I'm slipping the third and final round into my little cut down .357, the first two rounds had been wasted it seemed, I'm thinking back to earlier this morning, while crawling around the floor looking for the fourth bullet, I'd thought, dam it three rounds should be plenty. When have a ever used more than three rounds during a hunt. It had been raining for days, not heavy, just enough to keep the bush dripping wet, I'd been talking to my old mate Pork-Chop a couple of days before, "did you go for a hunt this morning Chop" I said. "I got up and 'shook the bush', to wet for me" he said. This-morning wasn't much drier, at-least the rain had stopped, I didn't shake the bush. Quick breakfast and a few stretches, soon the four bitches Lu, Kai, Jet & Reg were collared up and on the bike, poor old bike was riding a bit low this morning, someone will be on a diet shortly, we were off to a spot I hadn't checked out for a while. No...

Summer is long gone and the fires been going for a few weeks now. Every winter it gets harder to drag my sad ass out of the nice warm bed to hunt the Pigs, although the beds not as warm as it was, the girlfriend took off a while ago “curiosity killed the cat” it seems, if you look hard enough you can find fault in anything, but then I’d suggest one of the bonuses of getting old is you short sight begins to fade, everything close up becomes a little blurry and looks great. Years ago my mother said, "if you keep doing that you'll go blind" and I said "mum can I just keep doing it till I need glasses" One draw back of the eye sight going is looking down open sights, but then it never worried Daniel Boone did it, (or me because I knocked my sights off some time ago). Most of you young whipper snappers wouldn’t have heard of Daniel Boone, born 1734 died 1820, about as old as I felt this morning. Thinking back to last winter there had been a boar that had given me...

Some weeks ago I’d mentioned pig hunting to my new neighbors, their sons face just lit up, Taylor looked about 10, but I was later to find out he was only 7, I said “maybe we could go for a hunt some time” Taylor and captain Steve his father were keen as, pick you up at 5.30am from your Jetty then, we had about an hours steaming to our hunting spot today and soon we were ashore climbing a steep face, if I’d known Taylor was only 7 at the time I might have turned around early, but ignorance is bliss, (my theme song) so on we climbed, a lot of Nikau palms in this area which were in fruit, pigs love these berries, on the down side also a lot of supple-jack and Kiekie, which was hard work pushing though, especially for what turn out to be a 7 year old, I’d told the boys to tell me if they heard a dog bark (me being a little deaf) and they were soon tapping me on the shoulder, looking at the tracker 400m away the dogs had all stopped, a pig, I tucked a spare tracking coll...

There had been some unsubstantiated rumors floating around I’d been spending more time chasing skirt over winter than the pigs, I probably should clarify that statement. For me the pig comes first, you will really see me chasing pigs wearing skirts, in-fact they would be sows wouldn’t they and I try and let them go, when I can, the sows that is. Now if you’re confused so am I usually, but I can say for sure  that when life gets confusing and you need to clear your head there’s nothing better than dragging your sad ass out of bed before daybreak and letting the dogs off for some pig hunting. It had been a long winter for me, with two new pups coming on, bloody deer chasing, goat chewing, possum killing bitches, these fantail following freaks have been impossible, but slowly, the girls have been dealing with their fetishists, (with some light help from the shock collar) while I picked up the pieces along the way! Along with my sorry ass I might add. Moles!   ...