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:
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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