everytime I was drifting into a REM cycle a gust would hit the tent making the fabric flap violently and wake up.
So then when morning finally arrived, I crawled out feeling completely exhausted. Oh well, had some breakfast and took 2 trips to get the meat and hide back down to the trailhead.
I left my camping gear, have to go back in and get it, probably on Saturday. I came back through Butte, where I checked it in at the FWP office, went home and put the meat on ice, then drove to the taxidermist I've used in Anaconda (Don Capp, who I highly recommend). Finally got home and collapsed. I could barely get out of bed this morning. Seems I used to do this kind of thing a lot back my 30ys, between hockey games and whatever else. Don't remember it being quit this hard on the bod.
But anyway, rough as it was, this was really one of those hunts where things came together with a sense of destiny involved. The way the wind died down at the right time and being in the right place at the right time. Good memory I wouldn't trade for. Just looking forward to my kids being old enough to help with the packing.
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