Uhunt The Honey Pot

Uhunt Mag Information

  • Posted By : BRISTLE UP
  • Posted On : Jun 15, 2019
  • Views : 138
  • Likes : 1
  • Category : PIG DOGGING » STORIES
  • Description : "Greg and I hung on for dear life as Mick sent my ute across the flat with a sound coming out of the back like a jet engine."

Overview

  • By Jake Ryan

    It was lunchtime on Friday afternoon, and the boys and I had been looking forward to this weekend for weeks. Myself (Jake) and my two good mates Greg and Mick had organized to get away in good time, so we could get as much hunting in as possible on Friday night. We had loaded up my trusty V8 Landcruiser with 4 dogs, plenty of food, swags and a big esky full of refreshments. Mick and I picked up Greg and his dog and we set sail for the Dawson River in Central QLD. We had a 4.5 hour trip from the Sunshine Coast to Cracow. The property we were going to is a 30,000-acre cattle property. This was our second trip to the property that Mick once worked on as a ringer, you know, back in the days. Mick had been talking to the owner of the property who had reported seeing some of the biggest pigs they had ever seen. This was because they were in a drought and the only water for them to drink was in the river. These Big boars normally live high up in the rugged mountain ranges, and this is why they live so long and get so big. We came into the mobile phone range about 15 mins out of Cracow and worked out by the time we got to Cracow we wouldn't be early enough to cook a meal. 


    So we did what you do in the bush, we googled Cracow pub,  rang them and ordered our meals that were ready when we arrived. This is what all serious pig hunters do so you have optimum hunting time!!! The Cracow pub is amazing, and a must visit so put it on your list. It is full of memorabilia and stories on the walls of all the past people that have been there.  It is also owned and run by the famous Fred Brophy.  It took us another 30 mins to arrive at our campsite in the middle of the 30,000-acre block, only 50 meters from the river. We set the camp up and plated the dogs. Mick knows the property like the back of his hand and suggested we should head out on the irrigated cultivation which was only 500 meters from the camp, so we did. We had only been spotlighting for 10 minutes with Mick driving and Greg and I on the back when we spotted two massive pigs in the paddock.



    We were perfectly positioned between them and the mountain that they must live in when like a bullet, they went from a standing start to off like a shot heading behind us for the mountain. Mick turned the ute around and drove as far as we could up the fence. We released the dogs, and off into the darkness, we all went. The pigs split with the dogs all following the biggest black boar that decided to go around the base of the mountain in thick bush. The dogs were having a lot of trouble pulling the boar up and Greg, and I were about 300 meters from the dogs according to the tracking collars, Mick wasn't far behind us. It took the dogs, all 5 of them, 2 kilometers to pull this boar up which we could not understand until we got there and saw how big and fit this boar was. We estimate he had to be well over 115 kilograms and the dogs had a real battle to contain him. Greg and I were out of breath and Mick was still coming, so we got our breath back and then, after some very scary moments, we were able to stick him.

    The dogs did a great job to be able to hold this pig.  After the compulsory photos and some big high fives, Mick pointed us in the direction of the camp, and he headed back for the ute. Still, to this day, Greg and I say that Mick pointed us in the wrong direction as we were only 500 meters from the camp and it took us 3 kilometers to get there. Back at camp around the fire, we celebrated our first big Dawson River Mountain Boar. We could all not believe we got a boar like this to let alone in the first 30 minutes of us being there.



    We called it a night as the dogs were buggered. So we sat around the fire and worked out a plan for the next day. Mick suggested trying something we have never done before, and that was to hunt out of a small boat which was at the camp. The plan was to travel up the river with the dogs and when the dogs either smelt pigs or we saw good signs we would pull over and Greg and I would get out and walk with the dogs while the "Wise Man" (Mick) would bring the boat along. At the first good sign of pigs, we followed our plan. We only went 100 meters and the dogs got a small boar. We all looked at each other and thought, how easy is this?! We did the same thing all day, with a stop for refreshments in between of course. All up we shot a couple and caught about 8 pigs but nothing like the big boar from last night. This was a fantastic way to hunt. After we got back to the camp we decided to give the dogs rest, so we left them at camp and headed to do some fishing about 5 kilometers away. You should never do this as on our way, with no dogs, we came across a mob of pigs. Mick jumped out and had a shot, we then followed them and dropped Greg where Mick had shot the first one. Mick and I got closer to the mob on the run and Mick got another. We then drove back to Greg to find him with two pigs, that Mick had actually headshot! Two pigs with the one bullet!! We didn’t have much luck fishing, Mick caught a good Saratoga and that was it.

    So that night we entertained the owner of the property and his wife with a magnificent camp oven roast and yes, some more refreshments. After the owners went home we went out to look at the irrigated cultivation, or as I soon named it the “honey pot". We went right up around the back of it and started coming down through the middle when Greg and I spotted another good boar on his own just as Mick was driving over a contour bank. With a bang on the roof, the international sign for, "stop the ute",  Mick passed Greg the rifle out the window and said "have a shot". The bullet didn’t meet with the pig, and then all hell broke loose with the pig heading for the mountain at a speed none of us thought a pig was capable of. A dog would have to have wings to catch this boar. Then it was on!!  Mick yelled, “hang on”!!! Greg and I hung on for dear life as Mick sent my ute across the flat with a sound coming out of the back like a jet engine. Mick blew up beside the boar, and we released the dogs. Within 50 meters the dogs had lugged up, and this boar was going nowhere. He wasn't as big as the one the night before but still another good 85kg pig. This is when I named the irrigation paddock the “honey pot”. The next morning we were up at daylight and decided to give the “honey pot “one more look before we left. So we drove on to the paddock, and only 200 meters in we saw another good boar heading off the cultivation. He was within 300 meters of the mountain when Mick stopped the ute. We released the dogs, it was perfect, the dogs were able to lug up on the 90kg pig before he got to the mountain. I then finished himoff. This was a great end to a fantastic weekend of chasing massive Dawson River Mountain Boars. I assure you we will be returning to the “Honey Pot “as soon as we can.