You never know in life, what opening a new door may lead to. Several years ago my brother sold some Steyr rifle magazines to a man in Australia, named Miles. A few months later, he asked my brother if he knew of a good source for older Steyr rifle parts. He told him that I’d visited the Steyr Mannlicher factory in Austria several times, and knew a lot of people there. An e-mail from Miles to me, asking for my assistance, in obtaining a huge list of parts for his very old Steyr rifles, resulted in him placing and receiving, all that he needed direct from the factory. Instantly I became his hero. First we e-mailed back and forth for about 9 months, and then started conversing by phone. He was an avid Steyr collector, and especially liked to have the ones that no one else has. This eventually led to Miles purchasing two of my very unusual Steyrs. Normally he has them sent to an exporter, who then does the paperwork to get them to Australia, so that would be the plan for these.
He mentioned that he’d booked a January hunt in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, for authentic Russian wild boar. These were not just wild domestic hogs, but the real thing. Originally imported from Poland, the Russian boars went over to Sweden, and then were staged in Amsterdam, prior to arriving in Canada. They have massive heads and skulls, a big hump on their back, thick hides and gristle plates over the shoulders, dense hard bone, huge shoulders and small hindquarters, large barreled chests, and razor sharp tusks. Their hair is thick and coarse, and it’s easy to see why early paint brushes were made from boar hair.
Miles wished he could use these two rifles for the hunt, but of course that wasn’t possible. He’d told me he always likes to do a special hunt, each time he obtains a new rifle, “to break it in properly with good memories,” and who could argue with that? Having purchased the two rifles less than a month before his Michigan hunt, a great idea came to me.
Chapter 1: Surprise Delivery
I’d yet to meet Miles in person, and as I lived in Pennsylvania at the time, thought it would be great to surprise him. I made a plan to bring the rifles up to his hunt so he could use them, before I shipped them to his exporter. About a twelve hour, 800 mile drive… that did not bother me, as much as the time of year, and having to contend with winter storms in Pennsylvania, Ohio or Michigan. I...
waited until the week before, and checked the forecast.
A big storm was blowing through 3 days before, and then it should be clear for at least 4 days, before another storm was possible again. I was willing to risk it, as the look on his face of surprise would be worth it. I called the lodge where he’d be hunting, and told Greg Johnson, the owner of Bear Mountain Lodge As the days ticked by, I kept watching the forecast. It proved to be true, as a pretty good snowstorm came through 3 days before- that would give plenty of time for the roads to be cleared, before I headed up after work.
Chapter 2: The Drive Begins
I had to work the day before Miles arrived in Michigan, so with a twelve hour drive ahead of me, assuming clear roads, I left just after dinner. My trip through western Pennsylvania, and Ohio revealed the aftermath of a heavy storm the whole way- piles of deep snow that had been plowed off the interstates- but the highways themselves, were
actually only wet or even dry in many places.
Finally, at around 2 am in the middle of a remote part of Michigan, I had to pull over to grab some sleep, as I could hardly keep my eyes open anymore. It was only about 15 degrees out when I stopped, so mindful of the wind direction, I left my crew cab truck running with the heater fan on low. I did crack open the passenger-side rear window about a half inch, as I crawled over and laid down across the back seat, with a light blanket on top of me.
Barely two hours later I woke shivering in the dark; seems I’d hit the window down button when I climbed into the back in the darkness. With the temperature now only 10 degrees out, I’d been sleeping the past two hours, with the passenger-side window fully lowered. A bit rested now, and invigorated by the extreme cold, I continued on with my drive, arriving just before noon at the lodge. With Miles arriving on an evening flight, I settled in at the really nice lodge, and caught up on some much needed sleep.
Chapter 3: Bloody Hell, It’s Cold Here
Greg and I went in his truck to pick Miles up at the airport, his flight arriving around 8 pm. As I wanted to surprise him, I sat...
facing away at a table, while the Greg faced the door from where passengers would come into the terminal. My Australian friend had never met me before in person, but we’d exchanged some hunting photos by e-mail, so I sat so he’d not see me, until the time was right to surprise him. About five minutes after his plane landed at the small airport, I see Greg get up to greet Miles, who’d just entered the terminal.
“Bloody hell, it’s cold here!” in an instantly recognizable Australian accent
From behind me, just a few steps away I suddenly hear, “Bloody hell, it’s cold here!” in an instantly recognizable Australian accent.
Without even turning around, I loudly reply back, “You’re not even here for two minutes and you’re already complaining about the weather!” at which time I stand up and turn around.
The look of surprise on Miles’ face was worth the twelve hour drive. And when I told him I brought his two new Steyrs, so he could hunt with them, he was truly happy. Back at the lodge I took great joy in presenting his them to Miles. One was a beautiful full stock 9.3×62 (similar in size and power to the American .35 Whelen) and the other a Steyr Big Bore bolt action rifle in the belted .450 Marlin cartridge (which is a modern version of the .45-70). Both rifles had already been sighted in by me, and I’d also brought along a supply of ammunition for each one.
That evening it was very fun to talk in person, to someone I’d befriended over a year and a half ago, but never met. That night it was forecasted to be in the single digits; we’d be looking at only the low teens the next morning, with more fresh snow to be falling throughout the day. There was already well over a foot of snow from the storm the week before. Though I was ready for more snow to fall, I wondered how Miles from Sidney, Australia, would handle it?
Chapter 4: Primeval Forest
In the morning we awoke to a beautiful scene. Fresh powdery snow was falling, through a bright blue sunny sky, on top of the over one-foot of powder already on the ground. Everything sparkled in the sunshine, as did the air, as a light snow fell throughout the morning. The area was only a 15 minute drive from the shores of Lake Superior, thereby always subject to the “lake effect” with its increased snowfall throughout the...
winter.
Each branch on the leafless trees had an accumulation of snow on it, from the snow that began the night before. At such low temperatures, the snow is very light and powdery, not wet and heavy. Looking out, we could see the sharp contrast of the pure white against the tall trunks of the broadleaf trees, and accumulations weighing down the pines as well. Throughout the entire first day, we experienced a constant fall, of light powdery snow. It truly seemed like we were hunting Russian boars in a primeval forest of Siberia that day; one could not ask for more appropriate conditions, to break in a new rifle!
they would parallel me lower down, while I would go high and zig-zag my way across the top
During the morning I stayed with the guide Bill, and Miles, and though we saw several dark brown to black boars, very clearly against the white show, they were always on the move heading away. The area was very hilly, and the tree density was extremely high in most areas, so in no time they would be out of sight. During lunch, I suggested I be used to perhaps drive the boars towards Miles and Bill; both thought that might very well work. With temperatures in the low teens, it also gave me the chance to keep warmer, than the slow pace of the morning.
Heading out after lunch, Bill described the general layout of the land, where the hills and lowland areas were. We made a plan, that they would parallel me lower down, while I would go high and zig-zag my way across the top, making a fair bit of noise. That would keep the boars looking back, focused more on me, than what might await them down below.
So off I go headed uphill, in snow up to my knees, leaving Miles and Bill further down in the lower areas, but keeping slightly in front of me, to better their chances of intersecting boars, I might kick their way. Traveling in the deep snow was very challenging, and I almost immediately started to overheat. Within ten minutes I’d unwrapped the scarf around my neck; in fifteen it was off completely. Ten minutes later, my wool hunting coat was unbuttoned, and after that my wool mittens came off for good. Finally, I had to alternate with taking my wool hat off and putting it back on, to keep from sweating too much. Keep in mind, that it was only about 14 degrees out, while I was doing all of this body temperature regulation.
Boy, was that ever...
a workout! Having to constantly high-lift my legs with each step, only to have them sink deep down beneath me, with each advancing step. And being in a forest, as I advanced, I’d often catch the toe of my boot on a covered fallen branch, when I’d raise my buried leg to take a step, only to find myself pitching forward, face-first into the powder. Yes, I was having great fun, but never had hunting in the snow been so difficult.
The large boar Miles shot, was near the rear of the pack, and one 250 grain Barnes TSX from his 9.3×62 took him through the right shoulder, as he was running left to right
After about an hour of this, from up ahead I heard a shot; but it came from ahead of me, not from down below. So I kick things into high gear, and start humping as fast as I can towards the shot. I arrive in just a few minutes, to see Miles kneeling next to a huge Russian boar, easily around a 300 lb. beast. I’ve hunted wild pigs in the US before, and Russian boar also in Europe; so there was no mistaking the European lineage of this fine old boar. He was vastly different looking than feral, domestic hogs, having a very primal look about him. The abundant hair was extremely thick and coarse, mostly black and dark brown, with also quite a bit of grey.
Miles and Bill had been ahead of me, and slightly lower in elevation, when a group of a dozen or more, perhaps kicked up by me, ran up a small draw. The large boar Miles shot, was near the rear of the pack, and one 250 grain Barnes TSX from his 9.3×62 took him through the right shoulder, as he was running left to right. The boar crumpled in the deep snow at the shot, with the bullet exiting the far side. My friend was very happy with the rifle and the load, and very pleased to christen his new full stock Mannlicher, in such spectacular fashion.
Bill went back and got the pickup, while Miles and I dragged the trophy down the hill, a fairly easy task in the snow. After the evening meal, it was nice to be able to talk to Miles in person, and get to know him on a more personal level. The weather forecast for the next day was pretty much the same, but with less chance for snow. Living barely three blocks from the ocean in Sydney, I was amazed at how well Miles tolerated the snow, but it was obvious that he researched things ahead of time, and had all the right
clothing to wear. I came to learn that he’s...
always prepared, wherever he goes hunting.
Chapter 5: Second Day, Second Boar
After the first morning, it was obvious that the three of us walking together, was not the way to hunt, as the boars would then, always keep just ahead of us. While it was very hard to head out and up above Miles and Bill, then circle my way back down towards them in the deep snow, it was a very effective way to hunt in those conditions.
While the snowing had stopped the night before, it was interesting to see on day two, how ice crystals seemed to precipitate out of the sky, and gently flutter down. With the bright sunshine, the entire sky sparkled as though glitter had been tossed from a plane above. It was the second most beautiful day I’d ever spent hunting, the day before, being the first.
So the three of us walk back into the forest for a while, and then stop to discuss our plans for the morning. I stand there like a bird dog, waiting for the “where’s the bird” command and hand signal, releasing me to track and kick up our quarry. Basically, we spent the morning in several unsuccessful attempts to kick up some boars. Miles and Bill would take hold down below, while I’d tear up the hills in the deep snow, then zig-zag my way slowly down, hoping to drive game towards my waiting friends.
While there were plenty of boars, they always seemed to break off too soon, or take a hard left or right away from me, never even getting close, to down where the guys were sitting in ambush. It was just as cold, and the snow was just as deep as the day before, but I was having the time of my life running up and down the hills in the deep snow, feeling like I was really contributing to the success of the hunt.
With over a foot of fresh powder on the ground, it’s easy to move up on them without making a sound
Finally by lunchtime, we head back to the warm, comfortable lodge for a meal. Having spent the morning sweating in the snow, I peel off almost all my clothes to keep from overheating indoors. The lodge was a first-rate place, and Greg even had in-floor heating in the slab downstairs. This was where all...
the guests got dressed before going outside, and where all the snow covered boots and clothes came off, when coming in from a hunt. We discuss things with Bill, for the plans after lunch, and decide to try the far west part of the property. There I’ll go up high and work my way, down towards Miles and Bill, who’ll be staked out in the lowlands.
We leave with our stomachs nice and full, and begin walking to the west. There’re lots of places for the guys to hide among fallen trees at the bottom of a bowl. I take off like a loose hound dog, to make a large circling sweep, of the back and top portion of the property. I head to the southwest corner, then zig-zag across below the west fence line, heading north. I see plenty of tracks during my drive, but no boars at all.
Hitting the northwest corner, I turn east and start to slowly descend. In a short distance, I drop down into a little dip and heading east out of it, hear some grunts and squeals from up ahead. Bending down low, I slowly creep up the far side, staying behind big trees the entire way.
With over a foot of fresh powder on the ground, it’s easy to move up on them without making a sound. Since the snow fell, the temps have always been very low, so no crust has had a chance to form. Finally, I’m seen or scented by the Russians. They squeal loudly, and go tearing down the hill towards Miles. There has to be well over a dozen in the group.
As I get up to where they took off from, I clearly see where they’d been bedded down for the night. I start to follow their tracks downhill, which is very easy to do, and hear a shot from below, moments later. Hustling down through the deep snow as fast as I could, there stands Miles and Bill, over another boar that would go at least 250 lbs.
The next morning, Miles insisted that I come to Australia as his guest, and he would show me a great time down under
I can’t remember ever having so much fun on a hunt, and I didn’t even fire a shot. After you’ve taken a number of animals, I’ve found that I get just as much fun out of seeing others succeed, as I do harvesting animals myself. Note that Miles was so appreciative of me bringing his new rifles to the hunt, that on the first day he offered to pay for me to take a management boar. Having taken almost a dozen Russian wild boars just a few years earlier in Austria, I...
thankfully declined, as this was to be his hunt, and I wanted to focus on his success.
The next morning, Miles insisted that I come to Australia as his guest, and he would show me a great time down under. A man of his word, the things I got to experience in Australia, are the topic of another really fantastic story.