Story written by David Luxford, A Story of 2 boars (32 Years apart)

14.09.2023

In 1992, I hunted Toomba Station in North Queensland on invitation from Bill Baker, my friend and bowhunting legend of the time. This era was in fact the dreamtime of Toomba Station. Pacific Bowhunting Safaris hadn’t even been thought of or even considered. It was the “good old days” of bowhunting; no sights or release aids; no range finders and certainly no GPS; a compass was as good as it got.

These were the very early days of my bowhunting career. I was thirty-seven years of age. Before the trip to Toomba I had never shot a pig with my bow. So my apprenticeship was to be in the basalt with Bill, in an environment that was so foreign to me. My pig adventure started off well; two pigs with the one shot.

Over the proceeding days I shot another eight pigs, watched Bill demonstrate his craft with the bow and was in awe of his ability to navigate in and out of the unforgiving endless maize of basalt and swamps.

One afternoon we packed into the back blocks. It was hot, 46 degrees. We took refuge from the heat under a large fig tree beside a green-murky pond and waited for the witching hour; the time gap between when the afternoon shadows are stretched long and sunset.

We ventured out, crested a rise in the basalt overlooking a long lagoon and proceeded into the breeze, Bill one side and I the other. At the end of the lagoon a lone boar stood in water unto its belly munching on reeds. Although Bill could have made the stalk he motioned me forward. I made for a fig tree growing on the edge of the lagoon and from its confines came to draw on the boar. The shot was about twenty metres. I drew, held firm and watched the arrow hit directly centre of its chest. The boar lifted his head from the water, chomped a mouth full of reeds, then went for some more. All this time with an arrow protruding from either side of his chest. The boar lifted his head once more unaware of his life threatening injury. Then walked to shore, took a few steps backwards and expired.

The boar’s mouth was graced with a remarkable set of tusks. If scored on the longest they would have measured “high” thirties, as it was he was still an exceptional boar scoring just under thirty three on the shorter side.

Since that time there have been many pig hunts and adventures across Australia and many return trips to Toomba Station. Although always hoping to encounter another exceptional boar I had to wait thirty-one years for the occasion.

In August, 2023, I was on the Cobourg Peninsula in the N.T., not to hunt but working in Nick Joyce’s Banteng Camp. How did I end up there? Well, like many aspects of life and especially hunting it is all a combination of circumstance, where you go and whom you meet on the journey.

In October, 2022, I accompanied my son Michael, on his banteng hunt on Cobourg with Nick and TLF Safaris. Michael was successful in taking a great banteng bull, but he also completed his bowhunting Grand Slam of all species recognised by various bowhunting organisations in Australia and overseas. Which in turn made us the only father and son team to achieve such a goal.

A few months after Michael’s hunt Nick asked if I would return to Banteng Camp and assist with camp duties and attend to client’s trophies. So I returned. We had a couple of hectic weeks of hunting with hunters from across the U.S.A.

After the hunters had all departed Nick asked if I wanted tp go for a re-con to a big swamp; I took my bow, that always accompanies me wherever I travel. As we reached the swamp and were making our way through a glade of vines and paper-barks on a back-water, a boar was noticed on the other side feeding amongst reeds. As we closed the gap between hunted and hunter another boar was noticed asleep under a paper-bark, a quick shot dispatched the sleeping boar that didn’t travel anymore than fifteen metres from his bed, expiring close to the swamp’s edge.

Within a short distance our original quarry fell to another arrow and travelled a similar distance to the first. Two boars, two arrows, five minutes apart. It doesn’t get much better than that.

While I was attending to my boars Nick went to check out a banteng bull shot by a client days earlier. He returned with amazing images of an impressive boar feasting on the dead bull. A week later we were back at the swamp. There were no sign of the two dead boars, they had been taken by crocodiles. We ventured to the bull carcass. All that remained were remnants of the great animal; some dried twisted skin in the middle of a circle of dust. As there are few pigs in the area it is conceivable that the big boar was the only guest at the “Banteng Banquet”.

From there we made our way to a different section of the swamp slowly working our way amongst paper-barks, pandanus, reeds and fallen logs. Inching through what appeared to be an ideal place to find a boar I noticed the back of a big one, not fifteen metres away rooting through soil on the other side of a big log. The situation couldn’t have been better, or so I thought. I elevated myself so I could take a clear shot over the log; came to draw, but something was horribly wrong. My arrow was pointing down and half my lift-up rest was missing. What! What!. l Iet down my bow, assessed the situation:- Not good. I came to draw again trying to substitute my finger as the missing half of the rest, but the knock came off the string:- No!. Once more I assessed the situation, came to draw with the bow cantered, used my finger as the rest but in the process of drawing the arrow and trying to adjust it into position slid the Viper trick over my finger:-Not good! Then with all the awkwardness of packing and elephant in to a postage tube, cantered the bow, tried to look through the peep, release-aid and such, I took the shot, impact!

The boar slowly left the swamp walking past me at less than twenty metres. Gushing blood on his lower chest indicated a good shot, then he lay down, all good. No! It was just the beginning of a rather frustrating and tedious affair with the boar. Experience teachers when another arrow is required to finish the deed. With fading light and the complications of simply drawing the arrow I eventually got another shot away but not after several attempts. The fact that the boar had got to his feet during all this didn’t help the stress. The second shot was centre of the chest but a bit far back. To cut a stressful story short, I followed the boar in fading light. Then called the pursuit off. The next morning we found the boar fifty metres from where we made the call the previous night.

The old boar was impressive, big bodied with a great mouthful of tusks. To sit with Nick and admire this boar was indeed a moment to cherish. A great result under extenuating acute equipment malfunction. As we walked back I was carrying the jaw. Then it dawned on me that very few boars have a tusk that can be used as a carry handle. The tusks were not even, just like the 1992 boar, and this one, if scored off the large tusk would have scored a bit over thirty three; what and impressive boar and more than memorable hunt.