It was a good old four degrees heading out at 5:30am on the property at Oberina, near Surat in Queensland. We drove out in search of any sign of pigs.
My eyes watered as the cool westerly breeze whipped against my face on the back of the ute. My fingers were cold against the steel of the barrel of my trusty 6.5×55 Swede.
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Soon the sun began to rise, bringing warmth as its light touched the fields of gold. Cattle and roos came to life.
We stopped at a timberline. It was time to get the legs moving. After a quick check of the wind direction, we made our way slowly into the timber.
It’s always incredibly peaceful breathing in the fresh morning air. Moving through the early morning bush, the anticipation of what I might stumble across grew.
I was constantly scanning left to right while moving forward. The grass got longer and I managed to find a pad with some pig tracks. I began to follow.
It didn’t take long before my eyes caught slight movement in the distance. Glassing, I could make out the unmistakeable outline of the top of a pig’s head with those ears.
I moved closer and looked again. This time I saw two pigs looking straight in my direction. Instinct took over.
I moved the safety forward, lined up a pig and squeezed the trigger. The crack of the 6.5 echoed through the crisp, cold morning.
Through the scope, I could see the dust rising from the fallen pig, which dropped instantly. Three more pigs were bolting. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get another shot off due to the thick timber.
As the adrenaline subsided, excitement ensued. Another successful walk through a timberline had produced another dropped pig.
— Andrew Collis
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