Learning the Skills of a Hunter

Hey Grandpa, guess what, Dad is taking us rabbit shooting in the weekend. The smallest one asked, "Did your Dad take you shooting, Grandpa?..."

"Crips mate, that was 50 years ago!! No I was lucky, I was on a farm and just went on my own."

 

It was actually too cold to sleep too and as daylight appeared we found the dogs had eaten our fish and the tide had gone way out, so things had been still going on during the night. We eventually got installed into the old farm house across the estuary and armed with instructions from the farmer, set off on this pig hunting caper with our well-fed dogs.

It was rough going in thick scrub but we could see the sign of pigs so were very keen to see pigs making this sign. By mid afternoon we were suffering from lack of sleep and fish for breakfast when the dogs tripped over a pig and the chase was on and it carried on for quite some time, in fact a lo-o-on-g time. When we and the dogs all caught up again we were all stuffed and sat down for a breather. The dogs were stretched out at the bottom of an 8ft bank with Russ and I on top and no pit, so it was all a very dismal sight!

We were about to slink off home when the disappearing pig shot out from under us, over the dogs and about to seek more friendly company. This fresh pig sign is what I had dreamed of so I leapt off the bank and landed on top of the pig changing its mind of escape. The next plan was to make this pig into bacon but in the chase I had lost the sheath knife. It was just as well Russ still had his as I wasn't too keen on holding it till it starved to death or taking it live to the sea to drown it.

By that evening we had got it back to the homestead, had got it into the bathroom, and scalded most of the bristles off and had it hanging ready for the trip out. We were a very tired but happy pair as we went to bed with a blanket on the floor for the night. Next morning it was time to head home to do the evening milking at 4.00p.m. It was time to say our thank-yous etc. to the farm owner, row across the estuary and away. It was at this time one of our dogs felt he should show his appreciation also, so standing behind the farmer, he cocked his leg and peed down his short gumboot, thus ending our first day of learning about pig hunting!

Signed,
Biff Slade.

Copyright © Biff Slade
Being the oldest boy I tended to be at the source of all the fights and upheavals after school, until I found that in the back of a cupboard there was an old single shot 22 Savage rifle. This discovery was the start of new ventures for me, and a big relief to my mother and brothers, as my new-found occupation spelled peace in the home. I would buy my ammo. after school at 4/6d. and wander the hills all around the district hunting rabbits and hares. I re-made a stock from an old hardwood swingle tree (a crossbar in a horse's harness) as the original one was badly repaired after an Uncle tried to knock the brains out of a wounded rabbit and wrecked the thing. This rifle is still in my collection and served me well in those young years.

It wasn't long after leaving school I saved seventeen pounds and bought a Browning pump-action 22 and teamed up with a mate, Russ, and started spotlighting opossums till all hours of the night. The opossum shad a big advantage on us in that they could be up all night and sleep during the day but we had to start work milking cows at 5.00am in the morning, but we really annoyed them as long as the spotlight was still going. Those smelly, acid-dripping batteries, that rotted your pants off by the end of the next day, left plenty of room for improvement!

The big change came when Russ met up with an old chap who was still pig hunting and lent us some dogs for a week-end. We set off to a friend's farm 3 hours drive away in the A40 Austin, armed with dogs, 22's and a fishing met and got to the estuary at 11 o'clock at night. The plan was to drag the net on the high tide and cross the estuary on low tide in the old dinghy in the morning. We got the net all set up and I waded into the water in the dark dragging it in a big circle with Russ holding the beach end. We did this a few times and pulled in some good Trevally, and Snapper but reckoned there might be some bigger fish out further.

This next plan was to put another length of rope on the beach end and i would go way out. This worked well with me out as far as I could go and still breathe! It was quite lonely way out there in the dark dead of night, when suddenly, a few feet away the net went berserk and nearly ripped my arms off! I could see the water being beaten to a foam but reckoned the best plan was to hang on. The excitement didn't last long and Russ soon had the remains of the net dragged up on the beach with my hands locked firmly onto the pole still. We decided it was too cold for any more fishing and didn't really need big fish so crawled under some scrub for a sleep.

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