Hog hunt, 7/23/2015

Another day, another hog hunt.  

I set out again around 5:00 with temps hovering right around 100 degrees.  As before, liberal amounts of bug dope applied.

I have had a hog pipe set up for several months, and it has seen quite a bit of action lately.  I decided that tonight's hunt would focus on the thick, dark woods directly behind the pipe.  Perhaps I should digress a bit here and paint the picture of the hog pipe:

My hog pipe is a homemade device consisting of a 5 foot segment of 4" diameter plain, unpainted PVC pipe, which is threaded at each end.  Each end is capped.  I drilled 3/8" holes along the body of the pipe, and then attached about ten feet of steel cable to the nearest tree.  I uncap one end and fill with deer corn once a week.  The hogs go wild over rolling and tossing the pipe all over the place, but the corn comes out in pretty small amounts.  A 50lb bag lasts me a couple of weeks.

My pipe is set up on the edge of a pipeline right of way and a patch of thick, dark swampy woods.  I have found this "transition zone" to be a great place to find deer and hogs alike.  

I have noticed lately that my pipe has been savaged by something large and aggressive.   A young sweet gum sapling has been bent parallel to the ground by muddy rubs that go almost 3 feet high.  The steel cable has cut deeply into the PVC by the force of the animal tossing it around nearby tree trunks and bushes, almost resulting in a complete decapitation of one of the end caps.  I have had this same hog pipe continually going for almost five years in various locations, and it has never before been savaged like this.  My trail cam has been down, so no pics of the beast that is responsible.

And damned if I didn't go in and find him.

My strategy had the simplicity that only the dumb and/or inexperienced can have.  I have a double measure of both.

I rattled the pipe with my foot, hoping the sound of the rolling corn would perk the ears of any nearby hogs.  Then I followed a well-worn game trail into the deep woods behind the pipe.  I haven't hunted these woods before, so I didn't know much about them.

I was wearing plastic lower-leg guards, the type that kind of snap over your boots and extend up to the knees.  I was wearing these because in two previous days of stalking, I had very nearly stepped on two water moccasins, and had seen perhaps ten others.  This is very snaky country, and I can only imagine what the emergency room bill would be.

However, the snake guards did make walking quietly through a dry, crackling wood pretty hard.  I took my time and watched for the exact locations where my footfalls would be before I took a stride.  I fudged a few steps and in general thought I was being louder than I should, but still decently quiet.

A flicker of his tail gave him away.  He was alone, as most boars are, and he was not two hundred yards deep into the forest from where my pipe was situated at the forest's edge.  I do not doubt that this was the boar that had been hitting my pipe.

I crept to within 30 yards undetected by the boar.  I was and am satisfied that my stalking skills are getting better.  However...

My first clear shot would have been an ass shot, basically me shooting at the base of his tail and hoping that the bullet would penetrate lengthwise.  I think that a 170 grain Remington Core-Lokt out of the .30-30 would have done just that at 30 yards, but for reasons that escape me, I waited.  I vaguely remember wanting to see the whole animal before shooting.  For some reason, that seemed important, and perhaps it was.

I waited, attempted to reposition, pulled up again, and cranked up the scope on him.  There was a little brush in the way, but not much.  I thought I had a decent enough neck shot, and touched one off.  He immediately ran across my frontal vision from left to right, straight into the thickest, nastiest swamp I have ever seen.  I shot at him on the run, but knew before I pulled the trigger that I wouldn't hit him.  I walked over to the water's edge and raised two water moccasins, one of which was a good 30" long and thick in the body.  I chased him no further.

Of course, I backtracked and searched long and hard for any sort of blood trail.  Of course, there was none.  

I must say that the lesson is much the same as the day before:  stalking up within range of pigs has been successful, but sealing the deal with a proper shot has been a failure.  Again, it is patience and discipline and perhaps skill at shooting moving targets.  Again, the lesson is not lost on me:  more patience is needed when setting up for the kill shot.  Wait until it is a chip shot.  This I have learned, and this I will do.  

In the meantime, I will just keep huntin'.

River bottom hog hunt, 7/22/2015

Had an enjoyable late afternoon/evening hog hunt in the swampy, steamy July riverbottoms.  Temp hovered around 100 degrees when I set out, and very soon my jeans and t-shirt looked like they'd been drowned.  The bugs in the swamp are frightful:  not just mosquitoes, but the clouds of biting horseflies, yellow jackets, red wasps and loads of other unidentifiable flying insects make strong bug-dope an absolute necessity.  This is the type of terrain I was hunting:

See the high-water marks on the trunks from recent floods

It is too hot to sit in a blind or stand in July, and I was "exploring" as much as I was hunting, so I chose a general area that I wanted to investigate and set out.  Still hunting is my preferred method of chase-- I like to get out and see what there is to see.  It's also more challenging, in my opinion, because when you move you have many more opportunities to bungle things up, whether it be your loud walking, misreading the wind direction, allowing your movements to give you away, etc.

Texas had a very wet spring and early summer, but things have dried off over the last few weeks, leaving the forest floor crackly and difficult to creep through without making noise.  Today I was focusing on technique more than finding game.  I am an avid hunter, and a passionate one, but I cannot say that I am yet a very skillful one.  Today's focus was on patience and discipline: walking excruciatingly slowly so as to keep noise to a minimum, and to see, hear, smell, and feel the forest as fully as I could experience it.  In the immortal words of Syrio Forel, "See with your eyes."

Thirty minutes in and I heard a loud grunt.  I froze and grinned to myself: there they were.  I stalked patiently, slowly, slowly, and found a nice place to wait for the hogs to come into view.  Then, I waited.  And waited.  

I heard the grunt again, this time closer, and I almost yelled in frustration:  it was a crane.  A huge, six-foot water bird whose ugly honk sounds eerily similar to a pig's snort.  This is not the first time I've been duped by a crane.

I set out on my silent stroll again, and pretty soon got into a nice zone.  I didn't have to think so hard about placing my feet silently; my feet found a nice, natural rhythm on their own.  If I saw movement, I turned my head subtly, not quickly, and my movements settled into a slow, smooth pattern.  I felt like I was doing pretty good- this is exactly what I wanted to practice today.

Then I saw them.  Two sows with piglets, in a dry slough thirty yards to my left.  They were facing away from me and feeding as they walked.  I found them in the scope but couldn't get a clean shot before they'd moved around an impenetrable wall of green brush.  I could hear them chomping loudly.

Here's where I'd screwed up in the past:  I had hogs right in front of me, but they were in heavy cover and I didn't have a clear shot.  I knew from regrettable experience that rushing the shot is the worst possible thing to do.  So, I did exactly what I'd not done in the past: I sat on the ground and did nothing.

I waited ten minutes in silence, still as a statue, listening to them feed and grunt to each other.  I had a tree next to me for a good rest if they left cover and gave me a clean shot, but it didn't happen. After another five minutes, I slowly crept laterally to my right, trying to get them in view.  Eventually I could see them, but there was still to much brush in the way to shoot.  I sat again behind an oak and waited.  They moved off a bit and I began to worry that they'd leave without giving me an opportunity.  

I rushed the shot.

With the crack of the .30-30, one, two, three, four, .... seven adult sows and a dozen or so piglets ran straight across my field of view.  I had a few seconds to fire while they ran through the open timber, much like shooting birds on the wing.  I fired three times.  Three clean misses.

No kill today, but I still gained some valuable experience.  I was pleased with my patient stalking:  I got to within 10 yards of the bunch, and they were not alerted to my presence until I took the shot.  I also discovered some prime feeding grounds that I can hunt again down the road.

I also learned that I need to work on my shooting.  A lot.  I have shot a fair amount lately, but mainly to zero in the scope on my .30-30.  Bench rest shooting is not field shooting, that much I learned.  I need to learn to shoot at moving targets.  I believe my equipment to be suitable for this type of hunting:  a Marlin .30-30 with Bushnell 3x9 40mm scope.  It's the guy behind the gun that needs work.  

1972 Marlin .30-30, a great hog rifle

I may consider removing the scope and going back to the iron sights.  That might be a better setup for shooting pigs on the run, but it is a clear step back when shots are a little longer.  I'm going to practice a bit more with the scope and table that thought for now.

Four shots, four clean misses.  My shooting needs practice.

When I searched the ground where the hogs had been feeding, seeking fruitlessly for a nonexistent blood trail, I came across what they appear to have been searching for:  crawfish.  There are a great many crawfish in the shallow muddy sloughs, and I knew that raccoons like to eat them.  Apparently feral hogs do too.

Crawfish look like tiny lobsters.  

I very nearly stumbled upon this unexpected water moccasin on the way back to the truck.  This is the second one in two days that I've nearly stepped on.  I have a pair of slip-on snake guards that cover the shins and calved.  They will definitely be on my legs until the weather cools off.

Second water moccasin I've almost stepped on in two days.

Of course, the day is not only about hunting, but being outside and experiencing nature, even on a 100 degree July day in a swamp, is always a treat.

The elusive "Perfect Rifle"

I've spent many an hour pondering the merits of various rifles, their pros and cons, and the applications at which they might excel.  I jump around quite a bit:  one week I'm keenly interested in a hard-hitting 45-70 Marlin Guide Gun.  The next week I'm enchanted by the golden reputation of the pre-1964 Model 70 Winchester.  At other times I get a hankering for the clean lines and refined simplicity of a Ruger No. 1 single shot, chambered in any of a handful of exotic and interesting calibers (.303 British, 375 H&H, 9.3 x 74R). 

I don't have the budget to own each of the guns or calibers that I become infatuated with.  I don't really want to own them anyway.  If I bought them, I'd cease to daydream about them, and that's at least half the fun.  Anticipation itself is so often more pleasing than the object of anticipation. 

The ever-elusive "Perfect Rifle" must adhere to some rather strict parameters.  In no particular order, they are:

1. It must be chambered for an all-around caliber, versatile enough to hunt game up to moose or elk.
2. The caliber must be widely available.  Ammo that's available only online is a pain.
3. Recoil must be manageable.  The "Perfect Rifle" will be shot a lot.  Excessive recoil is a turn off and kills accuracy.
4. It must be a repeater.  Some repeaters are better than others.  I much prefer lever guns.
5. It must be short and light enough to carry well, but solid enough to help dampen recoil.
6. It must be functionally reliable.
7. It must be reasonably accurate (2 MOA or less).  That's enough for a hunting rifle. 

With these parameters in place, several candidates can be quickly discounted:

The beautiful, classy Ruger No. 1.  This rifle gets high marks for reliability, accuracy, and aesthetics, but it is limited in application.  Hunting dangerous game with a single shot is playing Russian roulette.  Getting charged by a large boar with only one cartridge in the chamber is not an appealing scenario.

Ruger No. 1.  Photo by Sturm, Ruger & Co., Inc.

All bolt-action rifles.  This will raise some eyebrows, as the bolt action is by far the most common type of hunting rifle used in the United States or anywhere else, and not without reason.  They are generally reliable, accurate firearms that can handle most any type of ammunition, unlike lever actions, which generally only handle flat or rounded bullets.  Bolt actions can handle spitzer-shaped (pointed) bullets, which are vastly more ballistically efficient and therefore have a much longer effective range.  My reason for discounting bolt-action rifles is 80% personal preference and 20% hard fact.  I plain don't like bolt action rifles.  They're common, they're utilitarian, they're....prosaic.  Boring.  Also, they aren't very quick on repeating shots.  Yes, you have several shots available in most bolt action rifles, but no, they do not come out very fast, no matter how much practice you've had. 

Remington 700 BDL.  Photo by Remington Arms Co.

Traditional lever-action rifles.  This breaks my heart.  Excluding the rifles that won the West, that have been America's go-to deer rifles for generations and have defended rural folks from man and beast for over a hundred years proves that I'm nothing if not objective in my criteria.   I've often stated that I hunt almost exclusively with a Marlin 336 carbine in .30-30 Winchester.  Why isn't the lever-action .30-30 not the elusive "Perfect Rifle"?  Let's break it down.  

1. Caliber widely available?  Yes.  .30-30 Winchester ammo is available anywhere ammunition is sold.
2. Recoil is manageable?  Yes.  It kicks much less than most other big game calibers out there.
3. Repeater?  Yes.  The lever action is also much faster on repeat shots than the bolt action.
4. Short and light?  Yes.  The Marlin and Winchester carbines are the best handling hunting rifles in existence.
5. Functionally reliable?  Yes.  The Marlin and Winchester designs are each over 100 years old.
6. Reasonably accurate?  Yes.  It is common for these guns to shoot 1.5-2 MOA.  Plenty good for hunting applications.

      

So, what gives?  In a word, ballistics.  As great as the venerable .30-30 Winchester is, it is limited as an all-around rifle cartridge.  I hunt in brushy areas and never seriously challenge the range of the .30-30, but if I hunted, say, elk in Colorado or mule deer in Montana, I'd choose something else.  A scoped .30-30 has an effective maximum range of around 225 yards.  After that, you're holding over a game animal's back to account for bullet drop, and the bullet is seriously running out of steam when it reaches the target.  The lack of range issue would rule out the .30-30 for a Montana hunt as well, but so would the presence of grizzly bears.   For all its many virtues, the .30-30 is not ideal grizzly defense.

Stainless Marlin 336 .30-30.  Photo by Marlin Firearms Co.

So what is the elusive "Perfect Rifle"?  I've eliminated the vast majority of rifles commonly bought and used by hunters and shooters in this country, and around the world for that matter.  However, there is one rifle out there, made by one company, that fits all my strict requirements better than any other candidate.  Honestly, I was very surprised to come to this conclusion.  Well, what is it?

Drum roll please.....

The Browning BLR in .30-06 Springfield.

Huh?

Browning's lever-action rifle is an instrinsically different design from the traditional Marlins or Winchesters.  The most important departure is in how the cartridges are stored in the magazine.  In traditional lever-action rifles, the extra shells stack up end-to-end in the magazine tube under the barrel.  Because the tip of one cartridge is touching the primer of the next, only flat or rounded bullets can be used.  Spitzer (pointed) bullets might set off the primer of the cartridge it rests upon, resulting in a big bang and a greasy spot on the ground where the rifleman was standing.  In the BLR, the bullets stack up on each others' sides, like in a bolt action's magazine.  This allows the BLR to be chambered for cartridges that shoot pointed bullets, like the .30-06 Springfield.  To be fair, the BLR action is very complex and some would say over-engineered.  However, most BLR owners report that this is a remarkably well made, reliable rifle.

Browning BLR.  Photos by the Browning Arms Co.

The BLR combines the fast follow-up shots of a lever action (the BLR action is actually faster and smoother than the Marlin or Winchester) with the true versatility of the .30-06 Springfield cartridge.  The range and power of the .30-06 far exceeds that of my beloved .30-30, making this a truly all-around rifle.  Your Colorado elk hunt?  The .30-06 has likely taken more elk than any other cartridge.  Your Montana mule deer hunt, and potential grizzly encounter?  Load up the universally available 180 grain Remington Core-Lokt ammunition and you can reach out for that buck at 300 yards, and if needs be, shoot the same bullet through both shoulders of the biggest grizzly out there.  In the BLR, quick repeat shots are available if necessary.  The .30-06 is the unrivalled king of versatility. 

180 grain .30-06 ammo.  Photo by Remington Arms Co.

Well, it's been fun.  I've found the elusive "Perfect Rifle".....or have I?  This has been a decision made on paper.  When it comes to rifles, ladies and gents, decisions just cannot be made on paper.  There are subtleties and intangibles that are hard to quantify.  I think my criteria for choosing a great all-around rifle are sound, but there's no perfect gun out there.  Shoot much, experience much, get to know several different types of firearms.  Intimately know the application you intend for the rifle.  Then you can make a decision for yourself.  A man is denied many choices in life, but I fervently insist that he chooses his own gun.  At the end of the day, this article was just talk.  Fun talk.  Entertainment.  What it leaves out is the subjective element, the human element.  The 'feel' of a particular rifle in your hands.  The way it comes to your shoulder.  The pride it may inspire in you.  Certain guns can impart a bit of childhood magic- don't discount that.  It can be just as important as ballistics tables.  I still remember the day my dad bought me my first BB gun- a Red Ryder, and I remember every dent and scrape that it accumulated over the next few years.  Those memories are sacred.  Maybe that Red Ryder is actually my elusive "Perfect Rifle" after all. 

Just keep huntin.

Rifles for hog hunting

The question of what artillery to use for hunting feral hogs is a lively, beautiful debate that has given me many happy hours of reflection.  The simple answer is this:  anything will work. 

That being said, the simple answer is woefully inadequate to address an issue as fraught with subtleties as this one is.  Many thousands of feral hogs have been dispatched with the lowly .22 rifle or pistol, but is it a great idea to rely on that level of firepower?  Hell no.

Feral hogs have the potential to be truly dangerous game.  They aren't deer, or coyote, or coons.  They sometimes charge, and they sometimes have 6" tusks that are great for disembowling other mammals.  God gave the mature male hogs extremely thick skin on their shoulders, which they supplement with sap by rubbing on pine trees and by rolling in wet clay.  When the males fight, they try to cut into each other's shoulders with their tusks, so building up this shoulder shield is in their best interest.  Sometimes, bow hunters' broadheads are bent and broken by this ultra-tough 'shield', and many smaller caliber bullets fail to fully penetrate to the vitals.  A .22 might just bounce off. 

Then there's the problem of swine anatomy.  Hogs' vitals are not situated like a deer's are.  The heart/lung area in a pig is hidden by its massive shoulder area, not behind the front elbow like your cuddly whitetail deer's is.  You have to shoot through the abovementioned shield to get to the boiler room.  There is a shortcut, however.

Pigs are one of the very few animals in which a neck shot is perhaps the most reasonable placement.  A pig's spinal column is located in the middle part of its neck when viewed from the side.  A solid neck shot is generally an instant kill, as is a shot behind the ear.  However, even if the hog is down and unmoving, an insurance shot into the head is always smart.  You don't want your prize boar waking up while you're posing beside it for victory photos.

To guns.

The Marlin Firearms Company, recently acquired by Remington Arms Company, Inc., produces top-quality, American-made firearms of various kinds, but they specialize in lever-action rifles and carbines.  Of these, the Marlin 336 is the flagship model.  It has been in constant production since 1948, and is made of walnut and steel.  Most are chambered for .30-30 Winchester, which in gunspeak is the "jack-of-all-trades" caliber.  This cartridge has been harvesting game since 1895.  It's a near-perfect blend of power, speed, range, and moderate recoil.  It's pretty good for most any game animal in North America, sans the great bears, and it works pretty well for hogs.  If you get a solid head or neck shot, any hog out there is bacon.  Some of the big boars may soak up a round or two if you hit the shoulder shield, especially if you're outside the effective range of this cartridge (say 175-200 yards).  A gut shot with any cartridge is effectively torturing the poor beast and will not result in a quick kill.

To calibers. Most American hunters own and use .30 caliber hunting rifles: your .30-30 Winchester, .308 Winchester and the ubiquitous .30-06 Springfield being chief among these. Each of these has killed a mountain of feral hogs, and in the hands of a patient, deliberate shooter, they can be very adequate indeed. However, wild hog hunting can often be a messy enterprise, and deliberate shots are not always readily available, as in the case of a charge.

Once you get above .30 caliber, the average Joe hunter is a little less familiar. The main reason for this is that the quintessential American big game animal is the whitetailed deer, and always has been. The above cartridges are best suited for targets in the general weight range of a whitetailed deer, or a human being for that matter ( the .308 Win and .30-06 were each originally designed as military cartridges). Clearly though, feral pigs are not in the same class as whitetail deer when it comes to toughness and degree of difficulty to bring down. Larger calibers that may be a little heavy for deer can really come into their own against hogs.

Oh, doctor.

Many folks use the 45-70 Government cartridge (pictured above) for hogs, often shot out of a Marlin lever action rifle. I've never used this caliber, but I've read and heard enough to have faith in it. Flinging 300-500 grains of lead at relatively slow velocity is a recipe for massive penetration, regardless of thick hide and tough shoulder bones. The 45-70 is often used as protection in grizzly country; even the largest feral swine should present no particular problem. If you must go bigger than the .30 caliber class of cartridges, a short, handy Marlin lever-action Guide Gun in 45-70 Gov't might be a great choice for busting hogs.

Most of my hog hunting has been with the .30-30 levergun, and I highly recommend it.  I am intrigued by other cartridges, calibers and rifle platforms as well.  I'd love a nice Winchester Model 70 in .30-06, or a Marlin Guide Gun in 45-70, or a Ruger No. 1 in 375 H & H.  I haven't had a chance to hunt with these guns, but the road is long and the hogs are many. 

I've learned most of what I know about firearms from Guns and Shooting Online, in my mind the best firearms website out there.  See www.chuckhawks.com for more info.

Just keep huntin.

Sunday hunt, 06/05/2012. One bullet, two hogs.

Another river bottom hunt, this time with Little Joe along.  Again, we were able to get very close to several hogs in the incredibly thick brush (under 10 yards), and again, we were stymied by the wall of vegetation.  There was just no shot to be had.  There were times when I could see flitters of movement, a patch of hide here, an ear twitch there, and I wondered if a heavy brush-busting spear would not be a better option than the scoped .30-30 carbine I carried.  I'm serious.

 

One particularly intense moment came when we jumped a group of pigs on a small bluff overlooking the river.  The crashing noise they made through the undergrowth sounded like we were chasing bull bison through the brush, not 100 pound pigs.  We followed with haste, bending low to avoid branches and plowing through matted briars, and eventually we came to the lip of the bluff, with Old Man River flowing placidly ten feet beneath us.  We'd passed up the hogs.  Working back to our starting point, we determined that they must have stopped their retreat in an especially hellish thicket and let us pass by, within 10 yards of their overgrown fortress.  Approaching cautiously to test that theory, we picked up their musky, sweet smell.  They were in there.  Adrenalin flowed and a myriad of thoughts raced through my mind ("This will make a kickass blog entry!"), and then....we lost them.  As we approached to within five yards, still unable to see pig but able to hear them, smell them, hell, we could almost taste them, but.....no shot.  I'm not the kind of hunter that blazes away into the brush at unseen animals.  That's irresponsible, especially if you have a hunting partner along, and wounding a wild pig of any size in close quarters is asking for trouble.  Well.  They rushed out the backside of the Hell Thicket, a merry chase ensued, but, alas, no shot presented itself.  So, heads hung in defeat, Little Joe and I left the river bottom and went fishing on a shallow lake about a half mile from the river. 

As we stared at the motionless bobber in the tepid, tea-colored water, I thought I'd wander down the path a little ways for some target practice.  Since I hadn't been able to shoot at a pig, I felt the need to pop a few lily pads.  Not wanting to scare off Little Joe's fishing prospects, I moseyed off a couple hundred yards.  Turning a bend in the road, I saw a shape flitting around on the path ahead.  I went to a knee and brought up the scope.  Pig.  It didn't see me, but it was rooting around on the shoulder of the path and was moving around quite a bit.  As I was carrying a Marlin .30-30 carbine with a 16.5" barrel with a fixed 2 power Weaver scope, it was no slam-dunk of a shot.  I waited for a neck shot, held my breath and squeezed off.  Bang/flop.  The pig dropped as if hit by lightning and didn't twitch a muscle.  Yelling for Little Joe, who dropped his fishing rod and arrived promptly, we approached the downed pig slowly.  It's the "dead" ones that jump up and bite your face off.  We counted 90 paces from where I shot to the downed pig.  Not bad shooting, if I may say so myself!

If you squint, you can see two dead hogs.

This porker had been hit three inches behind the ear with a 170 grain Remington Core-Lokt bullet and was down for good.  The real treat of the deal, though, was the smaller hog lying dead not three feet from him!  The slug had passed through the first pig's spinal column and exited, striking another, unseen porker just above the left eye.  Two dead pigs, one bullet spent!

Little Joe.

Neither pig was very big- one was about 50 pounds, the other about 30.  Perfect eating size.  Unfortunately, we had no cooler with us and no ice, and we were several miles from the nearest highway.  As it was around 97 degrees in the shade, the prospects of salvaging the meat was slim at best.  Our loss would be the boon of the alligators, the catfish, and perhaps even other hungry hogs.  I hate wasting resources at any time, especially in the outdoors, and here was a couple dozen pounds of prime pork that would go to waste.  It bothers me still, and next time I will be better prepared to properly harvest the meat.  Lesson learned.

Another lesson to take from today's experience:  pass throughs.  Be always, always, always aware of what is behind your target. 

All in all, a great hunt and a wonderful day with Little Joe. 

Just keep huntin.

River Hunt, 05/27/2012

Old Man River

Today I hunted the river bottom.  Never mind which one-- all rivers are more or less the same.  They're pure magic.  Few things feel more ancient, rythmic, or primitive than does a tangled, wild river.  This particular river, like many of its kind, has low, muddy banks which are choked with a vast, impenetrable jungle-like forest.  It is, literally, hog heaven.

I said in the first post that tactics are important.  Today I took my own advice.  I thought out my hunt before commencing operations.  I wasn't out for a stroll with gun in hand, hoping to get lucky.  I was hunting hogs, and there were critical factors to consider.

First and foremost- time of day.  I had a few hours of free time smack in the middle of a very hot day.  There was no cloud cover, no rain predicted, nor any other form of relief.  It was just going to be hot, plain and simple.  Time of day is the number one factor to take into account when planning a hunt, especially if your time is limited, because it dictates what the hogs will be doing while you're hunting.  In the middle of a hot day, hogs will be bedded down in the deepest, most hellishly thick undergrowth they can find.  Also, they won't be far from water.  River bottom country.

Second- food supply.  Hogs are never far from food.  When scouting, you'll see literally acres and acres of torn-up ground, overturned mast on the forest floor, or fields that look like they've been tilled with artillery shells.  Unfortunately, those are piss-poor places to hunt hogs during the day.  99% of that sign was made at night, especially if those hogs have ever been hunted before.   During the day, you've got to go find them in their bedrooms.  However, they generally don't sleep far from feeding areas.

My general plan was to hike to the river from my pickup truck and walk/crawl/hack my way along Old Man River as he flows southward.  This particular river, in this particular area, is a very winding river.  In several places it winds back on itself, creating a large U shape.  There are lots of neat little peninsualas to explore, but they are generally too exposed to do any serious boar hunting on.  Make dandy campsites, though.

I'd spent an hour or so making my way through the brush, popping out on the exposed river bank a time or two to watch the water flow by.  I decided to leave the river proper and walk in a perpendicular direction (east) to the direction of the river's course (north to south).  This meant leaving even the meagre openness afforded by the river's edge and entering the Green Hell.  And hell it was.  My legs are a true testament to the fact that in my part of the world, everything stings, sticks, or scratches.  I tried to walk as quietly as possible, but this is not stealthy country.  I was all too aware that I was crashing through the brush like a bumbling idiot, but experience has taught me that pigs will often ignore a noisy approach.  I'm not sure if they have shitty hearing or if I sound a lot like another pig crashing around, but in any event, I wasn't worried.  I'd fumbled my way right up on them before.

And I did again today.  I heard a noise and saw a patch of black flit among the branches at my 10:00, and I knew it was hogs.  I tightened the grip on my gun and high-kneed it through some brambles.  I mentally marked a big stump about six yards in front of me in case I needed to get back to that place.  Once I'd gotten to about spitting distance from the stump, I realized that it was a broad, dirty, shitty, black ass.  It was a huge sow, apparently as deaf as the stump I'd mistaken her for.  I was too surprised to do much but stand agape, and by the time I'd collected myself, she'd vanished.

I know, dear reader, that you may wonder whether I have any shred of the huntsman in me, if I can walk up close enough to a sow-pig to slap her rump, and not be able to shoot her, when in fact that was entirely my reason for standing in that spot in the first place.  Unless you've hunted hogs in the thick stuff, I understand your doubts.  But please believe me when I say that there is no hunting like going after something that can be twice your weight, at least as smart as you are in its own environment, and can absolutely vanish when it wants to.  This pig just dropped into a hole in the earth, never to be seen again.  I couldn't even chase it.  Truth be told, I wasn't even sure which direction it ran off in.  I walked and walked, and walked.  Nothing.  All I knew at that point was that I was pretty sure she wasn't sitting on me.

This was a large dry sow, but she wasn't huge.  Maybe 220-225 pounds.  Probably more than I weigh.  But she was able to dissapear so quickly and quietly that I was left standing alone in the woods doing my best Elmer Fudd.  I had to wonder, was she watching me?  The old bitch.

Another thing about going toe-to-toe in close quarters: you can smell them.  Once you've walked in their bedding areas a few times, or have been in extremely close proximity to them, you get to know their smell.  It's kind of sweet, very pungeant, and unmistakable.  Sometimes you're walking along and suddenly smell them but never see them, and that's freaky as hell.  You know they're there, somewhere.  Lurking in the shadows.

Even though I never found her and didn't make a kill, I didn't leave emptyhanded.  What a rush!  The predatory juices were flowing- the state you slip into in which you're temporarily relieved of the pains of being a man because you're thinking and acting as a beast.  Scary, but true.  And powerful.

Upon sober reflection, there are a couple of equipment issues to consider that arose from this encounter.  The first- the need for gloves, even in the blasted heat.  My hands were so sweaty, especially after sighting the huge ass, that I questioned whether or not I could hold my rifle properly.  Absolutely not something you want to think about while you navigate impossible brush in unreasonable haste in pursuit of a potentially lethal animal.  So, I need some leather shooting gloves.  Second- the caliber of my gun.  This is really a whole nuther article, and probably will be.  Being a dyed-in-the-wool traditionalist (I'm American, by God), I own and hunt with a Marlin 336 lever-action carbine chambered for the hoary old .30-30 Winchester.  I love that gun.  It's the first and only centerfire rifle I've ever bought.  The litany of superlatives that can be told of this rifle and cartridge can fill a whole nuther article (and probably will), but I must admit that for a while there today, it felt a bit small.  I have no doubt that I could have killed that dry sow with my .30-30, as I've killed a couple dozen of her cousins with this cartridge, but I do wonder about its ability to stop a close-range charge with authority. 

Just keep huntin.

Here's to rivers.

Brass Tacks: Why hunt hogs?

Why hunt hogs? 

Well, if you're already a hunter, you understand that hunting is a multi-layered pursuit.  Preparation for a hunt can be every bit as pleasing and as satisfying as the hunt itself.  You get to research equipment, fret over different calibers, broadheads, attractants, etc.  Many pleasant hours can pass this way, and it's especially nice to share in the process with other likeminded hunters.  Next comes the scouting process:  locating water holes, feeding areas, game trails, and setting up your stands.  This is where the real strategy is laid down, where all your experience and hard-earned hunting knowledge is crystallized into the perfect plan.  The hunt itself can be pure magic.  The smell and taste of the moist, cool evening.  The dappled light fading from the forest floor.  The first twitch of movement in the brush that the predatory part of your brain identifies as quarry far before the rest of you can catch up.  The seconds draw out to hours when the animal is stepping into view.  All the crap that may be going on in the rest of your life is a million miles away.  This feeling is why we hunt.

That's hunting in general.  Hog hunting is great for precisely the above reasons, just amplified by 1000%.  It's hunting in its most raw, most pure manifestation.  Hog hunting is different than such narrow specialty species such as, say, pronghorn.  Pronghorn are encountered in a very extreme environment (wide open spaces) and usually require very specialized equipment (ultra-long range rifles).  It's kind of a niche hunt.  Hog hunting, however, takes place in every possible environment:  swamps, fields, mountains, and sometimes suburban lawns.  Likewise, the equipment for hunting hogs runs the gamut:  rifles in calibers from 22 LR to .416 Rigby, all sorts of handguns, shotguns, bows, crossbows, knives, even spears.   It's a very easy-access sport.

And it is a sport.  Sometimes, it's a very dangerous sport.  Unlike most game animals, hogs can and will bite back.  They truly are dangerous game.  There are hogs roaming around out there in excess of 500 lbs.  That's the size of a small cow.  An old boar that big will have hide on its shoulders that can stop many bullets and bend arrows, and his tusks may measure 6" long.  But in my experience, the smaller, more common boars in the neighborhood of 150 pounds are the real fighters.  These guys are often aggressive when encountered up close, and they are tremendously powerful and agile.  Hunting hogs can be a serious adrenalin rush, and can make deer hunting seem boring by comparison.

A worthy adversary.

In the last 15 or 20 years, the feral hog population has skyrocketed across the country.  All of the South, including Texas, is absolutely full of hogs.   Areas of New Hampshire and New York State have verified breeding populations, as do parts of Michigan's Upper Peninsuala.  Much of California is chock-full of hogs as well.  Since this is such an adaptable animal and has demonstrated a tremendous ability to exist in very close contact with human development, the sky is the limit when forecasting their future range.  Some armchair zoologists believe that the introduction of Eurasian boars, imported several decades ago as an exotic game species, has altered the DNA in feral populations to allow a sow to produce multiple litters per year.  Since there's very little published scientific data on feral hog populations, the reasons behind the tremendous population growth remain shrouded in mystery.  One thing is certain, though- feral hogs are here to stay.

I'm watching you, schmuck.

The agricultural damage in Texas alone is conservatively estimated to be in excess of $50 million annually (Source: Texas AgriLife Extension Service, Texas A&M University).   This figure does not include damage done in motor vehicle accidents, residential property damage, illnesses transmitted via feral swine, or injuries caused by direct encounters.  Not only are wild pigs fun to hunt, there is a moral and civic imperative to hunt them.

The feral hog has proven itself to be a remarkably exciting, challenging quarry.  Swine can be possessed of a near uncanny intelligence, especially when they've been pressured due to hunting.  You've got to know this animal to have success hunting it.  I've spent days walking through acres and acres of hog sign without sighting a single pig.  In hindsight, my tactics were wrong.  More on tactics later.  Suffice to say while hog populations may be staggering, don't believe for a minute that hunting them is like shooting ducks in a barrel.  This is a thinking man's game animal.

Catch me if you can, bitch.

Just keep huntin.