When we got home there was an email from Mike 308 that he had killed his javelina on Swallow Mountain northeast of Wickenburg. Hmm.

Monday and Tuesday I was on my own, since Michael had to work during the week, and David knows better than climbing steep stuff. I hunted some other mountains closer to home, again with the same lame results. To be honest, it was getting a little old. Especially so since I had seen javelina in some of those places occasionally over the years, even killed several. Now? Nothing. So I took Wednesday off, enjoyed breakfast with guys from my church.

For Thursday, the weather forecast was just too inviting, still and overcast. I explored another area, this time just west of our old ‘deep-in’ shooting spot. Again the same results. I quit a little past noon. On my drive back it was time to finally check out the Game & Fish water catchment. Meaning, I’ve known for years that it was there, but never stopped to take a look. Now I wondered if it even had water after a record number of days without rain, none since August.

OK, there is NEVER a good time to be an idiot! As I casually walked to where the water might be present for the game animals, one lone pig darted off. By the time my 1911 cleared nylon the critter had vanished into the bushes. Darn, darn, darn!! I should have approached that catchment as if javelina were present! Because in both 2023 and 2024 I had seen them come to open water in the middle of the day, also more than once, while I was waiting in ambush for deer.

Rare crowned saguaro, with my 4Runner in the background

Now it was about 1PM. In a pathetic attempt at damage control I got my chair and waited within pistol range of that open water – yes, the catchment had plenty. But by just before 3PM rain began to dribble. Time to quit.

Friday was out due to rain delay. At least, we did not go, even though it hardly rained. Made our wives a little happier spending Valentine’s Day with them. For Saturday, the plan was to explore Swallow Mountain. We did visit the area. It has its proper name because several swallows were hunting in the air. We glassed all day from many elevated spots, and up the hills from out of the main wash. By day’s end our eyeballs totaled two bunnies, one coyote and eleven deer. At the first stop Michael even spotted a lone javelina, over six hundred yards off and up a mountain, and moving away. We did not pursue it.

Sunday was the last day of hunting for David and Michael. We opted to return to the area northeast of Wickenburg. Except this time I hiked in, climbing, descending, climbing again, glassing, etc. No signs. I was supposed to be back by about noon. A little after that I dropped into a wide wash with truck tire tracks, but it wasn’t the one we had parked on. Hmm. A call on the radio at first got no response. So I walked a while, tried calling again. David answered. “Um, I’m not sure where I am. Can you drive the washes and find me?”

About a half hour later they did pick me up. Only to tell me that right as they received my call for assistance they had spotted three pigs, but far off. Lucky for me, they prioritized to get me first. Then off in the direction of those pigs we went.

When the road got us about as close as they concluded it could, we parked. I stayed at the truck along with David and his 4-year-old grandson Ethan (who wanted to run with the big dogs), enjoying my late lunch, while Michael climbed the hill to the south to hopefully locate those pigs again.

About an hour later he returned. He found javelina alright, but to the north. He had seen at least six on the mountain David and I occasionally had glassed. Now we were all on our binos again. Sure enough, eventually two javelina appeared below a fence that ran across the slope, silhouetted against the sky. And that was the problem! They might as well have been in the sky, appearing awfully far away near almost the top of the highest mountain in the area. Not only that, there was a significant valley in between them and the first hill. Why did this not happen first thing in the morning?!

Now it was around 3PM and we were tired. “I’m not going up there” was Michael’s dry comment. I was torn. Finally a herd of pigs, but indeed requiring a heck of a hike to reach. My mind said “let’s go get ‘em” but my body responded with “OK, go, but go without me”. Then Michael: “OnX shows there is a road on the other side of that mountain.” Hmm. Me: “Why don’t we try that, see how far and high it’ll get us, and then decide?” Michael agreed.

It was his customized and very capable Tacoma. It was also the worst path – I refuse to call it a road – I’d ever driven on. Yet his Toyota groaned and bounced and crawled.

Every moving part on his truck moved, and possibly some which shouldn’t. When that path eventually headed away from the mountain, we had gained more than half the elevation and gotten somewhat closer. Good enough.

We grabbed packs, guns and Primos tripods (not recommended as a walking stick, but sue me) and strained uphill, quite steep, now driven by the hope of finding that herd again. The fence should help us locate them again.

When that came into view, pigs did not. But Michael had gone higher, almost to the very top. Then he signaled for me to get to him. The critters had moved even further uphill from where we’d seen them last, and he had found them again. Within shooting distance, as it turned out.

“You shoot first with that suppressor” was his whispered instruction. Except at that moment I saw but one, moving out of sight to our right. So I sneaked that way. And almost blew it, as suddenly a pig was in full view, staring my way. As the Contender came up, that pig turned. I opted for a fast shot anyway, the 110 grain Vmax out of my .30 Herrett dumping that javelina over a small rocky ledge.

Michael guessed right. The tscherrrwhopp of that suppressed shot had not sent the rest of the herd into panic or flight, a sound sequence they probably had not heard before. I could not see any of this but from his slightly higher position he observed that some pigs froze, others milled around nervously. His S&W .44 barked, barked again, and again until he also center-punched a javelina. Hunt over. The rest of the herd fled downhill. It was around 4PM. I thanked the Lord.

For us it was now glad work, field dressing and carefully carrying our animals down to the truck. I almost forgot to take a picture before skinning, a lousy one at that.

The ride home was rather quiet. We were too worn to say much, not even grunting, but with an unusual hunt added to our memory banks.

On my 8th day of hunting