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| Rick's javelina brought up prior stories about him. Bob said in one his first few hunts, Rick had decided to go after boar. Rick was shooting a 44 caliber single shot pistol, probably a Thompson Center Contender, and the boar charged. As Rick was backing away, he fell over a log and the boar grabbed him by the ankle and drug him down over the hill towards the creek, breaking his ankle in the process. Had he been grabbed by the leg he would have been really hurting! Since then, his shooting hasn't been quite up to par according to Bob. I would've thought that would be incentive to make the first shot count even more after an episode like that but apparently it just shakes him up more! We all shared a great lunch together. Fallow deer roast, noodles, corn, homemade dutch apple caramel pie, homemade french vanilla ice cream, all the drinks you could imagine and homemade bread to boot. It was delicious. Eddie Potts, the owner, decided to take a moment and speak with me.during the meal. He asked how the hunt went, whether I was satisfied or not, could anything have been better and other questions. This really impressed the hell out of me because you'd think after dropping some cash after a kill a business oriented person would give a shit less. This wasn't the case though and he seemed genuinely concerned about my opinion of the hunt. We got on the subject of who comes to hunt and he agreed that the average hunter can't do it for a variety of reasons, which are common to all hunting in general. The average hunter may have the income from working a high paying job but can't hunt because of time. On the opposite end of the spectrum are the retirees who have the money and time but are of limited physical ability to do that sort of hunting. So you never really know who's going to show up to hunt at a preserve. I told him that the guides worked hard and I couldn't have asked for anything more of them. During the remainder of the day, I sat around talking with the gang and Sherri. Even after the hunt, everyone was still very hospitable. Heck, Bob shared his beer with me and I shared mine with him. It was great. As he left, I told him I would be back and appreciated his work and slipped him some money for his efforts. Being the nice guy he is, he decided to split it with Robert, the ram driver who assisted us briefly during my hunt. Just goes to show you what a nice guy he is. After he left, I chatted with the other Chicago and Indianapolis hunters before they headed out. They were undoubtedly having a ball though I'd hate to see their bill, it had to be well over $5,000 before taxidermy and butchering costs. One guy had a Remington 710 - the crap rifle of Remington, I nearly broke out laughing! This rifle is a shame to Remington's name, plastic stock, cheap parts, crappy scope. It looks more like a toy than a rifle but I suppose it got the job done! As they headed out I had mixed feelings and just wasn't sure why. I didn't think any more about it. When they returned for dinner, they had taken a whitetail buck and doe along with a spanish goat. The spanish goat apparently pissed off one hunter so he decided to shoot it! Whatever! We enjoyed another wonderful dinner of homemade lasagna with homemade sausage, homemade sauce from tomatoes that Sherri had grown in her garden, homemade bread turned into garlic toast, the half dozen wonderful desserts. I decided I'd go ahead and leave and said goodbye to everyone, including Reload Rick and the Remington 710 shooter George. A great time I had. As I drove home with my barbarossa's head in the back and the quartered meat, I tried thinking about what it was that was bugging me. Something just didn't seem right. I came to the conclusion it was two things. First, I was alone, nobody to share the experience with - not that it was a bad thing just unique since the last two preserve hunts I had been accompanied by family and friends. The second thing was the fact that it was a preserve. Preserves aren't for hunters perse' they're for shooters. I thought back to what the New Yorker said, "preserve hunting is a unique experience, how good or bad it is is up to you." Realizing this, I felt content with all that had happened and will probably venture there again sometime for sure. However, I think that something free ranging with antlers out west might be tugging at me or perhaps something with black coarse hair and tusks down south. I don't know for sure yet where this wonderful sport of hunting will take me but regardless whether I get anything or not how good or bad the experience might be will be up to me and the great hunter in the sky. Return to Hunting Stories Index Page |
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