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<blockquote data-quote="Tim Behle" data-source="post: 40615" data-attributes="member: 523"><p>I've spent the last few weeks getting ready for the opening of Javalina season here in SE Arizona. My goal this year was to take one at long range. I spent time working up a load, working out and verifying a drop chart, and scouting various locations to shoot from. The rifle of Choice was a 300 Tomahawk with JLK 210 bullets. The brass was carefully prepped and the load carefully worked up. Only to have a storm front move in opening morning and giving me two days of 25 MPH winds with gusts of over 40. Nothing wanted to step out into the open, myself included. So instead of carrying a 15 pound rifle with 34" of barrel though the brush and trying to be able to see anything though an 8.5 power scope, I took my favorite standby rifle. It's a Winchester Model 70 Classic in 7 mm Remington Magnum. I've had it for a couple of years now and the more I shoot it, the more I love it. I've tried nearly every major brand of bullets in it, and several customs, but I keep coming back to the 162 grain Hornady Amax. It's a wonderfully accurate little bullet, with the only drawback of being extremely rough on what ever it hits.</p><p>Opening morning, I had planned on checking out several irrigated hay fields here in the Valley. Most mornings here lately, the Javalina have been out in groups in these fields from first light until nearly noon. Going into the brush for a short siesta, and then returning to the fields about an hour before sunset. Not this morning. The two groups I had been watching, one of four and the other of seven, were no where to be found. So I headed south, looking at some more fields. But all of the fields in my area were empty. I finally decided to head to another area. Something with a little more brush to help break the wind. I spent the rest of the day walking into various areas, climbing hills and windmills, glassing everything that I could. The only thing I found walking on four legs was a single coyote, and a few hundred cattle. I met up with eight soon to be new residents of Detroit, while driving down the Border road between hunting areas. They were still on the South side of the fence, but we stopped and talked for a while. One of them had an Uncle in Detroit who had promised them work. One had bothered to learn fairly good English before starting his Northern trek. I rewarded him for his efforts with a bottle of beer that had been rolling around under the seat of my jeep for the last couple of weeks. Now there is one less rattle in the jeep for me to worry about. The rest of the afternoon went pretty uneventful. I made a big circle, coming past the fields I had started in just before dark. I looked it over to see a group of four on the back side of the field. I did a quick U-turn and parked. Glancing at my watch, I saw I only had about 15 minutes of shooting light left. I hopped the fence about 200 yards North of the field and tried to make my way quickly though the thick mesquite. These irrigate fields are almost 900 yards across, I wanted to be inside of 400 to make my shot with the winds still up. I walked parallel to the field's edge until I was due north of them, and then snuck down to the fence. Peering though the brush, I found I was too late. The Javalina were gone. I didn't know if they had left on their own, or had heard me catching on a few thousand thorns on my way to them. I sat there and looked for several minutes, as the light faded away. I finally got up and turned back towards the jeep, taking only a couple of steps before spooking one just a few feet away. They had gone into the brush about 20 yards and were passing behind me as I was watching the field. There was no chance of getting off a shot in the last seconds of light, so I made my way towards home and supper.</p><p>The next morning at first light, I was back again. Sitting in the brush at the edge of the field. By nine, I still hadn't seen a thing. So I got up and made a large 2-3 mile circle though the broken mesquite and pale grass. Hoping to find a group out somewhere, but my luck wasn't holding out. Getting back to the jeep, I went north to some more fields. I spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon glassing the fields and water tanks with out seeing much more than jack rabbits. I had pretty much walked myself out by this point and headed for home for a late lunch. A full belly and a comfortable chair was just temptation than my body could stand. I couldn't resist the idea of a short nap.</p><p>A lot of guys back east seem to be jealous of our large tracts of open public land we have here in Arizona to hunt on, and I have to admit it is pretty nice. But one of the down falls of public land is that it is first come first served. You can spend weeks scouting the habits of a particular animal and know all there is to know about him and his habits. But if on opening morning, you happen to be the second hunter to the place you planed to hunt, you'd better have someplace else in mind for a back up. My nap cost me my hunting spot I had planned. When I returned that afternoon, I was just in time to see two 4 door pick ups pulling into my spot and five hunters getting out. I went another half a mile up the road and watched as they lined up and formed a drive though the area. So much for sneaking up on them! I spent the evening scouting out a couple of other fields and headed for home.</p><p>At first light, I was back the next morning. Too soon actually. With the binoculars, I thought I could make out some dark shapes on the far side of the second field, but it still wasn't light enough to tell for sure. So I decided to drive up to another field a couple of miles up the road and look there. Seeing nothing there I returned to find one of the trucks from the night before parked and three hunters getting out. I stopped for a quick visit. It seems they had spooked an unknown number out in tight brush, but in the confusion of everything running around in the thick brush the night before, no one had managed to kill anything. Their friends had parked at the other end of the fields a couple of miles away and they planned on driving from both ends and meeting in the middle. Having never been much a sociable type hunter, I declined their invitation to help drive and headed back south towards the border. </p><p>I spent the next hour sitting on top of a windmill glassing some prime Javalina country. I had a good view for a mile or more in all directions. But I never saw anything but a couple of scraggly looking longhorns trying to eat a living out of nothing but mesquite and cactus. I climbed back down and made my way east down the border road. Stopping every couple of miles to glass any open spots I could find. The Border Patrol has had the Army Engineers out the last couple of years making an elevated road along the border. It's nice for getting above the brush and giving a view to glass from. But in typical Government fashion, the highest "bridge" over some large culverts, is about a mile west of the wash it is needed at. But from a top this bridge, I stopped to glass again.</p><p>From there, about a half a mile further up, I found a group of five Javalina hanging out under a lone shade tree on the edge of a huge bamboo thicket. I parked my jeep at the base of the bridge and began my stalk though the four foot tall clumps of Sacaton grass in their direction. Javalina are nearly blind, but they make up for it with an excellent olfactory system. It doesn't take much of a scent to send them running, and if they ran north into the bamboo, I'd never find them. If they ran south 100 yards, they could cross the fence into Mexico where I couldn't shoot them. For once during the last three days of hunting, the wind died down and I only had a slight cross breeze to contend with. I made my way though the brush and soon got them in sight again. They had gotten up and were beginning to mill around. The largest one was out on the left, away from the group, but she was making her way towards the bamboo, quartering away from me. I wrapped myself into my sling as I dropped to one knee and braced my hip against a large clump of grass. I made a quick estimate of range and held just an inch high, right behind her rib cage. I couldn't see the impact due to the recoil, but I heard the bullet hit home, and had the scope back on her in time to see her just tip over. To my surprise, none of the others made a move to run. One of the younger ones made its way over to her and gave her a sniff, then though a terrorized fit as she blew past the others into the thicket. In seconds, four little rooster tails of dust were all that remained. </p><p>In typical Amax fashion, the bullet was a little rough on flesh. It entered just behind the ribs and took out the entire breast, breaking both front legs on exit. The wound stretched from her sternum to her chin. I hope that wasn't where I was to find the best meat on her, as it left little. </p><p>I just finished up fleshing and salting the hide. She still had 53 pounds of weight when I got her home. I gave up the argument with the wife. I've always thought Javalina made great looking head mounts. Instead I'm just going to have this one tanned and made into a wall hanging. Maybe next year I'll take another one and have a mount made.</p><p>I'd love to post some pictures, but the digital camera seems to have destroyed the disk while I was skinning. I'll have to wait until I get the film developed from the other camera.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Tim Behle, post: 40615, member: 523"] I’ve spent the last few weeks getting ready for the opening of Javalina season here in SE Arizona. My goal this year was to take one at long range. I spent time working up a load, working out and verifying a drop chart, and scouting various locations to shoot from. The rifle of Choice was a 300 Tomahawk with JLK 210 bullets. The brass was carefully prepped and the load carefully worked up. Only to have a storm front move in opening morning and giving me two days of 25 MPH winds with gusts of over 40. Nothing wanted to step out into the open, myself included. So instead of carrying a 15 pound rifle with 34” of barrel though the brush and trying to be able to see anything though an 8.5 power scope, I took my favorite standby rifle. It’s a Winchester Model 70 Classic in 7 mm Remington Magnum. I’ve had it for a couple of years now and the more I shoot it, the more I love it. I’ve tried nearly every major brand of bullets in it, and several customs, but I keep coming back to the 162 grain Hornady Amax. It’s a wonderfully accurate little bullet, with the only drawback of being extremely rough on what ever it hits. Opening morning, I had planned on checking out several irrigated hay fields here in the Valley. Most mornings here lately, the Javalina have been out in groups in these fields from first light until nearly noon. Going into the brush for a short siesta, and then returning to the fields about an hour before sunset. Not this morning. The two groups I had been watching, one of four and the other of seven, were no where to be found. So I headed south, looking at some more fields. But all of the fields in my area were empty. I finally decided to head to another area. Something with a little more brush to help break the wind. I spent the rest of the day walking into various areas, climbing hills and windmills, glassing everything that I could. The only thing I found walking on four legs was a single coyote, and a few hundred cattle. I met up with eight soon to be new residents of Detroit, while driving down the Border road between hunting areas. They were still on the South side of the fence, but we stopped and talked for a while. One of them had an Uncle in Detroit who had promised them work. One had bothered to learn fairly good English before starting his Northern trek. I rewarded him for his efforts with a bottle of beer that had been rolling around under the seat of my jeep for the last couple of weeks. Now there is one less rattle in the jeep for me to worry about. The rest of the afternoon went pretty uneventful. I made a big circle, coming past the fields I had started in just before dark. I looked it over to see a group of four on the back side of the field. I did a quick U-turn and parked. Glancing at my watch, I saw I only had about 15 minutes of shooting light left. I hopped the fence about 200 yards North of the field and tried to make my way quickly though the thick mesquite. These irrigate fields are almost 900 yards across, I wanted to be inside of 400 to make my shot with the winds still up. I walked parallel to the field’s edge until I was due north of them, and then snuck down to the fence. Peering though the brush, I found I was too late. The Javalina were gone. I didn’t know if they had left on their own, or had heard me catching on a few thousand thorns on my way to them. I sat there and looked for several minutes, as the light faded away. I finally got up and turned back towards the jeep, taking only a couple of steps before spooking one just a few feet away. They had gone into the brush about 20 yards and were passing behind me as I was watching the field. There was no chance of getting off a shot in the last seconds of light, so I made my way towards home and supper. The next morning at first light, I was back again. Sitting in the brush at the edge of the field. By nine, I still hadn’t seen a thing. So I got up and made a large 2-3 mile circle though the broken mesquite and pale grass. Hoping to find a group out somewhere, but my luck wasn’t holding out. Getting back to the jeep, I went north to some more fields. I spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon glassing the fields and water tanks with out seeing much more than jack rabbits. I had pretty much walked myself out by this point and headed for home for a late lunch. A full belly and a comfortable chair was just temptation than my body could stand. I couldn’t resist the idea of a short nap. A lot of guys back east seem to be jealous of our large tracts of open public land we have here in Arizona to hunt on, and I have to admit it is pretty nice. But one of the down falls of public land is that it is first come first served. You can spend weeks scouting the habits of a particular animal and know all there is to know about him and his habits. But if on opening morning, you happen to be the second hunter to the place you planed to hunt, you’d better have someplace else in mind for a back up. My nap cost me my hunting spot I had planned. When I returned that afternoon, I was just in time to see two 4 door pick ups pulling into my spot and five hunters getting out. I went another half a mile up the road and watched as they lined up and formed a drive though the area. So much for sneaking up on them! I spent the evening scouting out a couple of other fields and headed for home. At first light, I was back the next morning. Too soon actually. With the binoculars, I thought I could make out some dark shapes on the far side of the second field, but it still wasn’t light enough to tell for sure. So I decided to drive up to another field a couple of miles up the road and look there. Seeing nothing there I returned to find one of the trucks from the night before parked and three hunters getting out. I stopped for a quick visit. It seems they had spooked an unknown number out in tight brush, but in the confusion of everything running around in the thick brush the night before, no one had managed to kill anything. Their friends had parked at the other end of the fields a couple of miles away and they planned on driving from both ends and meeting in the middle. Having never been much a sociable type hunter, I declined their invitation to help drive and headed back south towards the border. I spent the next hour sitting on top of a windmill glassing some prime Javalina country. I had a good view for a mile or more in all directions. But I never saw anything but a couple of scraggly looking longhorns trying to eat a living out of nothing but mesquite and cactus. I climbed back down and made my way east down the border road. Stopping every couple of miles to glass any open spots I could find. The Border Patrol has had the Army Engineers out the last couple of years making an elevated road along the border. It’s nice for getting above the brush and giving a view to glass from. But in typical Government fashion, the highest “bridge” over some large culverts, is about a mile west of the wash it is needed at. But from a top this bridge, I stopped to glass again. From there, about a half a mile further up, I found a group of five Javalina hanging out under a lone shade tree on the edge of a huge bamboo thicket. I parked my jeep at the base of the bridge and began my stalk though the four foot tall clumps of Sacaton grass in their direction. Javalina are nearly blind, but they make up for it with an excellent olfactory system. It doesn’t take much of a scent to send them running, and if they ran north into the bamboo, I’d never find them. If they ran south 100 yards, they could cross the fence into Mexico where I couldn’t shoot them. For once during the last three days of hunting, the wind died down and I only had a slight cross breeze to contend with. I made my way though the brush and soon got them in sight again. They had gotten up and were beginning to mill around. The largest one was out on the left, away from the group, but she was making her way towards the bamboo, quartering away from me. I wrapped myself into my sling as I dropped to one knee and braced my hip against a large clump of grass. I made a quick estimate of range and held just an inch high, right behind her rib cage. I couldn’t see the impact due to the recoil, but I heard the bullet hit home, and had the scope back on her in time to see her just tip over. To my surprise, none of the others made a move to run. One of the younger ones made its way over to her and gave her a sniff, then though a terrorized fit as she blew past the others into the thicket. In seconds, four little rooster tails of dust were all that remained. In typical Amax fashion, the bullet was a little rough on flesh. It entered just behind the ribs and took out the entire breast, breaking both front legs on exit. The wound stretched from her sternum to her chin. I hope that wasn’t where I was to find the best meat on her, as it left little. I just finished up fleshing and salting the hide. She still had 53 pounds of weight when I got her home. I gave up the argument with the wife. I’ve always thought Javalina made great looking head mounts. Instead I’m just going to have this one tanned and made into a wall hanging. Maybe next year I’ll take another one and have a mount made. I’d love to post some pictures, but the digital camera seems to have destroyed the disk while I was skinning. I’ll have to wait until I get the film developed from the other camera. [/QUOTE]
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