Wrapping things up

About a month ago, I got a call from Bob to say that my gun had sold, and I could come down for the money he owed me. He paid me in one hundred dollar bills. It felt funny to have that much cash in my wallet, because of the bigness of it, but also knowing it represented the end of something. I stuck it in the bank right away.

Bob told me that the new owner was a game warden, that the gun had "found a good home."

Meanwhile, the pig is still with us. I'm making pulled pork sandwiches tomorrow, and I still have enough shoulder meat for another meal of carnitas. I have sausages and liver left too. In case you're wondering, yes, we do have a freezer.

Another part of the pig has been in the freezer all this time: his pelt. When I came back home from the hunt, I had all the butchering and sausage-making to do, so I just salted and froze the pelt, with the plan that I would figure out what to do about a tanner later.

Later has arrived. Tomorrow, I am driving to a tannery in San Leandro with the frozen pelt. Most wild boar are solid black, but as you see, mine was dappled, so I want to get it tanned with the fur on.

When I wrote earlier that the pig is still with us, and then proceeded to list the meat that I still have, I was only accounting for one aspect of the pig's impact on me. I need also to mention the following:

• Before my hunt, I was eating only fish, and I had problems with borderline anemia. My iron level has returned to normal thanks to eating the meat that the pig gave me, so the pig has changed my physical self as I have taken him in.
• I feel connected to the pig every time I begin preparing a meal that includes some of the pig in it. I remember holding and handling the pig, and the meal becomes an extension of the promise I made to the pig to take care of and responsibility for him. So the pig has changed my spiritual and emotional self as I have taken him in.

The pig changed and is changing me. I will never be the same. I think that, once we have eaten all the meat that the pig gave us, the tanned pelt will be a wonderful reminder of this most generous creature.

Gun for Sale

Today I contacted Bob over at the Old West Gun Room and asked about how to sell my gun. It means the end to my hunting adventure.

I've been thinking about it for a while. At first, I thought I might try to find someone else who shared my perspective on responsible meat-eating and who might also want to go hunting with me. But, meanwhile, I couldn't help thinking about the fractured arguments that my Hunter Education instructors had used to justify hunting. The role of hunting in wildlife conservation, they said, is the "harvest of surplus animals" (my emphasis). In other words, any animal population that is under management can be allowed to increase in order to create a role for hunting.

It made me wonder if the ranchers who rent out their land for pig hunts are encouraging the pigs so that the pig hunters will be attracted to their ranches. They claim to hate the pigs, but have they created a "hunting surplus?" If so, maybe that's the kind of hunt I went on.

People who have heard about my pig hunting ask me whether or when I'm going to go hunting again. As the months have gone by since that November day when I brought down the pig, it's become clearer to me that I don't want to spend any more time with guns or with hunters.

I had a very deep experience with that pig, and actually, it continues to unfold every time we sit down to a meal made with some of the pig's flesh. I don't regret what I did. I know I was mindful and respectful, but I think when this pig is gone, the most respectful thing for me to do is to find an ethical pork farmer and buy a farm-raised pig from her or him.

So, if you know anyone who wants to buy a nice, well-kept rifle, tell them to see Bob.

Giving thanks

When I looked down at the 220 pound boar I had just shot and killed, I was filled with awe and gratitude to this animal that had just given itself over to me. I had brought the pig down with my first shot, one shot directly to his lungs, killing him almost instantly. This is what I had been taught to do and, somehow, although the scene had been chaotic, I managed to do it. I knew it was true, and yet it was hard to believe.

I found instantly that, having killed the boar, I was not afraid of him, or repulsed by him. Instead, I felt somehow close to him. I immediately felt easy about touching his body, which was a good thing, because very soon, I had to help move his body, and then I performed a procedure called "field dressing." This means the removal of the internal organs. It is done in order to cool the body temperature so as to preserve the meat. I had prepared for this, and I had our guide showing me the way.

Even so, cutting through the layers of membranes and then slowly revealing the miraculous beauty of this creature's inner makeup was astonishing. At a certain point, my task was to reach into the chest cavity in order to cut the diaphragm free. I needed to do this with both my arms. It was that kind of experience, and it went on from there.

After the field dressing, the guide and I dragged the body to the 4-wheel drive vehicle, and we drove to the skinning shed. There he and I skinned what I really now started to think of as a carcass. The guide then quartered it. This made it into pieces small enough to get into my cooler.

I came back home that night and the next day started butchering those big pieces into pork chops, tenderloin roasts, ribs, packages of pork shoulder, and so forth. Tomorrow, I'm going to make sausages with the leg meat, because I don't have a smoker to make ham, and wild pigs don't have enough fat to produce the right meat for bacon.

Knowing where this meat came from, where the pig lived and what he ate, informs how I feel about all the meat I have in the freezer now. The pig has changed me.

Thank you pig.

The hunt approaches

I am in the final days before my first hunt. There is certainly the possibility that this will also be my last hunt, because I am open to the possibility that the whole experience of killing a large animal and then gutting and preparing its carcass to be eaten will be more than I want to repeat. This is something I will be discovering.

These last few days are feeling increasingly intense, as I do more physically and mentally demanding practice. The whole thing feels a bit spiritual to me, actually.

• I have a teacher with new and exotic (to me) beliefs.
• Along the way, I have encountered adherents of these beliefs, as well as various splinter groups.
• I will have a special guide for the hunt who is different from my teacher. That is, I am being passed on to a superior expert for the culminating event.
• I have had to pass arduous tests: physical, mental and moral.
• I have made journeys: to pass tests, to engage in learning, and to experience the culminating event.
• If I am successful, I will be working very closely with blood (and guts).
• I will be taking in the flesh of the vanquished.
• I will be wearing special garments that I have prepared with special washing.
• I will wash myself with special care and special materials before the event.
• Knowledge of my own limits will be revealed to me as a result of the event.

From 100 yards away

Not to put too fine a point on it, I expect this is going to affect me in a big way.

My shooting is good enough now to pull down a pig, and I can get into a kneeling, shooting position from walking around in just seconds. I'm as ready as I can be.

I just have a few things left to do, including baking some cookies for my coach and me. Doesn't that sound funny?

Preparations Checklist

Just to give you an idea of all the things involved in preparing for the hunt I am going to undertake on November 8-10, here are the things I've done since I last posted to this blog:

• after the 10-day waiting period, I picked up the rifle that I told you I purchased. 
• I studied for and then passed my hunter's education certificate examination, which enabled me to get...
• my hunting license, along with a pig tag. You have to have a "tag" for every pig you expect to "take."
• I've purchased a whole bunch of things, including:
• a telescopic sight for my rifle
• camouflage clothing (top, bottom, hat, and gloves) designed to make me look like shrubbery
• special "combat" earplugs to protect me from the sounds of the same rifle referred to earlier
• a shoulder pad, to protect me from the impact of that same rifle (noticing a pattern?)
• various cleaning tools to clean, carry, or otherwise treat the rifle under different circumstances
• special laundry soap and personal soap which I'll use to clean all the clothing I'll take on the trip in order to remove all scent. Apparently wild pigs can't see well, but they can smell you from a mile away. Or something like it. So we have to disguise our odors. (This raises the question: why are we trying to look like shrubbery? But, hey, I'm just the student in this enterprise.)
• shooting sticks, which, together, make a bipod support I can use to stabilize myself for shooting from a sitting or kneeling position. This helps a lot, because the rifle weighs 7 pounds, and holding out in front ends up being tiring.
• and, last but not least: ammunition. Bullets. Oh boy. Did you know you can buy bullets on the Internet?
• And then there's all the practicing, and also a rather involved process of working in a new gun and sight.

Phew! So, this is what I've been doing with my spare time. I've been to my coach's Sunol ranch and I've also gone to a new range, the Richmond Rod & Gun Club, which is closer to me than the Chabot range I'd been to before.

It feels like a bit of a sprint, to be honest. I had imagined a slower-paced process. But the opportunity to have my first hunt be one I take with my coach has meant going along with her schedule, and so I accept it. An interesting by product is that my locavore Thanksgiving might feature some wild boar this year.

A big day

I'm appreciating this time out from the rigor of a weekly blogging routine, but I want to sit down and write a few notes about what I just did.

I bought a rifle! The Ruger Hawkeye International. I can't have it until October 5th at 2:00 something in the afternoon, after the 10-day waiting period, but it is mine.

Here's why I bought it: I am too small to borrow any of my coach's guns. It turns out that rifles are very size-specific. It matters how much distance there is between your shoulder and your hand, and also how much distance there is between your thumb and your index finger. My distances are that much smaller than the average man's that I am essentially off the chart for many rifles.

I had to look at a smaller rifle, like this one. My coach is the one who originally found this gun and thought it would suit me, but I had to try out a bunch of other guns first before I could tell what it was I was even looking at. Now I know the difference. With the bigger guns, I can't see out of the scope--the eye piece you look through to find the target. Also, I can't reach the trigger in the way required to press it properly.

Facing this size issue is amazing for me. I have rarely felt this small, and also, I have rarely had such a clear need to state the facts of my condition: "I can't see!" It doesn't do me any good to try to "please" my coach by trying to see (although I'm such an inveterate pleaser, I admit I have done some of that.)

So, this afternoon, I went down to the Old West Gun Room, where I'm becoming increasingly comfortable. Today, it was me and a couple of old guys. Nobody is ever in any kind of hurry down there, and they're all telling stories of their latest exploits. Today, I said it was my big day, buying my first gun, and one of the fellas was happy with me about it. He said there really weren't too many people who took up hunting out of the blue like I was doing. Most people learn it as kids. Anyway, I gotta say, I had a nice time buying my gun. Bob threw in a leather sling too. The gun is handsome, all decked out in leather, with a walnut stock.

So, now I'm a gun owner. Yee-haw!

The Pause Button

This is a quick post just to let you know that I'm going to take a break for a little bit. I have to study for my California Hunter's License, which takes about 10 hours on line, plus a 4-hour class. Here's the online class I'm doing. Since I work full time, I'm going to be squeezing this into the time I usually devote to writing.

I'm doing this because my coach thinks I'll be ready to go on a hunt with her in late November or December, which seems amazing, but I have to take her word for it.

Who knows? Maybe this will go faster than I think. I've gotta say: this is not the kind of material I'm used to absorbing. The closest I've come is my early love of Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett.

Maybe we'll have pork sausage by Christmas!

Coach

Friends, for the first time in my life, I have a coach!

When I last practiced shooting, I realized that my next step would be to move on to the public range at Chabot, which requires owning a gun. But when I looked at the range, I could see that it was the kind of thing I'd prefer to do with someone else. Also, I'm not ready to buy a gun, for the simple reason that I'm not sure which one to buy. And, I know for certain that I need more instruction.

In short, I felt strongly that I wanted a coach, a guide, preferably someone who could improve my shooting and then also teach me hunting. Ultimately, I also want to learn about dressing the carcass.

Back in April, when I visited The Old West Gun Room, I had gotten the business card of a trainer named Denise King. I had written her, but she was unavailable then due to personal issues. I decided to recontact her and see if things had resolved themselves.

Lucky for me, they have, and Denise has agreed to take me on. In fact, she has an entire training regime laid out, starting with more work on the .22. As she says, "Our first goals will be to safely learn how to safely handle, clean, sight in and understand the basic shooting principles for the light rifle." We're going to be working together at the San Leandro Rifle & Pistol Range, and then later on, we will move out to her ranch (!) in Sunol. Out at the ranch, we'll work on "moving targets, longer yardage shots, non-standard shooting positions, the use of shooting sticks, inclination and delineation shots, etc."

I'm going to be taking the NRA Basic Rifle course. Think of it! According to Denise, this covers "the rules of safety, nomenclature, cleaning, sighting in (including how to use a bore sighter), and the fundamentals of shooting; i.e. stance, grip, breath control, sight alignment, and trigger press.  We cover the basic shooting positions of benchrest, standing, kneeling, and sitting.  You get a nice textbook reference with the course."

She's letting me practice with her guns so that I find out what kind of rifle is a good fit for me before I buy one. Apparently (and not surprisingly), only some rifles can be made to fit women's physiques. Because I have been to the Old West Gun Room, and I mentioned that I'd probably buy my gun from Bob there, Denise is giving me a 50% discount on her fee. I guess she really likes Bob.

All this starts on the 22nd of August. I am really excited. Now I know for sure I am on the path toward hunting a boar!

On doing something new

One of the most striking things about learning to shoot a gun is the sheer newness of this experience. When I was driving to Chabot Gun Club the first time two weeks ago, I was taken by how I was about to do something completely different from anything I'd ever done before. I'd be meeting people I'd never met before, and it was likely that there would be more than several degrees of separation between me and these folks. I'd be rubbing elbows with members of the NRA, and, in fact, I would be allowing one of these these people to be my teacher for the morning.

These places where I go to shoot guns feel miles away from Berkeley. In some ways, they are.

I can feel myself stretching.

Last weekend, I had an unexpected realization. Iris and I went to the movies on Saturday--we saw Inception--and all of a sudden I realized that scenes with guns have changed for me. Gun scenes used to be entirely fantasy scenes for me. I didn't have any kind of connection to them at all. But now I have shot a pistol, and I have shot a rifle. I know what that feels like. When I saw the characters in the movie shooting, I could imagine what they felt like. It has changed my appreciation, or maybe it's my apprehension, just a little bit.

I don't have a big conclusion to this, just a kind of awe that I can be this open to such a wild new thing.

Report from Chabot Gun Club

On Saturday, the 10th, I spent my morning at Chabot Gun Club for the Junior Light Rifle training. This is an open class, with a pre-announced limit of seventeen. On Saturday, they actually took twenty of us. It costs only $7.00, plus $3.00 for eye protection if you don't bring your own. This is much cheaper than any other training or course anywhere else around here, and it's one of the two places where you can get instruction and practice if you don't own your own gun (the other being Target Master, where I went in March).

The Club is located inside Chabot Regional Park, which is part of the East Bay Regional Park system. To get to it, I wound my way back into the park, 6 miles past Skyline Boulevard on Redwood Road. I felt like I was pretty much out in the country by the time I saw the turn off.

What I liked immediately was the mix of people. There were women, men, kids, and teenagers, and people had come from all over the East Bay. I asked the woman who was shooting next to me why she had come, or what her interest was, and she said she was there because she was afraid of guns. She thought the training would help her overcome her fear.

The class started with all us of getting our equipment: a rug to lay on (we would be shooting prone, or laying down), sand bags, our rifles, and ammunition. Then, we put targets on the target stands, which were set up at 25 yards for the first half of the session. Later, we could move them to 50 yards if we wanted to. Here's a photo of what the targets look like on the range.

Then we had a safety briefing. Our guide through all of this was a fellow named Dwight, from El Cerrito. Dwight told us how to hold the rifle safely when walking around, how and where to stand at various times, and so forth. I realized I would need to hear these things several more times before I had them memorized. I just don't memorize things as easily as I used to.

Then we started shooting "rounds." A round is one shot. My first shot missed the target entirely. I pointed this out to Dwight, and he asked me if I had used all 3 of the sights on the gun. I thought there were only 2! Once I learned there was a third, suddenly I was doing pretty well. I began to get all my shots on the targets, closer and closer together.

We were shooting 22s, just like I shot at Target Master, only this time I had a bolt-action rifle. Before I had used a semi-automatic. What this meant was that I had to load my gun each time I wanted to shoot. And, my gun never jammed. (The semi-automatic rifle I used in Milpitas jammed over and over.) I liked this gun much better than the semi-automatic.

Dwight told me to count to 3 before removing my finger from the trigger, and also to try not to close my eyes after I pull the trigger. This is not easy to do, because of the BANG! But when I tried his approach, I saw some improvement. I hit my first bulls-eye. By the way, I found out the black circle is called a "bull."

After a shot, you smell the same smell that fireworks make: gunpowder. I've liked that smell since I was a little girl watching the Fourth of July displays over Lake Ellyn, in Glen Ellyn, Illinois.

So, I like it. Dwight asked me to come again and I think I will.

Back from the firing range

I wanted to jot down a couple of quick observations from my trip to Target Master West in Milpitas where I shot a gun for the first time today.

(If you want to know the background on this, look here.)

First, Target Master West is located in a strip mall, like everything else in Milpitas. Somehow perfectly NRA, and yet so far from the Wild West.

The staff member who helped us was very friendly, explaining our choices and showing me--the total neophyte-- how to load the ammunition and rifle. The guy standing next to me with his rifle showed me how to hold the rifle. When I said it was the first time I had ever held one, he said, "we've all been there."

We chose our targets, simple bull's-eyes,donned our ear and eye protection and then went into the lanes. I had lane 15. Stephanie clipped on my target the first time, and I controlled how far away it went on the wire with a switch. I loaded my gun, shouldered the rifle and started shooting.

What I learned fairly quickly was that I tended to shoot high and to the left. When I remembered to put my cheek to the rifle, like the man in the line told me, I could get a better aim, and hit the bull's eye circle. I liked this challenge quite a bit, and I liked that I could get better at it within the hour we shot.

The rifle I used was a 22. That's the smallest size. It jammed a lot, which people said happens fairly often with 22s, because the bullets are really small. They get turned around inside the chamber. When I do this again, I want to try a rifle that uses larger bullets. I'll need to get used to that, anyway, for boar hunting.

Being a carnivore

Next weekend, I'm taking a first step toward eating more meat. When I first started this blog, I explained why I eat fish and not other animals. I've stuck with that for a while now, something like a year and a half.

However, I have had in the back of my mind the last chapter of Michael Pollan's book The Omnivore's Dilemma in which he makes a meal from food he has hunted or gathered. The meat he serves comes from a wild boar he has hunted in Sonoma County, CA.

It seems that the wild boar is considered an invasive species pretty much everywhere it now lives, including Sonoma County. That gives hunting wild pigs an environmentally righteous tinge. The hunter can feel he or she is part of an environmental solution, a clean-up task, if you will.

The California Department of Fish and Game actually has a Wild Pig Management Program, including special hunts, hunter education, and "pig take reports." From the pig take reports of past years, you can see the "method of take" for every county in the state. By far, the most common method of "taking" a wild pig is with a rifle.

And that leads to my next step: a field trip to Target Master West, a shooting range in Milpitis. I have to find out if I can shoot a rifle! I am going with a few friends from work, who have been to Target Master several times before. This is just the first step, I know, but it definitely feels like a moment.

Target Master's tagline is "Serving the Shooting Community for Over 25 Years." The thought that I might be joining "the shooting community" has given me pause, I  must say. I find myself imagining wearing some kind of sign on my back saying "only hunting for food not sport."

At the bottom of this is a real curiosity on my part as to whether or not I have it in me to be a pig hunter. I'm going to start finding that out.