It was hot. Real hot. But we expected nothing less on Cape York in late October. It was just a prelude of things to come. My nephew Bronson and I had arrived the previous day after a three-day drive from the Gold Coast, and we were super keen to get amongst the action and put a dent in the local pig population.
THIS being the first day, we left the homestead at the crack of dawn and checked out several of the waterholes close to camp, but we saw nothing.
We were confident our luck was about to change as a large swamp loomed up ahead, deep within the confines of a dense paperbark forest. This place held fond memories for us because we’d scored a couple of absolute monster boars here the previous year. The property owner, Richard, approached the swamp in the hunting vehicle very slowly before stopping 250m shy of the water.
Our plan was to stalk in quietly, allowing us the element of surprise if any
