A Pigs Tale

Take four blokes, three dogs, one 30-06 rifle(insurance), hunting knives, Tirfor winch, some cable, some chain, a huge esky full of cold beer, a Tojo 45, and you have a good recipe for some action.

Up north one arvo, I met some wild blokes in the Hayes Creek Pub. I was passing through and decided to quench my thirst at the bar. Got talking to these three characters about this and that and crocodiles and buffaloes and pigs and guns and hunting and as the afternoon wore on the stories became more embellished along the way.

Yeah said Pete “We chase them porkers down with the dogs and then jump on the pork’s back and fix ’em with our knives”

“Aaah yeah” said I in disbelief.

“No honest” said Pete. “Hey, why don’t we organise a day out fellas”

The upshot of this was that a week later I arrived back at the pub on the Saturday at about lunch time, met up with Pete, Bluey and Joe and their four dogs, bought four cartons of VB beer and an esky full of ice, and away we went off into the scrub.

We headed out through Mount Wells and along old mining tracks down towards some tributaries of the Mary River.

It wasn’t long before we found a family of pigs grazing and grunting along the banks of a damp creek.

All hell broke loose. The dogs scarpered over the side of the truck and Pete’s mates took off after them. Barefoot, mind you !

I followed suit trying to keep up and arrived at the scene just in time to see the deed being done to a huge boar. These blokes were fearless. They stood there grinning with long bladed hunting knives in their hands, wiping the blood off on the carcass. It was amazing. I had been pig hunting before but had considered rifles to be the best and safest form of attack.

Pete was still sitting in the truck and as we were all a bit out of breath they called out to him to bring the truck over. He complied. We heard the Tojo crash through the undergrowth and then rev like mad and then silence.

“Bloody Hell he’s bogged it”!, someone said.

We wandered over and found the Tojo settling down on it’s axles in the soft ooze. It was dry sand on top but ooze underneath. It was very deceiving. So we sat down in the sand had a beer and assessed the situation. After a while we had another beer. Then someone got the tirfor and cable and chains out and we hitched up to a Paper bark and started cranking in turns. The cable was stretched to its limit and it was going to take a while to get the Tojo moving. Then we had a few more beers. Things started getting blurry after a while. The winch cable was moving but nothing else was. But we were talking and carrying on with good humoured banter and having few more beers. Bluey lit a fire and we threw some big logs on for coals.

Suddenly the light faded, as it does up north, and soon it was dark. We cut a forequarter off the pig and threw it in the coals of the fire and took a break with a few more beers. We fed the dogs and had a feed ourselves and the winching became more sporadic. It looked like we were going to spend the night there. In our blurred state we just couldn’t figure it out. Had a go at the winch again but by eleven we were out of it and the Tojo wasn’t moving.

Next morning the Kookaburras woke us before sunrise but we just turned over in the sand and slept some more.

“Hey fellas”, one of the blokes called out.

“LOOK!!”

We couldn’t believe our eyes. The Tojo hadn’t moved and the cable was still taught.

Yep, you might’ve guessed it

We had winched another bend into the creek!!!!!!!!

Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!

Posted in Life Stories.