My late season javelina adventure started by being the winning bidder of a hunt donated for a charity auction by Rob Kiebler of Fairchase, LTD. I had hunted successfully with Rob a year earlier and knew that he not only had some outstanding ranch leases, but that he was also a primo host and extremely entertaining guide. I mean, where else can you find a guy who gets his kicks by catching and playing with rattlesnakes, orchestrating endless practical jokes, and generally approaching life like it is one big, festive ride? Needless to say, I was not short on enthusiasm when I scheduled two days in late February to fly down to south Texas, team up with Rob, and chase one of the most unique animals of the southwest: the collared peccary or more commonly known as the javelina.

I arrived in historic San Antonio, Texas on a Friday night and rented a car to travel the two and a half-hours south to the tiny town of El Indio. There, Rob met me at the post office and I followed him to the 17,500 acre ranch bordering the Rio Grande River that would be my hunting grounds for the next two days. By the time I settled into the cabin and unpacked my gear it was almost midnight. Time for bed and a few hours of sleep before the next day’s hunt.

They say that the best things in life are free and I can attest that after a short night, the aroma of fresh brewed coffee is one of those experiences that is seldom equaled by things that have much more substantial price tags. It’s just hard to beat that first sip of joe on the morning of a hunt, especially when tempered with a teaspoon of whipping cream and shared with friends under a warm pre-dawn sky.

Rob dropped me off at 6:30 a.m. at a 12-foot tripod stand for my first morning of hunting. Waiting for shooting light I watched the sky begin to awaken in streaks of orange and pink. The breeze was faint and gentle, warm as a baby’s yawn and almost as subtle as muted white light began to fill the morning. I visually checked my bow and the arrow I had already nocked to make sure that I would be ready to shoot if given the opportunity. All was well.

The first animal I saw came from the east. She was a black hog, a feral sow that circled my stand nervously, constantly testing the drifting currents of wind, not sure she wanted to commit to come into the feeding area. I watched her for some ten minutes before catching additional movement in the eastern sendaro. I shifted my eyes to the left and there, heading in my direction was a band of 12 javelina. They were closing quickly and as automatic as clockwork, I felt my fingers tighten on the bowstring in anticipation of a potential shot opportunity.

In seconds, I was surrounded by javelina of every size. And they were close; anywhere from 10 to 18 yards. However, there was one problem, they were a squirming, moving mass that would simply not stand still for a shot. It was obvious that this might take some extra time.

As I watched the group feed and waited patiently for a standing, broadside shot on one of the larger members, I listened to the west as a band of coyotes began to howl. Interestingly, the mature javelina took note, bristling their hair and lifting their snouts into the air to test for the scent of the canine-like predators. It was obvious that they were endeavoring to confirm the intent of their nemesis to advance, but finally calmed down as the song dogs silenced, mistakenly believing they were safe. Little did they know, a mere 12 feet above them, another predator was lurking and ready to strike.

At 14 yards one of the javelina finally stopped slightly quartering toward me. I drew my 56" Morrison TD recurve, focused on a spot, and released a 500 grain carbon arrow. As the arrow hit its mark, the javelina spun around and ran, collapsing in a heap only 25 yards away from where I had shot. I was exhilarated! Though I had killed javelina before, this was my first with a stickbow so I was anxious to have this particular animal mounted and memorialized as something special, for indeed it was.

Quiet moments passed and then I saw that about half of the original band of 12javelina were beginning to reassemble. Before long, they were once again in front of my stand, feeding aggressively and moving about. Given that Texas allows two javelina per license holder per year, I decided that if given a good opportunity, I would try to fill my final tag. After watching for what seemed to be an eternity, I saw a mature animal at 16 yards turn broadside. I lifted my bow and for the second time that morning released an arrow. The shot zipped quickly through its target, but appeared to be a bit far back. The javelina stood there for a moment, fell over, got up, and then slowly began to walk into the brush. I watched it bed down within 30 yards of where I had shot and felt confident that if not pushed, it would be easily recovered.

Rob had left me with a two-way radio and after about 40 minutes I called him to come and provide some tracking assistance. By the time he arrived, the wounded javelina had gotten up and wandered further into the trees and undergrowth. Although we quickly found an excellent blood trail, we decided to give it some time and come back to recover the animal later in the morning.

We loaded up the first javelina and headed to camp to take pictures and have breakfast. Knowing that the shot was farther back than optimal, we decided that we would give the animal a couple of hours before taking up the trail through the thick south Texas brush in the hopes that our tracking time would be relatively short.

A few hours later found us picking our way along the arid soil and prickly pear in pursuit of the wounded javelina. The blood trail was steady, varying in size from near puddles to scattered droplets as we crouched under the low hanging limbs of the dense thicket. I wish I could report that we recovered this animal, but unfortunately, we abandoned the search after losing the blood trail and being unable to find it again. We made wide circles of the area, trying to see beneath the dense underbrush for some sign to follow, but even after a lengthy search, it was not to be.

Losing an animal is always a great disappointment. Still, in the world of hunting it occasionally does happen. Ethics requires a diligent search, a good faith effort to find and recover every animal that is shot. When such recovery efforts fail, it is no less discouraging, but a hunter can take heart in the fact that if every reasonable resource was deployed, the ethic of the hunt was upheld regardless of the outcome of the search.

Saturday evening found me in a different stand. The wind was from the south and blowing steadily. Activity was slow until almost dark when I saw countless whitetailed deer retreat from the brush and begin to pour into a food plot to the west. It was interesting to note that the bucks still had antlers. This was a surprise since I had bowhunted deer in west Texas in late December only to discover many bucks already shedding their antlers.

Rob picked me up at dark and we returned to camp and a dinner of the finest fajitas and enchiladas ever to tempt my tastebuds. The food was simply outstanding, accompanied by freshly prepared beans, salsas, tortillas, and guacamole; it was nothing short of passion to the palette. Food that fresh and flavorful is a stark contrast to what passes for Mexican cuisine in most American restaurants and is probably worth a trip to the border even without the fantastic hunting. One word of caution, however. Make sure you bring loose fitting clothes. This cuisine is no more for the faint of heart than for the fanatic of physique. One thing is for sure though, it is worth every calorie!

Sunday was a day of numerous activities. There was more hunting, some outstanding catch and release bass fishing, and a tour of some of the ranch’s spectacular views of the Rio Grande and the land of Mexico just on the other side. One of the most interesting things I had the opportunity to see was a soldier’s name dated in the 1800’s that was carefully carved into a sandstone bluff overlooking the Rio Grand where he was stationed to watch for Mexican invaders during the bandit days of the infamous Pancho Villa. It was a reminder of the history of the old West and of the rich traditions and influences that are so closely interwoven into the fabric of south Texas. As I touched the carefully carved script writing I felt strangely connected to the spirit of this place, to all its antiquities and treasures, and to the people who defended it and traversed its soil in the hundreds of years before I was born.

My final hunting day with Fairchase, LTD was filled with wildlife. There were countless hogs, javelina, turkeys, and deer not to mention birds of every kind, including vibrant green jays, cardinals, hawks, and doves to name a few. Although I did not fill my second javelina tag, I count my experience as one of the fullest of my hunting life. Not only did I kill a fine mature animal for my trophy room, but also I had the opportunity to see, feel, and appreciate the heritage of true Texas. Not only was it a two-day adventure that filled every sense and every appetite I could have ever imagined, it really was the whole enchilada!