by Jim Beutecale

As we rolled onto the ranch nestled in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada’s the sun’s light was beginning to turn black into grey. We could just make out the cold crooked fingers of the oaks, scratching at the sky. Our mood was light and expectant as this ranch has produced many hogs over the past few years. My brother-in-law, Vic Smith, had been the lucky bidder on an access pig hunt donated to the Napa Valley Chapter of Safari Club International. It just so happened that the donors were none other than two of my best friends, Allen and Anthony Maxwell. I was invited to come along and tote my own rifle. May as well make a day of it and kill two hogs.

Vic and I sat in the back of the truck and listened while Allen and Anthony talked about where we should go first. The decision was made in short order and Allen turned the truck up a dirt track leading to a likely spot. As we got out of the truck and prepared for the short hike I couldn’t help but look around and revel at the rolling hills surrounding us, covered in a blanket of fresh green grass that had recently pushed its way through last year’s thatch…and while I was reveling, everyone else was walking. I looked up to see that I was well behind as they had already rounded the hillside and were out of sight. Not to worry, I would catch up soon enough.

In the meantime, Allen, Anthony and Vic had already spotted a group of hogs and had taken off at a run to get into position. As I rounded the bend I realized what had happened and had to run to catch up. Vic was already in a shooting position, sitting with his rifle across a log while Anthony and Allen were peering through their binoculars. There were about five or six pigs milling about down at the bottom of the ravine before us. Before I could get into a position to shoot, I heard some whispers then the crack of Vic’s .270. The pigs scattered down in the ravine made a hasty retreat, heading directly away from us and out of sight.

Anthony was still looking through his binoculars at another hog that was also quickly disappearing over the next hill. It was a big boar, off on his own doing what big boars do. Vic had misheard Anthony, thinking he had told him to shoot when in fact he had said don’t shoot. There was no denying it. It was amateur hour for the two guys carrying the rifles. We made our way down to where the pigs had been when Vic shot, but we all knew we would not find any blood. It was a clean miss. Our conversation quickly turned to the large boar that had made his way over the hill and whether or not he was worth pursuing. It was determined that going after him on foot was not realistic and that we would be better served looking elsewhere. Back to the truck we went and on to another area of the ranch.

Our next stop yielded no results, nor did the following location. By now the cold morning had transformed itself into a beautiful day with a bright blue sky and a few wispy clouds making their way east. We hiked up a ridge to where we could glass a steep draw and the opposite hillside. It was peaceful sitting in the sun, peering through our binoculars, but our morning was slipping away from us and we had failed to turn up any more pigs. There was plenty of sign of where they had been. Spots on hillsides looked like they had been recently tilled and the ground under many oak trees had been turned to mud by hogs looking for acorns. However, the culprits of this activity had now made themselves scarce. Realization was dawning on us that our slam dunk, easy as you please pig hunt was not going to be so easy. We decided to turn our attention to hogs of another kind.

We made our way back to the truck and drove down to one of the many ponds that are on the property. Fishing tackle was quickly distributed and it was not long before one of us had a nice bass on the line. The next hour was spent making our way around the pond, catching and releasing bass. Hunting in California can certainly provide many other benefits due to the diversity of the wildlife found within its borders and we certainly know how to take advantage of this.

With our pond about fished out we decided to take the long way back and out of the ranch. Our morning was pretty much finished and we all knew that our chances of catching a hog out in the open were now pretty slim. Successful hunting is not solely based upon punching a tag. There was no dejection within the ranks of our group and it had been a wonderful morning.

As I sat in the backseat of the pickup, looking out the side window reflecting on the morning’s hunt I was astonished to see a large angry boar come bursting out of a shallow gully and begin to charge straight at the truck. I yelled “There’s a pig right there!” and Allen hit the brakes, bringing the truck quickly to a halt. Somewhere between the time I first spotted the boar and of me extracting myself from the confines of the back seat, the mud covered tusker decided that perhaps charging a truck full of armed hunters was not in his best interest. He quickly veered off and was running full tilt, quartering away from us. Victor was quicker than I, coming around the back of the vehicle and kneeling down to take a shot. Once again I heard the crack of the .270 but this time there was the unmistakable “WHOP” of bullet striking flesh. The big boar was rocked hard with the shot, but managed to stay on his feet and was covering ground fast. I threw my own rifle to my shoulder, mentally calculated the necessary lead and swung ahead of the boar. I squeezed the trigger and never even felt the recoil punch me in the shoulder. The 140 grain Nosler Ballistic Tip from the .280 Ackley caught the boar right on the shoulder bringing him to a skidding, twitching halt. It was a spectacular, adrenaline packed finale complete with backslapping and high fives.

A post mortem later confirmed that the first shot, fired by Vic, was a little far back, but had made its way up and into the lungs. My shot, while right on the shoulder, actually missed the lungs and instead had angled forward and destroyed the vertebrae in the neck, stopping him immediately.

A better day is hard to imagine than one spent with family and friends, pursuing game outdoors and taking in the beauty of this land that we have so little time to share. Get out and hunt!