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My initiation into the bowhunting
It
may seem a bit strange to open a story with a question but I will
anyway. Do you remember when you first felt like you were a bowhunter?
When I say a bowhunter I’m not talking about when you bought your
first bow, or even learned to shoot that bow proficient enough to go
hunting. The acceptance I’m talking about doesn’t even come from
harvesting your first animal, whatever it may be. What I’m talking
about can’t be bought, it doesn’t come from practice and it isn’t
judged by your successes. If you haven’t figured it out yet you may
not yet be a member of our great fraternity. What you do when nobody is
watching, when in all honesty you could get away with something and
never be held accountable by any one is what I’m talking about.
Holding yourself accountable for your own actions. Doing the right thing
because it is the right thing to do. Not wanting to risk getting too
high up on my soapbox (believe me you don’t want to get me started)
let me tell you of my initiation into the fraternity. I had done my
scouting over the last few months very well for my Arizona javelina
hunt. You see I had not only located the area where I could find
javelina but I had found a den containing four pigs. Not a large band by
any means but each pig was a pretty good one, at least by what I knew;
you see this was my first pig hunt. When I first found the den and
excitedly told my wife about my discovery all she had to say was "
what’s are you going to do if you shoot one and he runs right back
into the den." I had to laugh, what did this woman know about
hunting javelinas? I did explain to her that the den was only a place to
locate them not to ambush them, for that very reason. Once the den was
located I stayed away for a week or two. Then about three weeks before
the beginning of the season I checked on them two maybe three times a
week. I took great care not to scare them away from they’re happy
home. Finally January 1st was here, opening day for javelina.
I was out in the desert long before daylight that day; you see I also
had my muledeer tag to fill. I knew those lazy ole pigs wouldn’t be up
much before 8:30 or 9:00 so I sat over some water waiting for my big
buck to come in. He never came though and it is probably is a good thing
because all I could think about was going over and finding my pigs that
I had been baby-sitting for the last two months. Finally I could wait no
longer; I was about to put my plan into action. Now I thought I’d
worked out a pretty good strategy, wait for the pigs to leave the den
and begin feeding follow them out a ways and then sneak in for a close
shot. Sounded simple and effective. There were two things I’d
forgotten to factor into my plan, the weather was cold this day and it
was very windy. Javelinas like neither. When I arrived at the den which
was only a ½ mile walk from the water hole I’d been sitting at it was
still a little early for the pigs to come out and play. So I sat
patiently in a small wash that ran parallel to the mountain where the
den was. For two hours I sat, every once in awhile I’d go listen to
the pigs in the den just to make sure they hadn’t slipped out past me.
Finally I could wait no longer, I pulled out my predator call and let
loose with some bloodcurdling screams. Nothing stirred. I let another 15
minutes go by then I hit it again. This time a big boar came running out
of the den, he was looking for something and that something was me. He
started down the wash then jumped out of it away from the mountain into
thick cover of mesquite trees and creosote bushes. Then it dawned on me
he was trying to wind me. I had lost sight of the boar by now but
anticipated his route. I could hear him before I could see him. So many
things were running through my mind at that moment and by the sounds
coming my way I wouldn’t have long to sort them out. My first thought
was the wind; javelinas have poor eyesight but a very good since of
smell, good the wind was brisk and in my favor. My setup will I be able
to get a shot from here. Before I could answer this one he was there 25
yards from me but still in thick cover. Closing the gap between us very
slowly he would stop every few steps and test the air. At 15 yards he
stopped and presented me with a broadside shot, nothing obstructed my
shot so almost without thinking I pulled my Jennings Buckmaster to full
draw put my 20 yard pin on his chest and let fly. It was almost surreal
the way I watched the fletching disappear into his side; it was as
though the arrow was in slow motion. I snapped back to reality in a
heartbeat when the pig let out an alarm sound as he wheeled and ran off
through the bushes. I knew not to push him to soon but before I could
make my move it seemed as though fighting mad javelina surrounded me. I
must tell you it had me a little on edge. These pigs may not be as
fierce as your Russians or your big feral hogs but they have been known
to hurt a hunter you if he gets in their way. To say I was nervous is
putting it mildly. It seemed like they were milling around for thirty
minutes but I know they were gone in five. As I watched them leave I
counted one two three, one was still around, mine. I waited a while
longer then started looking for my first big game animal with my bow.
Suddenly it dawned on me, he couldn’t have ran back into his den.
Every thing happened so fast and with the wind and the cold the pigs
wouldn’t leave their den so I took my shot without thinking of the
outcome. I tried every way I could to convince myself that my wife’s
prophecy hadn’t come true. Scouring the countryside for an hour
without a trace of the boar I came to the conclusion I was going to have
to look at the den. There it was heading right to the opening, a blood
trail you couldn’t miss if you tried. At the sight of the blood trail
I knew I had located my pig so I only had one question going through my
mind, am I going to tell my wife about this? The only thing to do at
this point was to roll up my shirtsleeves and get to work. I had to tie
my flashlight onto a stick and then look into the den to see my pig but
there he was all the way in the back. This meant only one thing I had to
go in after him. If I thought I was nervous when the pigs were running
around me the first time I certainly didn’t want them coming back and
catching me in their home. I had to work fast. Off to my truck to get a
shovel and old blanket to lie on as I was crawling in the hole. After
digging out the opening to the den where I could crawl inside in I went.
If you’ve ever hunted javelina I don’t have to tell you about their
smell and if you haven’t I don’t want to discourage you so lets say
it was a very unpleasant aroma inside. But once I started inside all I
could think about was this one’s buddies coming back. Once I was in
about 15 feet there he was so I grabbed anything I could and pulled him
out. Once I had him out I could finally appreciate my first big game
with a bow. What a feeling! At that moment I truly did feel as though I
was a bowhunter. Not because of the kill, but what I had to go through
to recover my animal, and the respect I had for him. I’ve told this
story to a few other people then I quit telling it. I quit telling it
because I was amazed at the people who call themselves bowhunters who
told me they’d have just left him and saved my tag for another one.
This was something I just couldn’t do, you see, I’m a bowhunter.
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