Australia: Russian Boars Connection

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...