The day started in my happy place. A frosty winter morning, my mates Jack Bird and Trent Flay had come out for a weekend morning hunt, and I had Kohi and Moon in the trailer ready for an adventure. Moon was Kohi's sister but had only recently come back to us as a three year old, so was still assimilating in to our pack of dogs. I was looking forward to a relaxed hunt with just the two adult dogs, no pups doing stupid things, the weather was beautiful and I'd just found fresh sign.
Walking along the boundary fence between the grass and the public land behind there was some fresh rooting in the rich Waikato soil. It wasn't super fresh, certainly not still steaming, but it was likely no older than the previous evening.
I looked at the surrounding topography, consulted my hard-earned mental catalogue of pig activity in the area, and headed out a ridge I thought it likely the boar had travelled back to. Imagine my smug smile when the dogs ripped on ahead, clearly tracking the boar's scent.
The three of us walked steadily behind, trying to keep the gap manageable if the dogsKohi's barks rang out, the master had stuck with it long enough and found the boar in his nest. Moon wasn't too far off and looking at the GPS I could see she had heard it and was on her way. I upped the pace and we sprinted through the native, but things had gone strangely quiet when we next stopped for air.
