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But a big boar can be pretty tough,


especially when hunted and not just shot. In Europe any mature boar is considered a real trophy, and mature boars have learned that moonlit fi elds are best avoided. Consequently many of the big boars are taken on drives, where a fast-shooting, hard-hitting rifle is considered absolutely neces- sary. Every shooting range I’ve visited in Germany has a running-boar target setup, and not just for practice. Formal competitions are held year-round, and fi ercely contested. The guys from Sauer brought


along a running-boar target, and we got to practice on it between the morning and evening hunts. I did pretty well at it, partly because I spent a lot of time shooting running jackrabbits in my 20s. The Sauer 303s we had were all in .30- 06, a good cartridge for big boars, and unlike many autoloaders were extreme- ly accurate, with very clean-breaking, light triggers. I guessed the pull on the one I used at about two pounds, and was informed by Norbert Haussmann,


, Shaggie , Ghillie, P.O. Box 691 • Ramona, CA 92065 • 760-789-2094


the head of Sauer in San Antonio, that they keep the pulls between 2.2 and 2.5 pounds. We used two different factory loads, Federals with 150-grain Fusions and Hornadys with 165-grain Inter- bonds. Both shot well, and the accuracy and good triggers came in handy when my guide Bill and I fi nally did fi nd a trophy boar, late on the last morning of the hunt. We were hunting safari-style,


driving a ridge road between two broad, shallow draws, when I saw a lone black pig trotting through the mes- quite draw to our right. It didn’t take long to recognize it as a boar, either. Their shoulders grow tall and thick behind the long, wedge-shaped head, with the slim hindquarters forming a longer wedge in the rear. “Big boar!” I said, just before


Bill said the same thing. He braked the pickup and we quietly got out. Unfortunately the wind was just at the wrong angle, and the boar sniffed us and started running hard. I held well forward toward his nose at what I


estimated was close to 100 yards, and squeezed off a shot. There was the un- mistakable thunk of a solid chest hit, but the boar just speeded up. I shot twice more as he dodged through the brush, missing once and hitting a mesquite on the second. “Let’s go!” Bill said, and we


jumped into the pickup again. “I’ll try to cut him off!” We could see the boar fl ickering through the brush to the right of us, oddly enough angling closer to the road, and then he was in the open and running alongside the pickup, try- ing to run across the road in front of us. I had the muzzle of the .303 pointed out the open window, ready, and suddenly he was so close that it seemed possible to shoot while we were all moving. The boar bobbed up and down in the scope’s view from the bouncing of the pickup, but the reticle caught his shoulder for a moment and I pulled the trigger. The reaction was immediate and


startling: The boar’s nose hit the ground and he flipped end-for-end, ending up lying pointed back in the direction he’d come from, legs in the air. It took longer for Bill to brake the pickup, and when we looked back the boar was still lying there. I got out and walked back, the rifl e ready, and touched the boar’s rump with the muzzle. He was, as the head Munchkin said, really most sincerely dead. The Interbond had hit him per-


fectly through both shoulder blades and the spine. There was another bullet hole a few inches behind the shoulder from my fi rst shot, through the rear of the boar’s lungs. He would have died within minutes, but initially all the fi rst shot did was speed him up. His nose dive had broken off the


Trophy boars are judged on the length of their tusks, as well as body size and, sometimes, color. This boar has 2¾" of tusk showing above his gums, and weighed 245 pounds. The biggest Texas boar the author has ever heard of weighed 405 pounds on the accurate scales of a local meat cutting shop.


Page 36 July — September 2011


tusk on one side. Bill looked for it a little, but I didn’t care. The head of my California boar was in my kitchen back home, and one boar’s head is enough for this hunter’s lifetime — though I never will get tired of hunting them, or eating wild pork.


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