Open Writing

Toby Reynolds idolized his Uncle Jack. In his mind Uncle Jack ranked alongside heroes like Indiana Jones, Davy Crocket and Crocodile Dundee.

Uncle Jack was tall and strong; so strong he could carry a bag of cement under each arm and he was the best shearer in the district. He could handle a sheep as though it was made of tissue paper. He rarely bothered with a haircut and seldom shaved, so his face was usually covered with stubble.

He drove a Ute and had two dogs which he took into the bush to hunt wild pigs. He also shot goats, which he used as meat for his dogs, and trapped possums for their skins. He told Toby he made a tidy sum from them. Toby had felt a bit sick the first time he’d seen Uncle Jack rip the skin from a possum. He was used to it now and even set a few traps himself, though Uncle Jack said it was best not to let his mother know as she was citified and funny about things like that. To avoid his mother asking any awkward questions about the money Toby was making from the skins, Uncle Jack deposited it into a bank account he had opened for him.

Mum said Uncle Jack was a man’s man and she had been appalled when Toby told her when he grew up he wanted to be a man’s man just like Uncle Jack. She said he’d be better off trying to emulate his father, as he’d been away to university and that had rubbed the rough edges off him. “This farm will be yours one day,” she said, “and we would like to see you go to an Agricultural University before you took it over.”

When Toby discussed this with Uncle Jack, he said he thought his brother was a bit of a Patsy and he couldn’t see how you needed book learning to be a farmer; it was simply a matter of getting on with it. Toby didn’t like school much so he decided to become the same type of farmer as Uncle Jack rather than doing any study, though he thought it was wiser to keep this to himself for the time being.

Most Saturday afternoons Toby liked to sit with his father and Uncle Jack as they enjoyed a beer and watched a rugby match on television. Toby hung on every word Uncle Jack uttered. However on this occasion, most of their conversation centred on what needed doing on the farm, the current price of wool and how they could improve their milk yield. It was all rather boring really. Toby was going to leave them to it, but his ears pricked up when he heard Uncle Jack tell his father, he and a group of mates were going pig hunting the next day. He didn’t notice Uncle Jack wink at his father as he continued, “There is a ferocious big old pig we’re after that keeps eluding us. We’ve seen it open its mouth and swallow a whole dog.” He turned to Toby and asked, “Would you like to come with us?”

“Wow! Yes, please, Uncle Jack. That would be mighty. Can I go please, Dad?”

“It’s okay with me son, but for the sake of peace you’d better check with your mother.”

Much to Toby’s chagrin she wouldn’t hear of it. “It’s too dangerous and you’re too young,” she said. Toby was bitterly disappointed as it was school holidays and after he had finished his chores it was a bit boring being stuck on the farm.
The next day, after he was convinced his mother wouldn’t relent; he and his friend Sam decided to check the possum traps they had set the day before. Disappointingly they were all empty. “I haven’t had much luck recently,” he said to Sam. “How about we go further into the bush and try setting them there? That’s unless you are too scared. Uncle Jack told me yesterday there was a mean old pig in there that can swallow a dog in one gulp.”

“You didn’t believe him did you? I bet he was just pulling your leg. I’ve been pig hunting with my dad hundreds of times and I’ve never seen a pig like that.”

Envious that his friend, who was two years older, had actually been pig hunting Toby said, “Well, you lead the way.”

The further into the bush they went the darker it got. The sunlight shining through the branches cast ghostly shadows on the ground. They began to feel uneasy. “It’s spooky in here,” Toby whispered.

“Don’t be a scaredy cat,” spat Sam.

Although the eeriness of the bush had the hair on the back of Toby’s neck standing on end he didn’t want to appear cowardly in front of his friend. Full of sham bravado, he said “I’m not scared. I’m just saying it’s spooky.”

“Do you want to go back?”

“No. I want to set some traps.”

Suddenly, there was a rustling in the undergrowth. Toby and Sam jumped and grabbed each other. They stood still and listened. Neither of them wanting to admit they were afraid.

“What was that?” Toby asked, regaining enough composure to speak.

Sam grinned. “You are scared.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are. If you’re not scared, crawl into those bushes and see what made that noise.”

“Why? Are you afraid to go yourself?”

“No. I’m not afraid. I’ve been in the bush heaps of times.”

“Let’s go together then,” Toby compromised.

They moved closer to the undergrowth. There they saw half a dozen ugly, young pigs rooting in the soil. Toby’s eyes sparkled. “How about some nice fresh pork for dinner?”

Without waiting for an answer, he crept closer on his hands and knees until he was behind a big tussock bush across from the selected grunter. He sprang and caught the pig by the hind leg. It squealed and grunted and jumped. Soon, the two of them were rolling over and over, but Toby hung on. The other young pigs, rushed at Toby. He was kicking them away while trying to hold on to his prisoner.

Sam could see his friend was losing the battle, for as quickly as he dealt with one, another would run at him. He decided to go for help. Running out of the bush he yelled at the top of his voice, “Help! Help! Toby’s caught a pig.”

Out of nowhere Uncle Jack appeared. Together they ran back towards the horrific noise coming from the bushes. The sight that met their eyes made Sam tremble with fear. There, getting ready to charge at Toby, who was still wrestling with the grunter, was the largest, meanest looking sow Sam had ever seen. The terrible thought came to his mind, Uncle Jack had not been joking yesterday, and this was the very creature he’d been talking about. As afraid as he was, his first instinct was to help Toby. He grabbed a sturdy piece of fallen wood and yelled at the sow. It’s attention distracted, it prepared to rush at him. He froze, closed his eyes and braced himself to meet his fate. A fearsome commotion reverberated through out the bush. Sam opened his eyes again to see Uncle Jack thundering towards the sow, with his two dogs. The big old sow and her brood scampered into the undergrowth. Toby had managed to keep hold of his prey, but he looked away as Uncle Jack whipped out his hunting knife and cut the piglet’s throat. Toby threw the beast over his shoulder and they headed home. He could see his mother hanging out the washing as they approached the house. A look of anger distorted her face. “I thought I told you, you were not to go pig hunting with your Uncle Jack,” she screamed. “Really Jack,” she railed, “have you no sense of responsibility?”

“I didn’t go with Uncle Jack, I caught this blighter myself”,''replied Toby as he dumped the dead pig on the front porch. “I guess this makes me a man’s man,” he grinned