Hunting Mathematics

One of the most striking cases is the number one in each hunt group. Nobody wants it. I don’t understand why people try to avoid being in the first position of the group when, in reality, we are the ones who will be hunting the longest, since they’ll drop us off as soon as we arrive and we’ll be the last to be picked up. Plus, we’ll walk the least of all, although sometimes this doesn’t always hold true.

To share an anecdote, I remember a hunt back in 1996 at La Dehesa de la Fuente. My father was in charge of one of the groups. In the first position, a friend of both of us, who hadn’t set foot in his house all night, had decided to go straight from the "flamenco party" to the hunt, and to top it off, he drew number "1." My father dropped us off from the car, and we headed to the stand. As he was setting up, my friend told me: "If I had known, I would’ve gone to bed..." During the entertaining hunt, we saw him bag a fox right after release, then a double hit of wild boar with his lever-action Winchester, and even finish off a catch. And all of this from number "1!"

Another time, around 1998, we were hunting in Alconchel with the town’s hunting society, a tight brush patch surrounded by an olive grove, and we drew number 3. Right after we got out of the cars, we walked about a hundred meters, and there was the first stand, that dreaded number "1." The person occupying it faced the guide and started cursing in every language possible: complaining about the cars, the clear line of fire… The truth is, where he was, it was as flat as a football field, completely clear, with the only olive tree around hanging over the area.

As soon as the hunt started, he fired off all five shots from his magazine, and later, we managed to bag a medium-sized boar, around fifty kilos. A little while later, he emptied his rifle again and, before the hunt ended, fired two more shots. When we retrieved the group, there he was with a massive boar at his feet and two more he had missed—so much for the bad luck of number "1."

To further drive the point home about number one, last year, hunting in Las Alpiedras, I drew that top spot. When I arrived, there was a whole hill ridge for me, and the packs were set to end their run right at the bottom of the ravine I overlooked. So, from head to tail, it was all game. The wind was at my back, and the cold was biting, with two or three game trails to monitor, so my imagination had to go into overdrive. I figured out a way to block possible escape routes and shelter from the wind.

It worked, and when the packs got close, they flushed the game, with a stag stepping out right into the open spot I had prepared—or whatever you want to call it. A shot to the shoulder and a short run to its end. Once again, I had a trophy in the "number 1" spot. Being the first and last in each group seems to be frowned upon in our world, but frankly, it makes no sense.

Another number that often gets a bad rap is thirteen. This one has earned its reputation on its own merits to the point where I’ve seen some organizers skip from twelve to fourteen to avoid the superstition. But I also have plenty to say about number thirteen. A few years ago, around 2007, we were hunting wolves in Zamora. We drew number thirteen on the line. I must say, some people love the number, like my father. So, he was delighted with the draw, while the more superstitious in the group offered their condolences.

The hunt began, and halfway through, the dogs gave chase right towards us. The stands were very long and spaced out from each other, so we had a bit of "mobility" within our position. The pack got closer. A boar slipped through right at the bend in the road, but I couldn’t get it in the scope in the split second I had. The dogs reached our stand and turned back. A little while later, another chase was heard, seemingly following the same path… "Not now!" I thought, and I moved to the bend in case it took the same escape route; but no, two roe deer jumped right over my chair and backpack.

I returned to my spot, not entirely convinced, left my gear there, and moved to the edge of the clearing. Almost at the end of the hunt, a few shots rang out, followed by a long and intense chase. I climbed up a few meters and perched on a small ledge with a view. As I got up, I saw the ferns shaking—here it comes! I got it in my scope and squeezed the trigger; I only saw hair. Less than three meters away, the boar stood up again, I fired again, and it rolled. It tried to get back up, so I sent two more rounds its way. When we returned to the group, there it was—a boar from the thirteenth stand!

So, I encourage you not to take these matters lightly just because of the number you draw. Numbers are just numbers. Mathematics is exact, but hunting mathematics, as the name suggests, is hunting, and in hunting, two plus two doesn’t always equal four.

Text: Carlos Casilda. Photos: C. Casilda and Grupo Vigilancia y Gestión.

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