The farmer called Mat and me with a problem: his paddocks were being torn apart by wild pigs, and he needed it sorted. These weren’t just a nuisance; they were ripping up the land, destroying crops and costing him money.
The itch to grab our Crispi boots and escape into the bush had been growing for weeks. So, when the weekend forecast promised at least one pearler day, we didn’t hesitate. It was time for a long-overdue chamois hunt.
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