Operation Billy Goat

My associate had told me only to meet him at Nawilili Harbor. I would receive further instructions when I got there. “Go past the one lane bridge to the park on the left” he told me. When I arrived he told me to park next to him while he loaded a backpack and a rifle wrapped in a garbage bag into the back of my truck. He glanced around nervously and climbed into the back of my truck himself, instructing me to drive a little further down the road. Our destination had still not been revealed to me.

I pulled over next to a tree lined river. A small opening in the vegetation provided a clear path from the road to the water. Soon a small boat motored toward us. My associate spoke to the pilot in hushed tones and I could decipher very little of the heavy pidgin they spoke. I gathered only that his other boat had been boarded by the coast guard and we had better stash the rifle out of site. He was nervous about his rear mounted engines getting stuck in the mud and he told us to stand near the front of the boat as we pulled out into the river.

We crossed to the other side of the river to a similar opening in the trees and disembarked with our gear. I was now where few Haoles ever tread. I had the distinct feeling that what we were doing was not entirely legal. I was right.

But what were we doing? This vegetarian of nice years was going hunting on the 4th of July. To be more precise I was tagging along with my friend who was going hunting. I did not participate. My friend was born and raised on Kauai and when you get his voice mail it explains that he can’t come to the phone because he’s “either on the ocean or on the mountain.” When he offered to take me to his favorite hunting spot I explained that I didn’t hunt but I loved hiking and when you take away the part about shooting animals isn’t that what hunting is? Here was an opportunity to do something very new to me and to go somewhere seriously off the beaten path.

We were hunting for pigs and goats. Piggy got away but Billy wasn’t so lucky. I watched as my friend pursued and killed a goat and then beheaded, de-hoofed and gutted it. We loaded the remaining meat into a backpack and returned to the pick-up point. A “hike” of about four hours through steep and overgrown terrain, on unmaintained use trails or no trail at all, we were the only people around and were treated to stunning ocean views.
That’s probably as close as I’ll ever get to hunting. I never fired the gun. The only time I held it was when I posed for the picture.