Looking Back...My First Hunt

April 26 - My First Hunt

My first hunt.

So, as I mentioned before, I came to this whole hunting thing rather late in life.  In college there was a guy in my dorm building that lived in Nevada.  Each semester he would come to school with a new supply of venison that he would cook for himself on a hot plate in his room.  I thought this was one of the most badass things a guy could do.  Here I was in the middle of San Francisco with guys looking to enhance the inner female goddess or something, and this dude was killing and cooking his own food!

Each time I thought about learning to hunt things would push it off.  Finally, after a bout with some health issues I turned to my wonderfully supportive wife and told her that I was going to hunt…at least once...before I shuffled off this mortal coil. 

So…I took a hunter safety class, got a hunting license and bought a $300 rifle (scope included!) at Walmart.  (Walmart still sold guns in Southern California back then). 

After a number of trips to the local range I realized I had no idea how to hunt,…and the thought of parading around the woods with a gun scared the hell out of me.  I wasn’t even sure what woods I could parade around!

I called up Turners Outdoorsman…a sporting goods store here in SoCal, and was as blunt as I could be…”I want to hunt, I’ve got a hunting licence…what the hell do I do now???”  After a couple of phone transfers someone suggested I go on a guided hunt and pointed me in the direction of the Tejon Ranch.

Tejon is located about an hour north of Los Angeles, and at the time, (might still be) was the largest single tract of privately held land in the continental United States.  Roughly the size of Orange County California, the terrain encompasses everything from prairie to alpine, and even desert.  They have tons of wild life, but most importantly they have pigs…wild boars….and a crap load of them.

Years earlier a neighboring rancher decided it would be cool to breed Russian boars and bought a few from Mother Russia.  A lightning strike on a fence and 20 or thirty freaked out boars sent them scurrying onto the Tejon property.  Boars are a lot like rabbits.  They have litters three to four times a year, and each litter has four or five piggies.  Quickly they blossomed and took the place over.

A mega problem for most, the folks at Tejon decided to use it as an opportunity and offer a variety of hunts for the beasts. 

This is where I come in.

I contacted them, told them upfront I had no clue what the hell I was doing but wanted to learn, and the good folks took my credit card info and booked me a weekend on the ranch.

The facilities at Tejon are stunning, and since it was my first hunt I didn’t really appreciate how nice they were.  My guide was also great.  He was something of a cross between a cowboy and a naturalist and gushed with information about the ranch, the flora and fauna, and most importantly for me the nuts and bolts of the hunt. 

On my second day we spotted a large boar 200 yards out.  He ordered me to take the shot.  I was concerned about my emotions at the time.  Would I be regretful? Would I be sick?  Well…those thoughts were pushed back as I aimed my rifle and connected.  As we approached the now dead boar, I realized that my feelings were more ambivalent.   I was just happy I didn’t embarrass myself by missing the shot.  (Not to worry…that would happen many times on future hunts!)

My guide started the field dressing process.  This was going to be interesting.  Not since high school biology had I seen the insides of a creature.  Again…would I be nauseated?  Well…as it turns out I wasn’t.  The gut pile was what it was.  A mega meal we left on the ground for the other creatures that live at Tejon.

I helped the guide haul the carcass into the back of the pickup truck and we began the long drive back to the cabin and the skinning shack.  He turned to me an asked me how I enjoyed my first hunt.  Honestly, I was not totally enamored.  It wasn’t bad by any means, but it was not the deeply religious man vs. wild experience I thought it might be.  It just…… was. 

As we slowly made our way along the dusty dirt roads I would glance back in the truck bed and see my boar.  Within a couple of miles ambivalence turned to a begrudging pride.  That in turn morphed into a felling of being “part” of the natural process.  Finally, by the time we reached the Cabin it had grown to a full blown thrill.  I had hunted.  I would hunt again.  I had harvested protein.  I knew that later that night when I returned home, my family would dine on tenderloin, and the meat from this boar would last us for months.   I had literally put meat on the table. I had become a hunter.