This post will take me few days as lots of things were killed and many days were spent doing it. Each day I will try to add a new hunt or day of hunting from my journal that I wrote while I was at the lodge. Using spears, arrows, bullets and shot shell we took on Argentina big and small game. A trip I'll not soon forget as I had a few near death experiences and lived to tell the tale. Here it is from my journal the first day at the lodge.....


Guns, Arrows and Spears – Hunting Argentina - 2011

BiG Boars journal – Day one at hunting camp

Wow, so much to tell you about. I’m sitting here with a giant grin on my face. This place is absolutely fantastic! I could go on and on, but where to start?

Our hunt was scheduled for April 20-30 for 4 hunters. It was an SCI auction that I bought on eBay actually, where the original buyer just couldn’t make it for available dates in 2011. It was such a good deal; I just had to experience South America. I searched high and low for the right hunter to make up our forth. The hunters are, Cory (my wife), Stewart (a friend of mine which I met while sheep hunting), and myself. We had a 4th lined up, but in the end he canceled, so we went just with the 3 of us.

Cory and I started the trip with 15 days roaming Argentina. When we originally thought of Argentina we thought we could cover the whole of it, or at least the major areas before the hunt began. We made it to 3 places. Our hub, and the hub of the country is Buenos Aires, or as the short of breath say, BA. We made the 4.5 hour flight to Toronto from Vancouver, and then on to Santiago Chile as a quick stop over before our final destination, BA (10.5 hours with a 1 hour stop in Chile). The flight was good; with enough sleeping agents we made short work of it. We met up with a business partner of my family’s in BA, and he was kind enough to take us out for the first night we got in. He explained it was a good city for the most part, just to be careful with your belongings. Basically, just do as you would back home.

One of the first things that grips you as you step into the streets of the city is the aroma of hardwood fires used for cooking. It reminded me of summer nights back home in the old days when people used to use briquettes to cook a good steak. That night we went out to one of the fine steak houses in BA and since then have consumed copious amounts of Argentinian beef. Wine goes with every meal, and for about half of the total price of back home. The food here has been great; mainly beef with every meal, but it is a good lean, tender, young, grass fed beef. Everything is cooked on a hardwood fire, and you really can taste the difference.

We traveled to the beach town Mar del Plata first where we had 2 cooler days and 2 hot days, around 28 at the beach. We relaxed at a nice beach front hotel for 4 days. It was built about 50 years ago, but has been redone after it was left vacant for about 20 years.

From there it was back to BA for a one night stop over on our way to Mendoza. It’s about an hour flight from Santiago Chile, right on the edge of the Andes. Mendoza is wine country, similar to California as the grapes are on the flats and foot hills, right on the edge of the mountains. We had an absolute blast in there, taking in 3 days of wine tours. Far too much red wine was enjoyed by us. It was nice with the temperature around 25 most days. Our two memories would be riding a wine barrel in the pool and Cory scraping her knee and elbow while falling off her bicycle on our second wine tour. We met many good friends at the hostel we stayed at, probably ones that we will even run into some time in our future travels.
Then it was on to BA for 3 more days where we would meet up with Stewart and enjoy some wine, steaks, and even a bizarre old Tango bar. We even hit down town where there are 7 million people. It was absolute madness, even on a Tuesday at 2 in the afternoon. I’ve never been in a place so busy.

However, the best part of the trip was still coming. The hunt! We flew from BA after a small delay to a small town of 25,000 people called Santiago del Estero. It would seem from the air to be in the middle of nowhere. We landed and we were greeted in a small terminal by Tony. He was to pick us up and drive us to the ranch. With very broken English like most locals, we jumped into his Toyota Hilux and hit the road. For three hours. Three hours of straight road. A few pigs and goats and cows were seen on the way, but mostly a lot of thorny bush. We even got to see a couple of Gauchos herding along their cows. As we turned onto the dirt road we started seeing owls, lots of owls. In 15 kms, I’d say probably 15 owls. I came to the understanding that they were road hunting or something.

Then we saw a fox, or zorro as it is called. Why not get started early? We tried for the next one we saw, but in my first of the season excitement, I forgot to cock the 22 rifle, and he got away.

As soon as we arrived we were warmly greeted by Paco, the ranch owner and his helpers. It was an enjoyable first night seeing the lodge and the many, many trophies and pictures littering the walls, even some of the past presidents of the US. On the walls are some of many of the different animals here in Argentina. Water buffalo, cougars, marsh deer, ocelots, black buck, wild goats, pythons, fallow deer, dorset rams and lots of red stags. After a half an hour of drooling and dreaming we sat down to beers, wine and mixed drinks, with Fernet, an unusually woody tasting black liquor, mixed well with coke. As the fire burned we sat and talked and headed towards our first taste of the local cuisine. Salad, mashed potatoes and pounded and Milanese (breaded) Red Stag. It was a very delicious meal. After a few more drinks we headed to bed dreaming of what would happen on the first day of the hunt.

This morning, after a good night’s sleep, listening to the crickets and what I imagined were pigs, but later turned out to be water buffalo; we woke to a foggy morning. Fog meant a sleep in and a late breakfast waiting for it to clear. We had our coffee and breakfast which was eggs and incredibly crispy and very salty bacon. One part they definitely do right is a fresh cup of percolated coffee, absolutely smooth and a great way to start every morning.

After breakfast it was time to check our sights. On every long distance from home hunt, the first thing to do is to check your weapons and make sure they are still on target and nothing is broken in the journey or out of whack. We chose not to bring guns as they cost $150 to bring into Argentina and we could borrow Paco's for free, if we chose to hunt with rifles. The only guns that had a cost to rent were the berretta shotguns, which take an absolute pounding doing their job. Those cost $50 a day to rent, a very minimal fee, and well worth it for a quality gun. We sighted in the guns and I checked the PSE Axe 6, 70lb bow I had brought and all was good. We were then showed how to toss the boleros, which is something like three rocks each on their own 3 foot string which is tied in the middle and thrown over the head, something like a lasso. The cowboys used to use these, but now they are just a toy. We toured the outside of the lodge and got to learn how to properly thrust a spear. Why learn to thrust a spear? Keep reading and you’ll find out. Basically it takes more brawn than brains. Try to slip it into the ribs with all your weight and lean into it holding the animal away from attacking you. A miss or a pull out is a big problem. It may seem brutal, but is a very very effective way of killing, probably better than an arrow, with most animals expiring in only 10 seconds or so. Depending on how good you do your job that is.

After a lunch of Stag tenderloin medallions, marinated in a red sauce over top spaghetti, we headed out to see what we could find. Our method for today was spot and stalk. The bush is thick and tangled with thorns on every tree and bush. Above you and in every tree, you see the sandy colored doves and hear the squawks of the noisy parakeets. About half an hour into the trip we saw our first animals, 1 lone broken horn ram and 2 smaller rams of some kind. As we came to a small clearing, we saw our first animal worthy of taking home, and with 1 shot from Stewarts 270 Winchester, it promptly fell over.

From there we found a 4 horn ram and I decided as it had massive top horns to give it a try. We raced with the truck 2 clicks around to the back side and would try to have the other hunters push the ram past me and my arrows. I got in place, nestled tightly in some thorn bushes and waited for the ram. At 30 yards I saw him and readied. He had stopped and I hoped he would walk into the clearing in front of me and would stop again. As most animals do, he did the opposite; he trotted quickly up and past me. I held the 395 grain arrow tipped with a carbon steel G5 fixed broad head. He didn’t stop though and I held right on his front shoulder. At the last second I decided to pull the trigger. The arrow missed its mark thoroughly and with a solid hit in the back quarter, he trotted off. I stepped out of the bush and watched with a sick feeling in my stomach. What was I thinking shooting a moving target? I nocked another arrow but at about 50 yards away he tipped over! I definitely got lucky severing the femoral artery.

As I walked up to him I was excited, I could see the mass and length of the horns on this strange animal. Four horns protruding from his skull, most people wouldn’t even believe this is a real animal. I chose to do a euro mount with this one because it was just so unreal. It almost looks painful for him! I also learned a valuable lesson being a newer bow hunter, don’t take shots you haven’t practiced for, especially on moving targets.

The animal was left for the trackers to take care of; we were on to looking for the next animal. As we rounded a bend a nice Texas Dall was spotted and Stewart quickly dispatched it as it headed towards us on a truly suicidal mission. The 270 cracked and the ram dropped in its tracks. After some good photos we headed towards the open fields.

One word, mo-key-toe. We were absolutely swarmed so badly that in the 28 degree sun I was forced to dawn my thermal jacket! It was insane! In a moving truck/jeep style hunting rig, these mosquitoes could keep up! Even when my arms and body was covered they actually landed on my finger tips and sucked blood! I’m still itching as I write this! At the beginning of this day it was mud wasps, which are massive, chasing us out of the ranch, but they had nothing on the mosquitoes! Plus the mud wasps leave you alone if you leave them alone. Every day since then, we have used plenty of mosquito repellent before leaving the ranch.

As we checked the next area we caught a glimpse of a big hairy body. Mostly white. It was a massive Dorset ram. At first I wasn’t keen on taking one of these, but the pure mass of the horns twisted my arm; thick and heavy the whole way over. The curls seemed to never end. I jumped at the opportunity and grabbed my bow, literally pushing my wife out of the way in my excitement, which she later reminded me of. After a 100 yard stalk and a long wait for a shot with my bow drawn for seemingly two minutes and a cut from my own broad head on my left index finger I seized my opportunity. With the bow mounted Leupold laser rangefinder clicked a 4th time checking the distance, I chose the 20 yard pin and let fly, threading a few branches that were in front of the ram with my arrow. The arrow connected and the ram made it 10 yards before tipping over. I felt good about the shot and patience was key waiting for a good broadside shot. We took some good pictures and we headed for home.

We returned home for a coffee, and as the night drew closer we chose out our shotguns. Using semi auto Berrettas, we were fitted to them and felt comfortable with our choices. When choosing a shotgun for dove hunting, you need to pick out two things. Reliability and reliability. We headed out not even 1 km from the ranch and dropped Stewart off for the evening shoot. As Cory hadn’t shot anything, I would wait for her to take the first dove. As we started loading the guns, they were already coming. They fly every morning to the soy fields and every evening to roost. They roost in the trees and it’s our job to intercept them. They are an absolute pestilence. I had heard the dove hunting was incredible, but I could never have dreamed of what this was like. Cory was loaded, ear plugs were in and a dove flew across in front of us. Boom and Yee Haw!!!! It was on, I grabbed my shotgun and the blasting began. As fast as my bird guy could shove 12 gauge shells into the gun while I held it, it was shot. That night, after several double doves with one shot, we put the doves to bed as the sun set. 172 doves fell from my blasting, with 270 shots fired. It was probably the most exciting type of hunting I have ever done just pure excitement and laughing and smiles while our bird guys were cheering us on. It was absolutely incredible!

Dinner that night was wild boar ribs. Really terrific! I would never have thought they would be that great. For 20 years on this ranch they never ate the ribs, but 2 years ago after trying some that were done right Paco decided they would be cooked. For 3 days in a row the gauchos refused to eat them. Then, when they were told no more meat until they at least tried them, they tasted, and enjoyed them. They have been savoring them since. Tender, boiled, barbecued on an open fire with home-made barbecue sauce, nothing beats em.

Ever meal here is followed by the ding ding of the desert bell. Severed by the ladies of the house was yet another amazing dessert. With every desert comes something that I have only tasted in Argentina, dolce de leche. Sugar and milk boiled for 8 hours. It’s basically honey consistency and is caramel. It goes with toast for breakfast, and just about on anything else. Very rich and very creamy. Good on just about everything, except your waist line.

After dinner we moved into the living room by the always burning wood fire to discuss the next day’s plans. We raised our glasses to shouts of Salut! to the days events, and after some BS with the guys at the lodge, and spinning tales of the Canadian north, we hit the sack for an early rise to shoot doves, hopefully tomorrow wouldn’t be foggy. To be continued……

Congrats on an outstanding report. By the way, the three balls weapon is called "boleadoras".

Continued....

6:30 came early, and in the breaking dawn we lit up the sky with plenty of shots! The sky was gray and the masses of doves weren’t flying as they were supposed to because of this. But it was still a good shoot and many a dove fell from the sky. Back to the ranch house for a breakfast of eggs and very salty bacon. As interesting as the bacon was the first day, I found the end of my like for it and its saltiness and put an end to this breakfast order from now on.

After breakfast we were out looking for wild boar. A few different varieties of pigs roam freely on this property. Wild boar, Russian boar, white lipped and collared peccary. The peccary at the moment are kind of on hold. Another province has decided to not cooperate and allow them to be brought into that province of Argentina. That province is Buenos Aires. Unfortunately, even though legal to hunt and export from the country, I can’t ship them from Argentina as they have to go through the capital city. There are 5 big game animals, all native to Argentina, and unfortunately Cougar falls on this list. Even though they haven’t been able to export cougars for 18 months, I have chosen to put out the bait for one, just for the experience and hopefully there won’t be too much longer of a wait before they are cleared to leave. In December they talked with BA and were told it would be changed shortly. So if I do get a cougar, it will be a while possibly before I see it at home. Even though we have cougar back home and a good friend of mine has hounds, I have chosen to take one here as they are cheap and I get to hunt them with a spear. This brings me to the next part of my tale. Spears.

The entrails of the rams on the previous day were hung about 4 feet up in the trees and the bait was set. The piglets and the foxes wouldn’t get to taste these, only the big boar hogs. They stand on their back legs and reach high to taste the fresh fly ridden sheep guts. The strategy is to attract the hogs and then let the dogs do the work. Cougars only take live bait so that is an entirely different hunt. For hogs, the gauchos race out with the dogs in tow and check the baits. Sure enough, the radio on the jeep crackled as the gauchos screamed ahead of us. They had a pig surrounded with the dogs barking on each side. Unlike some pig hunts, the dogs here only surround and stop the pig. They don’t latch on and hold the hog or animal. They don’t wear protection and learn quickly to stay out of reach of the massive head swinging razor sharp tusks. The gauchos circled to stop the pig and the boar attacked them! The pig charged and the horse wasn’t quick enough. The blood flowed from a deep gash in the rear flank of the horse. Down the white leg the blood ran red and the pig had a fire and a fresh taste of blood in its mouth. As we arrived to the crazed boar we parked the jeep and it was decided Stewart would take this first one. With a 44 magnum lever action rifle.

As Stewart jumped from the truck following Paco things got very interesting. Three seconds into this hunt Stewart pointed the mares leg 44 magnum rifle and there was a boom! then and as fast as it could have happened the mad pig dropped not more than 2 feet from Stewarts feet. He jumped back and the smoke cleared as the blood flowed freely from the skull of the Pig. After the ringing in my ears stopped (still standing on the truck looking over Stewarts shoulder) I started to soak in what had happened. The literally wild boar charged straight for Stewart as he left the truck and before he could pull the hammer back on the Winchester Paco whipped out his revolver and saved Stewarts bacon! It took a while to soak in, but my hands started trembling and I literally tasted fear in my mouth. That was way closer than even I had realized. In the three seconds, faster than I could have imagined, Stewart was nearly wounded, possibly mortally. This is why we have PH’s. Professional hunters, it all seems so easy, but when things get crazy, problems are solved. This time the problem solver was a 357 magnum handgun. The solid entered the brain and exited next to the giant cohunes of this massive 300 pound swine. I caught my breath and basked in frightening thoughts of using a spear on a boar like this.

However Cory was up next. Her hands shook as she thought of the possible consequences. I was definitely concerned, but somehow felt confident after standing next to a man like Paco. He would be able to stop most any problems, even if it was close. Then….the radio crackled…..

Paco, Paco, hurry! Hurry! A boar! We raced toward the gauchos and there was fear in Cory’s widened eyes. After 3 seconds of pushing her off the truck she grabbed the 44 magnum Winchester and headed towards the popping jaws of her hog. I followed her, somehow trusting she would protect me with nothing but a video camera in my hand. With cordura chaps to stop the tearing thorns on every tree and bush she headed into the thick bush after Paco, following the bark of the three dogs. Unsure of what might happen my video camera shook in my hand. I have been scared plenty of times in my life, heck I live for the next adrenaline rush, but I had just witnessed a man being charged and stopped at less than 2 feet by a handgun; I was heading into an unknown place.

Luckily the ginger boar was staying still. Unlike other hunts with dogs for pigs these dogs are just ordinary dogs. Just strays in the city, taken in by Paco to see if they can hunt. And these mutts hunt well. Staying just outside of the razor sharp teeth they bark and chase the tail of the pigs.

Cory lined up her open sight magnum and with one shot the pig fell. Shortly followed by the sound of Paco’s insurance policy. As they hugged, the boar took off! It ran 50 yards before sitting again, and 1 minute later, chasing it through the thorns, Cory lined up on it again. This time it fell for good. Thump! It was all over. A perfect spine shot in the neck. Pulling the great beast from the bush we admired the size and sharpness of the mandibles of this animal. And with that, it was my turn.

One of the reasons I was so eager to head south was spear hunting; legal in Canada, yet not often, if ever done at home. The spears made by the Cold Steel Company were re touched that morning and glistened in the 28 degree heat. The blade, 4 inches wide, double edged, and 15 inches long, were followed by a 6 foot wooden 1 ½ inch thick handle.

The strategy is to surround the pig with the dogs and finding an open side. Then one on one I attack the pig holding tight on the shaft, always pointing at the pigs head. Should and when it charges, you don’t stab but hold your ground and keep the pigs razor sharp tusks away from your person using the tip of the spear as a branding iron for its face. When you find your choice armpit on the pig you don’t just stab away, you charge the pig with your entire weight and holding the spear run the pig through to the stopper, imbedding the massive blade into the heart/lungs and push the pig off its feet, hopefully immobilizing it. Of course this is a best case scenario. Usually the pig moves before you get your perfect placement, and as it feels and see’s the charge of the spear, the pig doesn’t hold still for too long, slashing and swinging its Crest white smiley teeth towards its attacker….Me.

The adrenaline began to surge as the engine roared on the 1970s jeep/dodge truck. The smell of diesel plumes in the air as we charged forward in the open topped truck. From up top we saw the gauchos circling and saw the grey tan wiry hair of the boar surrounded by the dogs. It was go time! I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into. All I knew about this spear hunting was that it was possible and that it was incredibly dangerous. Cougars often run when attempted spearing, pigs almost always fight. As we dismounted the truck I was handed my weapon. Man vs. boar with nothing but a sharp stick. Two of them actually. Paco was backing me up with only a spear. No guns were drawn. We headed into the thick thorny cover following the sound of the clacking jaws of a 350 pound brute.

I lined it up and readied, as we closed the distance I stayed in front hoping everything would go to plan. Ten feet down to two feet, no problems. Pig was seated and snapping its jaws, hearing the clack of it sharpening its bottom 4 inch tusk against its top teeth. I closed the distance and at one foot away Paco’s words were “Stick it!” But the pig was too fast and a squeal came as it ran, chasing a dog! We backed out of the thorn bush the easy way and went around the backside of this clump of bush to get a better angle and closer to the pig.

Using the traditional bush cutting machete we cut our way into the rather upset boar. At a few feet away this time I wove my spear between the inch thick trees. Finding my spot perfectly in the pit of the arm I thrust with all my 230lb force forward deep into the heart and lungs of the pig, pushing and pushing the pig pawed the ground trying to mortally wound me as I was him, he wanted to kill me just as much as I did him. Five seconds which felt like five minutes later he tipped over and we ran through an opening in the brush to put one more insurance policy into his heart. As he lie on his side squealing I gave it one deep push into the heart and then when I thought I couldn’t go any deeper I put both hands on the blunt end of the spear and sunk the tip deeper, up and into the spine of the boar. The dogs jumped in and bit at the boar hog claiming the true victory as much theirs as it was mine.

The whole thing was over in ten seconds or less. A new feeling came over me and I wondered no more what it would be like. It was done. It was as effective as any bullet, and faster than an arrow death. It was an absolutely incredible experience. With the right tools, this is madness, yet somehow controlled, all at the same time. I felt a calm sense of primal relief. It is just so hands on and so intense, yet somehow I felt I was on a more even playing field with the animal.

As I jumped back onto our transport my 58 year old friends face lit up as we had one pig left in our package. He hadn’t really killed a boar yet as his was shot in self defense by the guide, so he decided all in that moment to take the last pig. He saw the excitement in my eyes and wanted it all for his own. We pressed on following slowly behind the horses in our chariot waiting and hoping for one more shout from the gauchos.

As we passed by a creek we heard their cries and saw the pig. I wished him luck as Stewart grabbed his spear and headed towards the action. Following with the video camera I watched as three of them with spears made their way like line backers, shoulders down heading towards the last and final pig for the day. At three feet from the pig I heard the call for charge! And I watched as Stewart’s spear sunk deep into the shoulder of the pig, followed quickly by the thrust of two more spears. The pig twisted and ran ten feet only to be stuck again and held as the spears sunk deeper into the chest of the adrenaline filled dying boar. As it was held fighting, the 357 stopper was handed to Stewart’s left hand. With one arm wrapped around the spear and the other clenching a magnum the shot was placed between the eyes and the boar suddenly stopped. Wow. It was as incredible as mine. I will relive it in my thoughts for some time. We were wide open in the middle of a field, it was man versus beast. It just doesn’t get any more primal than this.

After we got back to the ranch, sleep came over me in a wave and Cory and I crashed out for 2 hours. Only to be woken by the tapping of a shotgun on the door of our bedroom. Wake uuuuuu-uup! I rolled out of bed readying for another amazing evening of dove hunting. And amazing hardly describes it! The doves are an absolute plague to the farmers, just as rats are to them back home. Except they are not in the hundreds, they are in the billions. In one night you should have at least 3000 doves easily within shooting distance and probably five times that amount seen. You are placed on a 20 yard wide path somewhere deep in the thorny dove country. The doves appear in groups of two to fifteen for about four seconds total as they fly over your improvised yet brutal landing strip.

Then the doves begin to fall. It’s so insane as the doves return to their roost that you really don’t have time to reload even. Many hunters here who are here just for the wing hunting take two guns. They empty one berretta; swap it with the guide for a freshly filled gun, and as fast as you can pull the trigger the bird’s fall, if….you do your job. My work tonight consisted of helping farmers in a poor country, rid their fields of pestilence. As the tap of birds shut off my guide asked us all to come around and check the thumb clicker in his left hand which he hadn’t had time to look at for all the constant reloading he was doing. 491 birds went down tonight. Eight hundred and some shots were fired. An incredible evening and all I have to show for it is a really burned thumb as I grabbed the gun like some kind of hero attempting to prove my excellence shooting left handed I really scorched my thumb on the nearly red and unbelievably hot barrel. These guns are incredible and really go the distance. I honestly don’t think many others would stand the test of constant fire breathing down the barrel for 2 plus hours straight.

As I write this both of my shoulders can barely lift a cold beer to my lips. Not from the pounding of the gun on my shoulder as one might think, as I am wearing magnum level shoulder recoil strap on pad on my right shoulder, but from lifting the gun up and up again and again for so many shots. Tomorrow morning comes early so I will bid you adieu for now and hit the sack. If you ever get a chance to go on a dove hunt, take it. I will be back for sure, its indescribable on paper just how big a smile is on your face for so long. Probably the most fun a hunter could ever have in one day.

To be continued....

APRIL 23 – day 3

The day started out late. We woke up at 7:45 and hit the road by 8 am. As we got to the dove spot there were no doves. The main flocks had blackened the sky and left before we got there. Shot for 20 minutes but very few doves were hurt.

We came back for breakfast and after some eggs we donned our cordura chaps and headed into the black buck territory. One of the most beautiful animals here in South America, we really wanted one of these little antelope for our own, even though it’s not a native species. The fact is that there are more here than in their home country, which I believe is India. This is the only animal on this hunt that was enclosed in a high fence. They also had Red Stag and Fallow deer in the high fenced area, but we decided not to hunt these. We were told that the black buck could come and go as it pleased as they can slip under the fences and jump over them, but either way, we wanted one. It was decided before the trip that Cory would take one. She was dropped in a blind in the hopes one would hop on by. Using a bush pushing method was our plan of attack. Sure enough one was scared up by the gauchos! It leapt and dodged its way up to Cory and at about 20 yards she caught sight of it, these things are 50 pound rockets! With a buck shot loaded shotgun readied to intercept, she absolutely smoked it at a full gallop at about four yards away and it rolled break neck, arse over tea kettle, multiple times! One shot, right to the chest! A nice thick horned old bruiser for her. She was very happy and really enjoyed the hunt. Stewart also took a very big black buck with a classic texas heart shot from the 270 winchester. It had massive horns and 4 curls, definitely a real beauty as well.

Back to the ranch for a bite to eat, which was a potato sort of quiche, some spiced rice and hamburger patties with grilled cheese on them. Flan was the desert, but as I have been packing on unnecessary pounds I politely declined. A two hour nap and we were off to hunt doves.

Dove hunting was yet again a real blast. Cory decided not to shoot while I emptied two cases of 500 shots and only brought down 582 doves. I believe a few factors affected my shooting. The doves usually come over the rows at a perpendicular angle. However this evening they were flying parallel to the row and were seeing me and turning before reaching me. I also chose to wear safety goggles as I was getting either lubricant or gunpowder in my eyes. In the close to 30 degree head, they were fogging up with the heat coming off my face and the sweat off my brow. Who knew dove hunting would be so much work, but for the first part of the evening hunt, as fast as they could reload one gun and hand it to me I would exchange it for another pre-loaded one. A very good way to go through way more shells.

However I did find and catch an armadillo. When startled they ball up and hide inside their armor. We took our pictures with him and sent him on his way.

As for now, it’s time for a shower and then dinner. The people eat dinner in Argentina very late at night. Most restaurants don’t open until 8pm and don’t get busy till 10:30 pm! Some restaurants in town we actually left at 2am!

quote:

Originally posted by nainital:
Congrats on an outstanding report. By the way, the three balls weapon is called "boleadoras".

Nainital, what could have been outstanding was diminished for me by some of the depicted shenanigans.

A good report as far as the hunt experience is concerned but I found the other depicted escapades childish in the extreme. Brought to mind not the wonderful hunting experience but a college level spring break where wine women and booze was the main event. Oh well, to each his own.

April 24, 2011

As we missed the dove’s yesterday morning, we started out early this morning. Feeling slightly nauseous from the fernet and coke light last night I woke feeling a tad groggy and not on my game. But for the great shooting, I would give it my best.

Forty minutes of wing shooting produced 148 birds with 250 shots. The majority were in a 20 minute window of absolute madness. I have heard it was good here in Argentina, but it literally rains birds with so many it’s hard to choose which bird to shoot. This of course is compared to this evening’s hunt, where I shot 900 shots and killed 460 something birds. You would think the birds would thin out, but they don’t, each day is the same. There are a few different things shooters do. Some hunters just try to get 100 % success rate. They only take the sure shot, ones that are close and ones flying in the direction they are best at. A guy may be better shooting oncoming and left, rather than oncoming and right. My thinking is to learn all different shots and try for every one of these little peckers. Far, near, oncoming and going, some even straight up in the air! I did manage one parakeet and a couple of black birds tonight; however I wasn’t taking things very seriously, which is why my average went down. I shot left handed for several boxes, one handed for some, upside down gun, off the shoulder free hand, from the hip, and even behind the back, which is quite painful as a shell and hot gas is expelled into your lower back, not to mention raked at the same time by the semi auto extractor. Dove hunting is lots of fun for sure. It’s just losing some of its excitement after so many days and so many doves. However my friend Stewart is now on his game. He doesn’t do much wing shooting at home and now I have some competition. I’ll have to see what is the best I can shoot tomorrow, now that I’ve got all this experience.

With the bait of close to 1000 doves set we will head out for a night hunt tonight. Foxes, peccary, and wildcats will be out and about feeding. Each day they do a really good cleaning up the carcasses. We will see what the night produces.

During the day today, after the morning dove shoot, we went out looking for water buffalo. Arguably the most dangerous animal in South America, they often charge without warning, different from a cape buffalo which most of the time only charges once wounded. We soon found a nice buffalo, but it soon got onto our game and high tailed it out of the neighborhood. We went on searching for a bigger beast. Sure enough one was found for Stewart and he cocked and locked the 44 magnum ruger handgun with solids. The first shot to break the shoulder and the rest to finish it off, or if necessary, stop a charge. Not all would go as planned.

Using the shooting sticks and the handgun, the scope crosshairs were placed on the running animal, winding its way through very sparse bush. As the shot went off the animal really turned on the after burners. Two more shots were fired dropping the animal to the ground. He walked up to the 1700 pound brute and fired twice between the eyes still not killing it, one to the heart, a few bullets reloaded and 3 more to the heart lungs area. It was a tough animal. If the first shot goes well, it dies easy we are told, if not, it can live without a heart or breath for some time. I then pondered what my arrows would do to a beast of that power. In a few more days we will find out.

As I sit in the lodge with five enthusiastic Spanish speaking men sipping cold drinks, and falling on their knees as they watch the Boca Juniors winning their match, I wonder without the internet here, what the Canucks are doing in their series. Last I heard it was 3-1 games in the first series versus the hawks. Just about time for dinner, Buenos noches.

Awesome! Loved the report and photos. Nicely done.

April 26, 2011
So we went out hunting 2 nights ago. Using a spotlight and truck, perfectly legal here on the ranch, we went out in search of foxes, wild cats, and other possible big game including goats.

Not 500 yards from the lodge we crossed our first fox. Running as he was, I loaded the 243 and downed him with a neck shot. The gun choice was a bit big, but these are pests, so they are shot to control the population. Less than 200 yards from where he was shot is part of the ranch’s food source. Every morning our eggs come from the free range chickens that surround the ranch. Foxes are not welcome here. The dogs often come home with foxes in their mouths.

On one of our trips we did see a wild cat. A medium sized black cat ran across the road in front of us at 30 yards. I would describe these wild cats as very large, black, red, or spotted house cats. But they are wild and native, and again, are not currently legal for export from Argentina, until they sort out an agreement with Buenos Aires.

Later in the evening hunt we found a goat with a long beard. On a total impulse buy, my wife decided it was just too cool looking not to bring home. The goats are wild and only come out at night here. So this is how they are hunted. One good lung shot from her 243 dropped the goat and pictures were taken. I have smelled, smellier goats, but this one was pretty strong too. We continued on the hunt and found an almost pure black goat for Stewart, which had even longer horns, by at least a few inches on both sides. The beard was a tad shorter, but both were beautiful trophies.

On the way home, Stewart shot a fox or zoro, which we had to finish with the 357 a short ways in the bush. The bush is thick and full of thorns; the only way to go through it is with a machete on all fours.

As the 243 was making its rounds, I was next up and at 70 yards the fox near the water hole stood no chance. A perfect lung, heart shot dropped the brownie, red, and blackish tailed fox in its tracks.

Yesterday however was a very exciting day. One last morning of wing shooting was exciting yet again. My best ratio so far; 35 shells missed their mark, but 128 connected. It is strange, as they take off in the morning, they start low and as the 40 minutes of madness increases, they get higher and higher. Some shots I was absolutely surprised that they dropped from the sky. I could guess and say 50 yards. In the end I was grateful to have brought a Past brand recoil shoulder pad, my shoulder didn’t have any issues other than the actual soreness from lifting the 12 gauge berretta to shoot so many times. I have to say I will definitely come back again, if not just for the wing shooting. It was absolutely incredible!

For all the smaller animals I am using Velocity Xt Gold tips with 100 grain Montec CS Fixed broad heads. After the morning dove shoot I went out to the bale of straw and 12x12x4 inch foam, 8 year old archery target. The set up was a bit bush league, but I had to change my currently set up PSE Axe 6 70lbs to shoot my 500 grain buffalo hunting arrows. I was using 125 grain Montec G5 fixed broad heads, followed by Kinetic XT gold tip arrows. After 45 minutes I had the sights all adjusted and I was as ready as I could be. I went into the barn out back and sighted in the bow mounted laser range finder made by Leopold. Unfortunately I did not tighten the thing down enough and even though it worked well when setting it up, I dropped my bow later in the day when getting hit by a thorny branch in the face on the back of a truck. So far the thing has worked flawless and fast on a couple other animals, I would recommend them for most hunting situations, however, after a strong blow and what I would say was not a tight tighten down it did let me down for this buffalo hunt. Luckily I knew the range was off and it didn’t cost me the shot as I had Stewart’s range finder as a back up one on hand.

The hunting here is limited by your shoulder for the doves and your pocket book for the big game. I had wanted to hunt the water buffalo for some time and thought it would be a great challenge for the bow and my skills around dangerous game before pursuing a grizzly this spring with it. My budget limited me to a younger 6-10 year old bull. The hunt I was looking for was excitement and danger; I have to say I got my hunt.

We headed out onto the 20,000 acre ranch in search of a good bull. A big great bull was located by the gauchos and I was directed into the area to find and try to kill him. There are 4 types of water buffalo on the property. All have different horns. Some of them are downright freaky looking with long dropped horns, but the one I was after was a Mediterranean variety. As I first saw him running from the truck I worried how we would stop him and how I would close the distance of this very macho looking bull. You can sit in a stand over water if you like here, or hunt spot and stalk; mine was using dogs and horses and trying to keep the bull busy enough with the dogs to sneak in close for a shot. A lot can go wrong, and very often these buffalo do charge.

After following the running bull for close to 4 kilometers the beast stopped and we jumped off the bush truck. I know what some people are thinking, not really a hard hunt. I would have to agree. What makes it hard is the danger. What kind of danger….I’ll tell you about danger.

As we got off the truck, I looked at the dogs surrounding the buffalo and biting the nose and balls of the now very ticked off animal. As I knocked my arrow onto my string I thought to myself, okay, make sure everything is perfect. Go through your steps to ensure no mistakes. Then I heard a “He’s coming!! He’s coming!!!” My eyes widened to see 1800lbs of fury heading directly at me. I turned, grabbing my arrow from the string and with 2 full grown men with big bore rifles next to me I ran as fast as my 31 year old legs would carry me. As I looked behind me I worried about the sheer size of this very angry bull and the horns he had mounted on his head. If I could make it around the truck, maybe like a matador the bull would keep going straight as I ducked neatly away. Nope. The three of us kept running as the bull continued to chase. Of course I was also rather worried about the 500 grain razor sharp arrow I held in my hand. I don’t know why I didn’t just throw it away, along with the bow, but I held tight and ran with the group. The PH Paco stopped on the far corner, hoping the bull would circle past him. At 20 inches from the barrel of the 458 Winchester he circled just past Paco, hitting the corner of the truck with his horn, still chasing us, just missing him. He chose not to fire, to try and save the animal for me to shoot. If he has to shoot it, I still have to foot the bill. Makes for an upset client in some cases I suppose. In the instance where Paco shot the pig not two feet from Stewart’s feet I was thinking, that kind of sucks that Stewart doesn’t get to kill his pig. But that is the risk of hunting dangerous game. If the client can’t finish the deal, the PH must do everything in his power first and foremost to protect the client and himself. I guess I didn’t understand this at the time, and it was close, incredibly close, 20 inches from the barrel close. The video we took of this incident looked quite comical seeing 3 full grown men run around the truck being chased by a bull, but in the moment I was definitely full of adrenalin or fear. And with that the bull took off into the bush full speed again running with the dogs hot on his trail. I took a second to gather my thoughts and my hands were shaking with what I could only call fear of what might happen next. Most clients at this point would either grab a handgun or a rifle and finish the job, but being seriously addicted to adrenalin, I crave this kind of excitement. And the chase was on again!

We found the bull 4 kilometers away and very upset. What I would think would be very tired was very full of energy and still charging and swinging its head at the dogs. On this chase however, a branch smoked me in the face and cut open my face with its thorns and branches, missing my eye by mere inches. In the trying to avoid it I fell over, losing my bow and here I believe I whacked my bow mounted Vendetta rangefinder, which up until this point had never been knocked out before (keep in mind it was not tightened properly). The bow fell 3 feet from my hand and I quickly checked it over to see if everything looked normal.

Once again as the bull stopped with the dogs around it we got off the truck, this time worried about the possible charge this violent beast might have left in him. I closed the shooting distance with two forty caliber plus rifles on either side of me with my soberingly small and pathetic bow in hand. After 30 seconds and the bull charging back and forth after the dogs, I just didn’t have a shot. I was told I may be shooting a running animal, but I just didn’t feel I had the confidence to ethically take this buffalo. I would be patient and hope for a solid broadside shot of a stationary target. We got back in the jeep and found our way out to the guys on horses. They knew like every good bull, he would try to hide in the bush and make you really play on his terms. The bush is just too thick so we closed our distance in the truck pushing thorny entanglement out of our way until we were 20 feet from the bull. Banging on the truck and trying to clear the bull back into the open was seemingly hopeless. A minute later Stewart decided to blow on a couple distressed rabbit calls. Sure enough it worked! The bull ran head down straight at the truck!! 1800 lbs head on at a speed that was serious business and the bull smashed the truck with unbelievable power. The Jeep shook and Paco mentioned the possible state of the radiator. The bull took off again and found a group of cows it now felt comfortable hanging around.

My hands shook again as I grabbed my bow and jumped off the truck. This time with eyes up I knocked my arrow and readied my bow. Drawing and ranging the animal I got 61 yards. Yep, my range finder was definitely off. It looked closer to 40 yards. Calling out to Stewart I asked the range and found it to be 41 yards. The bull spun and turned, looking for an escape but the game was up. It was us or him. I asked the guide to close the distance but they didn’t think it was safe. I wanted a 30 yard shot to be sure of a good first arrow. Normally you only get one chance on these animals. If you screw up your first shot, the adrenalin will surge through its veins and then with even great shots you can have real trouble with these animals. I wanted a good heart shot. Quartering away would be even better, so it doesn’t run towards us maybe!

We slowly made our way to 31 yards and the bull turned around quickly several times but each time I didn’t have enough time for a shot. Finally he stopped, quartering away at a steep angle, it was show time. I put the 30 yard pin just behind his ribs, real low to take the heart and slowly squeezed off my shot. The arrow flew and hit its mark, disappearing into the animal. Too low was what I heard from my rifle hunting friends, but I didn’t think so. The bull spun and faced us and I readied for a charge. Then it turned again a quarter turn giving me a perfect broadside shot, and my already drawn arrow flew straight four inches behind the front shoulder, the penetration wasn’t perfect, I am guessing ten inches. Five seconds after this shot the buffalo wobbled and its front feet left the ground as it toppled back over onto my second arrow. It sat back up and tipped over again, and then once more. I closed the distance to twenty yards and sunk my third and final mercy shot into its heart just missing its brisket. Thirty seconds later it was still and I got to walk up to my buffalo. The horns were thick and strong. I was impressed. What an incredible experience.

The one bad thing here are the mosquitoes or mo-key-toes. Today I was stung about four times. With Off on! It’s only in the swampy grass land area though. Most of the ranch is mosquito free and they aren’t a problem.

Another interesting thing at the ranch is the service here. It is great. There are 2 helper guys, Carlos and Carlos (or Charlie) as my dove guy left along with his son who was Stewarts dove boy. The sons name was Fernan and my dove guys name was Ramone. They all seem to understand Basic English but have a hard time coming up with the right words they want to say to answer the many questions I have. They usually ask Paco, or Carlos or Fernan the word they want to use to answer the question. It’s funny, on several occasions, the answers are clearly meant for a question they didn’t understand. They tell you an answer and then you have to simplify your question and clarify it.

There are three women who work in the kitchen and lodge just as servants and cooks and cleaners. Every morning our laundry, be it 1 sock or 10 pieces are picked up and washed by hand if left on the wicker stand behind the door to our common room. Each day goes similar here in the lodge. You are asked when you will take breakfast and asked how you want your eggs done. Mine are scrambled and they have this homemade hot sauce for me at every meal including breakfast. One thing this country seems to lack is spicy food, the most I have managed to find in Buenos Aires is crushed chilies for a pizza and Tabasco sauce. Here at the ranch they pick the wild peppers and freeze them. Then they chop them and mix them with olive oil and chopped garlic. It’s a different pepper. It’s got a flavor all its own, very nice though.

After lunch and dinner a small but heavy brass bell with a deer horn handle is rung and the paid servants come to collect the plates and bring us the dessert of the day. Man the cooking is good here. I almost always want seconds. Usually I indulge, but I am really trying to keep my weight in check for my upcoming grizzly hunt and my stone sheep hunt in August. Anything needed is granted here by one of the helpers or Paco, it’s a very easy life, and very relaxing. The Quilmes lager beer is smooth, and the Danzka vodka and coke at the moment I write this are going down all too smooth.

After the buffalo was down we came back, had our daily 2 hour siesta after our coffee or beer, and then watched the videos we had taken and the day's excitement and danger. We sat on the patio for a while and I listened to the plaguing noise of the parakeets. After I had had enough of that noise I went inside and grabbed a weatherby semi auto 12 gauge. With 4 shots in the pocket I quickly downed 6 or the noisy parakeets and went back to enjoying my beer and the sunshine.


So that was all yesterday. Today we woke late, sleeping in till 9 am. I had a nice hot shower and after breakfast we jumped in the hunting rig to go look for a Dorset ram and other animals. I particularly want a Texas Dall. Stewart had found and blasted his thick and heavy curled Dorset and then quickly dispatched a very nice 4 horned ram. On our way back we happened our way across a very good and long Texas Dall. I chased it for two kilometers hoping to get into shooting position with my bow, but even after trying to push it to me it was to no avail and we got out of the hot Argentinean sun for lunch. We did leave the driver lost somewhere on his hands and knees crawling through the ant and pest ridden bush with nothing but a machete to defend himself still chasing that crazy sheep.

As opposed to last night’s dinner of buffalo liver curry and a side of buffalo tongue, which was very good, tonight we enjoyed ox tail soup, followed by wild boar loin, stuffed with some kind of sweet centre, maybe dates or something. Again the food is just too good here, the aromas that come out of the wood fired kitchen leave you always wanting more. On the other ranches I have hunted the food has been more Americanized as one of the hunters seemed to detest wild meat and demanded civilized food. This trip we haven’t tasted beef, pork, or chicken. I have to say though, it has been good.

I look now at a picture of a cougar that scores 16 and 3/16. The bodies here are much smaller than our Canadian species but the heads are large. It must be genetics. Either way, the baits are still out and I still wait for the rushed call to tell us the live bait has been killed and buried and there is a cougar nearby. Then the dogs are set on it and soon my spear hunting skills will be tested again!

Tomorrow I hope to find a true Russian boar and spear it. Paco says the boys will try for one specifically. I have already taken my boar, but I really want a Russian boar as they are a different creature all together. 1 in 10 seems to be a Russian boar, but with every chase the dogs are in danger, and you can’t specifically tell the dogs to only chase the pigs with a Russian accent. Peccary’s, wild boars, Russian boars, cougars, and other nasties endanger these dogs daily. They are only mutts, but incredibly well trained hunting machines, designed to track, smell, find and corner their prey, until the hunter arrives.

Well, I am off to bed. Hopefully my tale continues tomorrow.

April 27, 2011
Wow! Just when I thought things couldn’t get more exciting. Today was incredible! We woke at around 9 am to a tap on the door saying, “Wake up! Russian Boar Time!” with a thick Spanish accent. We had our breakfast of eggs and toast and coffee, and looking out the window we saw some clouds, a good reprieve for some of the heat. Where we are hunting is very dry which is far better than humid. Today it got up to 30 degrees here. Most days around 25; which is very nice. This is their September and to the people here it is cool. Most are wearing pants and long sleeves around here.

Most animals at Anuritay Ranch Argentina are completely wild here on 20,000 acres. There are some high fences for the more expensive animals like most serious hunting ranches. If you have a world record 580 score Red Stag that sells for $80,000US, you want to protect your investment as you have probably had it for ten years. To some this (high fence) is not hunting, and I would agree in some ways, which is why for this hunt I chose to hunt the rest of the ranch. This ranch has been around for 19 years, it’s a business, and a hard one to run well. In 2005, Paco was the SCI professional hunter of the year, for the entire world. It is a great achievement and it means a lot to him. However he takes hunting very seriously and doesn’t agree with all SCI and realizes the truth behind some of the smoke. It’s a good thing for promoting his business and he has worked very hard to build the greatest hunting lodge in South America. Some ranch owners BS you with the quality of the trophies they have, but Paco insists on only taking absolute prime specimens, and won’t let you shoot just anything you see. All of the trophies so far have been absolutely fantastic.

Back to the Russian boar. I have been hoping for one of these to add its angry face to my wall for some time since I saw one in a magazine a couple years back when I first started hunting. Yeah, this isn’t Russia, but I highly doubt I will ever make it over there hunting. But who knows, maybe one day I’ll have a chance. The gauchos mounted their horses, and the dogs were tongue out, wagging their tails and we got onto the truck to head out for the day.

Checking the baits we heard the, “Paco! Paco! Paco! Yahoooo!” Followed by Paco's response on the radio, asking what the dogs had found. Unfortunately it was a spotted boar, not what I wanted. We already took our 4 boars on this hunt, and I wanted a pure Russian boar. One color only was the translated response from Paco to the boys. We would have to round the dogs up and keep looking. Luckily one of the three dogs will come when called, so they call that one, and leave the other two, when the other two are alone for a while they quickly retreat to their masters on horseback.

A half hour past and the radio crackled. “Paco! Puma!” I heard. Now, I speak very little Spanish, but I know what a puma is. To those that don’t know, puma, means cougar! They had found a puma, and it was time to go! We had been baiting for some time, tying live small goats out to pasture, hoping a puma would attack, but it was hard to believe that Puma hunting can be so productive in one area, like Paco’s ranch. On average 25 puma are killed per year at this ranch and surrounding farms. Paco has a deal to pay $500 to anyone who calls him telling him of a Cougar killing their animals in the area “if” the cat is caught and killed. I had decided on taking any decent cat that was a good representative of the species, or what is called a silver medal cougar. This means any cougar we come across that is full grown. It isn’t guaranteed to be record book, but just a good South American Puma. Male or female doesn’t matter to him as there are just so many of them here. These look similar to our cougars, and I believe are the exact same species, but on average they are just over half of the size. I am guessing genetics, just like some areas in BC. Some areas have bigger genetics and some have smaller. South American Puma is a smaller species, but something still worth taking, if given the chance. Especially when you have the chance to face one, face to face, with nothing but a spear.

Spear hunting is by far the most exciting hunting I have ever imagined. It’s hard to describe why, but it just feels equal and incredibly dangerous. You versus the animal, your speed and wits, versus its teeth, tusks, or claws. They may be smaller these puma, but don’t let their size fool you. They will latch their claws over and over again into your flesh while trying to crack your skull and eat your brain! At the same time their back legs will be spinning, trying to tear your intestines out like a butcher making chorizo sausage. Most of the time though, they don’t want to fight, they just want to find a way out.

70% of the time the cat stays on the ground, in the bush, 30% of the time it trees. As we heard the barks, we made our way to a man on horseback, pointing his hand up into the tree! “Quickly! Quickly! While it is low in the tree!” he exclaimed! I grabbed my spear, the long one, with no stop on it, and a smaller blade than the one used for pigs. This one does less damage on the pelts, and it works well for puma. Both spear types are incredibly lethal and something you must beware of, running to the face off. One wrong move, your pants get caught on a thorny bush, you trip on an ant hill, or you fall into a fox hole, and you will die out here with no air lift support, and 90 kilometers to the hospital, should you fall onto that blade.

This Puma went to the tree. He stayed about twelve feet above the ground and hissed and bared his teeth at us. Feeling the need to work quickly before he would leave the low area of the tree, I moved towards the very defensive cat. If you don’t get them while they are low, you have to climb the tree. I felt more comfortable on the ground. I then managed to snap two pictures of the cat still very alive. But it was go time, spear in hand, I readied and closed the distance. At two feet from the spear point, the cat turned to look at the barking dog opposite of myself, at which point I thrust my blade toward the heart of the cat! Somehow as the point neared the cat it sensed it and ducked and backed up. I caught the cat high and in the front of the shoulder. With a deep push I got the top of the lungs and twisted the spear head to finish him. He sank further away as the spear head poked through him. I handed the spear to Paco and he gave me a second spear. He held the cat against the tree with the spear so he wouldn’t slide down the spear and I went under the limb the cat was hanging on to mercy kill him with a spear to the heart. A perfect thrust sunk deep into its chest and the puma twisted and bit and tore at the spear, breaking its teeth. After twenty seconds of wild fight, the cat died and I felt the warm trickle of blood down my forearm from the spear I was holding. This was one crazy experience, I still have a hard time believing I speared a puma!

Sometimes you just get lucky I guess. I got my cat, and it was a very good Puma for Argentina and South America. I am happily looking forward to the time when I get to export my Puma from the country. Now it was back to the Russian boar.

The Spanish words came over the radio and Paco looked at me in the eye and said, “Are you ready for a pure wild Russian boar?” Now let me explain something. Regular wild boars are bigger, maybe 300 lbs on average, but getting as big as 500lbs very occasionally. The Russian boar’s here are a tad smaller, around 200lbs. The one I was about to face off with looked around 250lbs. That being said, they are far more dangerous. They are faster, more agile, and definitely one of the most risky animals of any hunting in South America. Sure, if a buffalo gets a hold of you, you are in real trouble, but the chance of this guy getting you and seriously hurting you is big trouble Joe. We got off the truck and as I looked Paco in the eyes, his eyes told me something different. As if to say, you are in for a fight.

I rushed towards the boar under the 15 foot tall trees. There is about five foot of head clearance from the thorny branches and one very pissed off angry Russian boar charging, snapping its tusks and snarling, a sound I have never imagined, even in a night mare. This wasn’t going to be easy. This thing was fast, and crazed! It actually looked angry!!! As one dog snapped at the tail, the boar would spin and charge, slashing with its 4 inch long fangs at the dog. Then another, and another! This pig was VERY upset. I was concerned at this point. Standing 20 feet away I wondered how to safely close the distance and yet somehow keep myself safe. Even Paco was standing further away. As the dogs snapped at the boar, I would look at the boars eyes and all the time, it was watching us. I remembered Paco’s advice. Keep the spear short and don’t stab at it, but hold the spear and your ground as the pig comes at you. This boar meant business. I then consulted with Paco, what do we do if he comes again? He laughed and with his usual rough smoky voice said, “When the boar comes, you put the spear into it.” He cackled to himself and stood back, getting ready with his spear if there might be a problem. The boar moved right a few steps and then left, angling towards me. He stopped. “NOW!” “When?” I thought to myself. The boar had sat down for one second only. The boar saw me coming and charged! He squealed a deep and angry loud snarl as he ran at me! And time froze for a moment as I remembered Paco’s words. Hold the pig with the spear, anywhere you can on his face or body. The pig ducked my blade and the point connected in front of the shoulder high and angled down towards the lungs. It let out a blood curdling squeal and my eyes went wide! I could see the whites of his eyes and he looked down right pissed off! Snapping his teeth at me trying to get at my legs. I pushed the 4 inch wide blade deeper into the body, hoping to hold the pig and tip him over. He fell against a tree and Paco’s spear connected two seconds later. I traded my pierced spear to Juan for a third spear and placed a perfect spear into his heart. I have never heard as loud a sound come from an animal, this thing did not just squeal like a stuck pig, it sounded like a demon possessed pterodactyl. This pig was dying and 20 seconds which seemed like an hour later, it was all over. All I can say is that was insane. I have jumped from planes many times, from bridges, with cords tied to my legs, done wheelies at 120km/h over the Golden Ears Bridge, and there is nothing that has released so much adrenaline, into my veins as these spearing experiences. But it was over, and it was incredible!

At lunch Paco came to Stewart and me with a deal. A few more animals each at a very reduced rate. We came to agreement and I look forward to the next few days. It should make for a very interesting next few days. In the end, I leave with a South American bow slam. A tad more than I had anticipated spending, but this is just too much fun and I might not make it back for a few more years. No regrets is the idea, right?

Well yesterday was another good day. It started out with Stewart shooting his Hybrid Mouflon. The thing was incredibly long and massive. A very good trophy for sure. A knife to the heart finished the animal. Kind of brutal, but the gun he was borrowing seemed to be shooting low and right consistently on most of the animals. Normally Stewart is a great shot but this was not his rifle and I do believe it was the rifle and not the shooter, in retrospect, it may have been worth re-sighting in. Last night when we went out looking for his brocket deer, one was spotted and at 150 yards Stewart made a very good shot, he decided to shoot the gun Cory had been using a 243 win built by Ruger. A brown brocket is a very tiny Native deer here with only 4 inch spikes being a very good trophy. Of course it did run off and about 100 yards, but I think it was a good shot. The dogs were sent out with the trackers with machetes and a path was cut following the dogs on leash to find the downed brocket. The truck came in with lights flashing and honking horns during dessert to top off the evening with relief that the animal was found. On a surprise note the horns were very good and might even make the record book!

Earlier in the day we headed out to hunt what I thought was my Texas Dall ram, but this time Cory would shoot it. Wrong. Leaving my bow at home, we ended up hunting the Somalia ram. This is a goat from, you guessed it, Somalia. It is the most expensive animal on the Ranch to hunt, and the only real reason we ended up hunting it was because it would be included in a package at a greatly reduced rate. Of course I was hit up with this deal a few Quilmes deep, I’m not sure I remember the part of the aggrement where Cory got to shoot the ram!

We went to the field area where Paco thought this rare goat might be browsing. Sure enough as we came around the corner we spotted white and black running about 60 yards off. This was a big one. We jumped off the jeep and closed the distance to 50 yards from where he had run to. Stalking in this type of country is terrible. Everything has a thorn or a burr on it. These cardios burrs get everywhere and stick into anything, even flesh. Against Cory’s advice I did not put on my chaps. These chaps are wicked. They slip over your legs, right over your boots and no burrs stick to them, they are almost like a cordura material. Anyways, coming around the bush in front of us, I spotted the goat running and put up the shooting stick, singular, with a forked antler on top, far too low for Cory’s 6’2” lanky yet amazing body. As the goat came to a halt at about 90 yards the 243 cracked and I heard the thwap of bullet connecting with flesh. The goat took off running behind some bush and she got set up again on the stick and let him have it again, the goat tipped over in the grass, disappearing. We made our way through the cardio ridden grass towards the downed animal. As we sized up the horns of this incredible animal I felt a cardio right up my shorts in my crack. I bent over as Cory picked it out and I was once again happy. I really wished I could have been the one taking this Billy as it is one heck of an animal!

Also during the day I got my chance or rather second chance at a very big Texas Dall ram. I had to choose between a Texas Dall and a capybara and I just didn’t think I could do anything with a capybara back at home. I got set up and waited for the ram to hopefully be funneled past me by the guys pushing the ram. Of course the ram didn’t come by and instead took to the bush again. He went about 10 yards deep into the thorns however was found and spotted hiding. I saw my chance and took a shot with my bow. The animal went down in seconds and that was that.

Today Cory just finished learning to make empanadas, one of her favorite foods. We had thought about learning this at a cooking class, but she just got the lesson from the cooks here instead. Cory loves these pizza pop like things. Today it’s raining, it stormed all night and we won’t be heading out for the one animal we have left to take, Peccaries. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.

There is something special about taking an animal that you can only get in one place in the world. White lipped peccaries fit in this category. There are lots of peccaries all over the world, collared peccary is probably the most widely spread. Most people call them javelina. They have both collared and white lipped running free on this ranch, and many people fly specifically to this area to take this elusive and rare species. These peccaries are a lot bigger than the Texas javelina. They are probably about twice the size at 70-90lbs.

Of course we are going to try to take them with spears. Even though peccary isn’t near the size of a boar, it is one of the most dangerous animals on the ranch. The inside of these things mouths look like a vampires. They clack their teeth together to warn you as you approach of just what lurks inside those angry jaws. When cornered they will readily attack and that is exactly our plan. Use the dogs to find them, nose to the ground, then surround them and stop them. That’s when you come storming in like some kind of bumbling super hero and try to poke him in the heart lungs area, all the while he jumps and spins and gnashes his angry teeth at you, trying to put your hand or leg in that garburator of a mouth he’s got.

These things are far faster than the boars and after seeing one of the guides’ arms and what a peccary inflicted on it, I had my concerns. Another unusual thing about these porcupine like creatures is their hair. Its incredibly course, and really long. As you approach them the hair stands up on end like some kind of rock star at the beginning of a concert. The hair stands on end maybe 8 inches. Then if that isn’t scary enough they emit this scent out of a gland on their back which smells pretty much like a dead goat.

Unlike the hogs, which are speared horizontally, these things you try to pin down to the ground so they don’t escape. They are just too fast and if you let them go with a bad poke, they can run far, and may never be found again. The other good/bad thing about them is that the biggest male, the boss, is who you’re up against. As the herd scatters, the boss stays to fight and defend their territory. Game on. So, like a good soldier I went into the bush after him. Sure enough, he gnashed his teeth quickly and puffed up like a porcupine fish! He looked the opposite way at one of the dogs and I took my opportunity sinking the spear down deep into his heart.

That night it was peccary ribs for dinner as Stewart also skewered another nice plump one. Surprisingly they tasted very similar to pork, with no weird goaty, or gamey flavor. I would really recommend trying for a javelina if you ever can. It was a pretty incredible hunt.

Now being back in Canada for a couple of weeks I sit and think of the hunt that took place. It was definitely once in a life time, that being said, I think I would go back next year and do it all over if I could. Argentina is a beautiful country and South America is just so much different than the Mexico I expected to see. I would highly recommend Annuritay Ranch as a place to hunt. Everything about the trip was great from beginning to end. I do hope to go back next winter for dove hunting and beaches, heck, I might even be in the mood to stab something. Thanks for reading, sorry for the long windedness, but I told things as they happened day to day, to try to take you along with me.

This qualifies as an epic post. Well done, sir. Thanks for sharing the adventure.