Henrique's Hog Hunt

Drawing from the mighty hunter himself

My nephew Henrique came visiting from Brazil to spend a month during one of the nicest summers I can recall here in Traverse City, but his mind was in something much beyond summer and the blue waters of the West Arm of Grand Traverse Bay.

As the old saying goes, "you can take the boy out of the farm, but you can't take the farm out of the boy," and as soon as Henrique arrived the only things in his mind were hunting and shooting, and maybe a bit of fishing.

As you may or may not know, Brazil has some of the most draconian (and ineffective) guns laws in the world, so prior to his trip to Michigan the only things that Henrique had shot were an old and very loose air rifle and some rounds from a just as old and maybe as loose 410 shotgun.

So, as soon as he arrived at my home he was at the backyard shooting my Crosman 3357 .177" CO2 revolver. I tried to introduce him to other air guns, but he was just in love with the Python lookalike. Some days later I introduced him to Sporting Clays at Cedar Rod & Gun Club, and on the following Tuesday he discovered the world of Trap shooting, and after dropping my daughter and grandson at the Grand Rapids airport it was time to explore Cabela's.

But all these activities could not quench Henrique's thirst for hunting. The problem was that we were (or at the time of this writing are) right in the middle of summer, not the most convenient time of the year for the Sport of Kings, and I had to find a solution or either he would go crazy or worse yet, drive me crazy. The only practical and affordable solution was a hog hunt, and after searching the internet I settled for Super G Ranch, in Morley, MI, about two hours from my home.

Before going on with the story I would like to make a few comments: I really believe in fair chase hunting, but like many other hunters, and probably many of you, I've hunted preserve birds before and hunted in large high fenced properties in South Africa, and found both to have a place in the modern world of hunting. And one of most certain places is in introducing new hunters to the sport, especially when a young aspiring hunter is visiting from a far way place out of normal hunting season.

So we are back to Friday a week or so ago, waking up at 4:30 AM (one must really be a very nice uncle to do such a thing!), getting dressed (in my case, as Henrique slept with his clothes on) and getting on the road (my huntsmobile was already loaded with all the gear.) After a pancake breakfast at McDonalds we arrived at Super G Ranch just after 7:30 AM and Les, the owner, took us to a 540 acres high fenced hunting area about a mile from his home.

As we drove inside the inclosure and parked the huntsmobile under a nice shade tree, three or four pigs came to us as to be fed, and we just ignored them, even a very large hog that slowly moved away.

Henrique geared up, which consisted of a brand new Ka-Bar knife on his belt and my 1949 vintage Winchester Model 70 in 270 WCF. I carried a range finder and my Ruger SP101 357 Magnum, the later more for psychological comfort than real need.

The plan was to walk around the 540 acres until we saw a hog and then approach to a reasonable shooting distance, a classic stalking by any other name, and we started down a two track that pretty much bisected the enclosure. After three or four hundred yards I noticed some movement just off the two track, and we approached carefully and saw two whitetail does. We stared at each other for what seemed like a long time and they bolted into the undergrowth.

Shortly after we came upon a very large cow, most likely pregnant, and shooed her away, before crossing a creek. From there it was uphill, and the temperature started climbing with us.

After another half a mile or so, Henrique spotted some animals. It was a group of four or five very large pigs busily making a meal of whatever they had found. The rangefinder read 130 yards, and we decided to approach and check for hogs. As we closed the distance it became clear that there were only sows. We talked a bit and Henrique said he really wanted a hog.

We abandoned the sows and continued our journey into the "wilderness." After sometime heading west we came across a little marsh and had to cross another (or maybe the same) stream, and then came across some rams. And although the rams would make a nicer wall hanging trophy than a hog, I rather eat porc than mutton (but I will rather eat lamb than porc), so we let them be. They also didn't seem to mind us being around, another reason to ignore the rams.

We started heading south and had to cross yet another stream, and once again uphill we found several rather small pigs, and even with the higher temperatures decided that they were not what we were looking for. But after turning east into the woods to sort of close the loop, I noticed movement far ahead. It was a sounder of maybe ten or twelve animals, and they were foraging leisurely heading for the stream.

We moved at an angle to cut their path and when the sounder crossed the two track that we had originally walked on, two hogs, a black and a red, started fighting. It was nice to see their battle while the large sows moved around, apparently ignoring the would be suitors.

While the hogs filled the woods with their squeals and grunts we approach to forty yards, I told Henrique to kneel, and he selected the black hog, sending a 130 grain Remington Core-Lokt just behind the left shoulder. The sounder broke out towards the marsh, and the black hog arched in the opposite direction, not traveling more than ten yards before collapsing.

Henrique wanted to finish the hog with his new Ka-Bar, but I refused to let the accident-prone young men to risk an injury, and told him to put another bullet into the back of his head.

Les' daughter came retrieve the hog with a front-wheel loader and we walked back to the hunstmobile. We met Les at the barn to skin and quarter the 260 pound hog, and some good conversation, prior to starting back home.

Tomorrow I will smoke one of the hams in my Big Green Egg and bring it to Cedar Rod & Gun Club for Henrique's farewell party prior to his return to Brazil on Friday.

Lost Bird

Is there a Golden BB?

Today I braved the summer heat and shot a couple rounds of sporting clays at Cedar Rod & Gun Club at the heart of Leelanau Peninsula, and not far from my home and closer yet to Neverland.

In the first round Dave, Jim and I must have set the club record for fastest round ever, as we completed the 10-station 50-bird course in no more than 30 minutes. The reason for the frantic pace was that Jim had to attend a golf outing. In my mind, and as Dave reminded me Mark Twain said this first, golf is just a perfect way to spoil a good walk. But enough of that!

But during the slower second round, now in a five man squad (Kevin, Dan, Dave, Rick and the author, not necessarily in this order), I found between stations 8 and 9 a couple Midis that reminded all of us that unless you hit the target with the center of your pattern, luck can play all sorts of games with the shotgunner.

First I found a target that had a nice BB hole through the rind that either joins or separate, depending on your point of view, the center and the rim (or should it be the brim) of the clay pigeon. I think that one or two millimeters either towards the center or the edge would have resulted in a broken target, as the material is thicker. But as luck wanted, this was a lost bird for the shooter.

Looking around for just just a couple more seconds I found another lost bird, this time hit by three pellets, as you will be able to see in the photo below.

Apparently three are also not enough!

Clearly I have no idea which gun, gauge, load or chokes were used, of even if the two birds were shot by the same shooter or in the same day, but this weird findings serves to remember us about the uncertainties and art, rather than science, of shotgunning.

And while this is inconsequential for the weekend shotgunner, what could this have cost a competitor? But the really serious aspect of this is to the hunter, for there is little worse than wounding a bird and not putting the effort to retrieve it. And a bird hit by one or a few pellets from the edge of a pattern could be a lost bird, just like these unfortunate clay pigeons.

I don't know what the answer is, except to keep your eyes on the bird after you shoot and if you believe that you could have hit it, even by a single BB, gloden or otherwise, to go after it!

The Rebellion

The First National HDBF Shotgun Championship

It is no secret that shotgunning is a very important part of my life and that I get really annoyed with activities that interfere with my shooting, be it bird hunting or clay shooting, even if I miss more than my share of both kind of birds, the soft feathery ones or the hard clay pigeons.

It also should be no secret that I have a "corporate life" (whatever that may be), and that this means substantial amount of traveling and meetings, but for the most part I was able to fit in some amount of shotgunning after working hours. During the short but great year that I lived in Torino, Italy, I was able with the help of my friends Pino Facchini and Vito Benevelli to do a lot of shooting and enjoy many great meals throughout the Piemonte, Lombardia and the Venetto.

My current job takes me multiple times a year to southern Brazil, and in Caxias do Sul - RS I found the fantastic Clube Caxiense de Caça e Tiro where I made good friends, was treat to more great meals, and found an infrastructure that second to none in Brazil and fully comparable to the clubs I used to visit in Italy.

I was even able to get some bird hunting during the odd business trip or even when getting acquainted with new business partneres, but the "places" that would keep me away from shotgunning were conventions and business forums, that apparently are (or were) totally committed to golf, for whatever reason this may be.

I've never played more than three of four golf games in my life, but to say that this so called sport frustrates me is a gross understatement. The last game that I was forced to play (yes, I was actually forced to participate in a "team building" event that took place in a golf course) frustrated me so much that I threw one of the clubs away in a swamp.

But in the last couple weeks things started to change! I attended two conferences back to back, first in Phoenix, Arizona and then in La Jolla, California, and the rebellion started at these places or events.

As an alternative to golf, in Arizona about 30% (around 65 people) of the participants elected to shoot Sporting Clays at the fantastic Ben Avery Shooting Facility"s Clay Target Center. We shot the "Roadrunner Course" which had some very challenging target presentations, especially if you add the forty mile an hour winds that made the desert even drier. The range provided Beretta A-391 semi-automatic shotguns and Fiocchi one ounce 12 gauge shells. Truly a great combination, and I was told that I shot a 38 out of 50 possible and that I was high gun for the day.

The following week in California I passed on the "opportunity" to play golf at Torrey Pines from where the players have a gorgeous view of the Pacific Ocean and instead got in a bus with a box lunch and eight other brave souls for the hour drive to the P2K Range in El Cajon.

When we got there we had to answer a safety questionaire (actually not a bad thing), rent shotguns, which were a mix and no match of everything from Caesar Guerini (at double the rent of the other guns), through Remingtons, Berettas, CZ's and a single Browning BT-99.

First we shot Trap and there Tim G. (the brave guy wearing a pink shirt in the center of the photo) demonstrated the capabilities of the classic BT-99 breaking 23 birds at trap. The pool shark later disclosed that he grew up on the birth place of modern trap shooting, the State of Ohio, and that at some time in his high school years he was Junior State Champion. Just another example of never to bet on a game unless you know all the players.

Then we shot Five Stand, which was a much more challenging course than I would have given credit to. As not all the shooters in our team were proficient with shotguns we decided to shoot single only and take only one shot per bird. Even with a very humbling 13 I was high gun under the hot and dry California afternoon.

On the way back to Torrey Pines instead of boxed lunches we made sure that we have enough cold beer to quench our thirst and divert our attention from the terrible traffic.

This is it. The rebellion has started. We may be few, but we know that we will prevail as palns are already in place for next year's events. Until there, keep on shooting!

Clay Ducks & Blackberries

Last Saturday (13^th August) I attend a Sporting Clays shoot at the Lakes Area Conservation Club at Osterhout Road in Portage, MI. The event was a fund raiser for Ducks Unlimited (www.ducks.org), one of the world’s great examples of sportmen stewardship in wildlife and habitat conservation.

The morning started with a storm rolling north of of our home, a lot of thunder and some winds. My wife questioned if I was “really” going out in that weather, and my response was that it was perfect duck hunting weather. But the morning storm blew away and we had a nice, if somewhat warm, morning.

The event was very well organized and most teams were formed in advance, so showing up as a lest minute entrant I was very happy to find a spot at #2 Squad and shoot with my friends Eric Weeldreyer and Dick Kik.

Eric is one of the owners of On Target in Kalamazoo, MI (www.ontargetgunstore.com) and besides encyclopedical knowledge of firearms he is a great shooter and sportsman. Dick is one of On Target’s foremost sidekicks, another passionate shotgunner, side-by-side enthusiast and reloading thinkerer.

I have shot the Sporting Clays course at “Lakes Area” many times, so there were not many surprises with the “Clay Ducks” (since this was a Duck’s Unlimited event, I am not willing to call then “pigeons” this time), but towards the back on the woods on stations 11 and 12, there was a very pleasant and tasty surprise.

Just as we walked to station 11 and were waiting our turn to shoot, Eric asked me if I liked blackberries. I use so much a blackberry for work that it took me several seconds to realize that Eric was not talking about electronic devices or any boring work related matter, but that berry season is at the pick in Michigan, and we were surrounded by blackberry bushes. Eric began picking the ripe berries, bright black and sweet, and treating me by the handful.

In the book “As Valkyrias” Paulo Coelho discuss how most people live in a personal microcosmos, not more than than a couple meters in diameter, and that in order for a someone to live fully we must look at the horizon, shatter the boundaries of our self construct microcosmos and, in my case, see the blackberries just a couple paces away. Eric’s offering was a wakening call.

It is impressive how a simple kind gesture, like Eric’s blackberry offering, can make a day memorable. Clay ducks are not a delicacy, but the blackberries really complemented them in a great way. Even my shooting improved in those stations.