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.