Amateur Pig Hunting - 10 Tips to Success

Having never shot a gun, nor seen a pig in the wild, you could say I was very much an in-experienced hunter, but when the opportunity presented itself, my enthusiasm more than qualified me to join an expedition. No pigeons or rats for this buccaneer, my first kill would result from a 'do-or-die' situation. Kill or be killed I mused as I pictured myself pitted against the might of a charging boar. Sights aligned, trigger readied, Beast against Bullet.

As it turned out, the only time I saw bullets that day was when they were falling off the kitchen table as we gathered our equipment. I flinched like I'd just been stung by a wasp as they bounced off the concrete floor. The only eyes being batted were in my direction. Harden up, I thought, we're going pig-killin'.

So my two companions, a complete stranger and a friend of a friend, had guns, knives, and full camo gear, while I had a water bottle and a camera. There were other weapons I was told, namely Rat and Mouse, two specially bred pig dogs. They belonged to the most ardent hunter in the area and his home was a shrine to his exploits as a marksman. They were tied, with about ten other dogs, to the base of a large dead tree. The bark was black and the branches bare except for the hundreds of skulls that hung there. Empty eye sockets stared down from deer skulls as their antlers twisted into each other like some macabre foliage. Jaw bones from wild pigs, complete with pairs of huge tusks, hung in rows, sneered down at me. The dogs yelped and squealed and tore at their bindings. 'Pick me, pick me' they barked. Careful not to walk in the bundles of snares and traps by my feet, I stepped away from the scene.

By my judgement, the dogs were a greyhound-bull mastiff cross. 'Fast and Nasty' I was told. So, Tip number 1: Get dogs.

Off we headed, into New Zealand's rugged south island hills, with our guns and dogs and a sense of direction that only my companions were aware of. I assumed I'd just follow them and try not to get shot but my assumptions were misguided. To follow someone else's trail, I was assured, could be suicide as the hills were riddled with wasp nests. If someone disturbed a nest, it's the one following behind that will suffer the consequences. Tip 2: Beat your own path.

As we plodded along by a stream in a cool shaded gully, my two guides discussed our tactics. When one of them pointed to the ridge on one side of us I knew that we were in for a climb. And climb we did, for about 45 minutes, up a slope of about 55 degrees. Travelling through thick bush is hard enough on the flat, but with this angle it made for a hellish struggle. Tip 3: Be fit.

I finally reached the ridge and was confronted for the first time by the heat of the day. It was early morning but already in the mid 20's. As our next route was being discussed, just beyond eaves-dropping distance, I realised I'd have no say, nor would have any information, until I opened my mouth. "Where to now," I asked between gulps of air. "After the pigs," was the reply. Tip 4: Don't ask stupid questions.

We slid down the other side of the ridge and rested in the shaded gulley at its base. There had been no sign of the dogs since we left the car. No sign of pigs either. Tip 5: Don't get your hopes up.

I kicked a lump of mud into a small pool next to me. Just then, I heard rummaging nearby. The adrenaline began to flow as I imagined the pig charging in my direction. My guides didn't seem too excited so I took their queue to be calm. Suddenly, the dogs burst from the bush and scampered around us. One of them lay in the pool next to me. It was a pig bath, I was duly told. He lay there and rolled in the mud, picked up the pigs scent, looked through his eyes, had, for a moment, become the pig, then tore off in another direction. 'We're on,' I heard someone mutter.

I blindly fumbled through the bush, trying to avoid wasp's nests. One of my companions would point to a broken branch or a skinned tree and claim that they were pig markings. Sure, I thought. With each forced step and scratch to the face, my enthusiasm waned. I hoped that we wouldn't find a pig because I imagined dragging the thing back to the jeep, being covered by its blood, being infected by it's fleas, getting drooled upon as I tried to shoulder its massive weight. But then I thought, well, if we don't find a pig, then why the hell am I here? Why am I climbing yet another ridge, suffering another scratch to the face, twisting another ankle in the undergrowth if there is to be no prize at the end of it? My apathy became determination. Tip 6: Stay focused

We kept up to the dogs as best we could, resting when we could. Tip 7: Don't sit on the ground when hunting dogs are present, unless you want a thick film of greasy saliva all over your head and a lungful of retched, death flavoured breath.

I did savour some fantastic views during my trek and it as during one of these moments, while catching my breath and losing it again at the sight of the scenery, that some nearby rustling did occur. The body language of my companions signified that this was the real deal. A silent dog, I had been told, was a killing dog. A barking dog was one that encountered a pig so large it needed backup. The chorus of barking that ensued denoted a huge one. I heard some branches snap and some loud un-earthly sounding grunts. The grunts intensified, grew louder and morphed into full-blooded shrieks - like a stuck pig's I suppose.

I caught a glimpse of its huge shoulders as it darted through the undergrowth. I reached for my .22 rifle; the one that my mind told me should be hanging on my shoulder. I clawed at my nonexistent knife clip to unleash the hunting sabre that my adrenaline supplied me with. I stood, rooted with just clenched fists and teeth to defend myself with. Tip 8; Bring weapons.

Luckily for me the noise faded, carried in the opposite direction, and away into another day's tale. My companions saw fit to climb two more ridges, but even I knew the hunt had ended and that the fleeting glimpse was as close as I would get. No shots fired, no blood drawn, no addition to the tree of skulls

Unbeknownst to me, we had completed a full loop and ended up back at the start. Tip 9: Do a loop, for the sake of all your bodily functions.

Safe and well, I withered into the back seat of the jeep. All things considered; gunshots, tusk gouges and wasp stings, steep inclines and exposed ridges, my imagination had been my most dangerous foe. Which brings me to Tip 10: Learn to hunt pigeons and rats before 500 pound beasts. But you already knew that one.