The Hog Hunt of Love

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Every hunt has a specific part of it that makes it truly unique from other hunts I've gone on over the years. This hunt brought together my four closest hunting buddies at a time in our lives when we were still excitable and irresponsible and remains one of my funnest memories of my teenage years.

It all began when we decided to find a place to hunt feral hogs. We looked into all sorts of places from Florida to Texas and even the Carolinas. We settled on a place in southern Ohio a good 3 hours from where I lived at the time. This was an exotic animal ranch, and given the way it operated, have a respect for the behavior of the animals in this location even given the infamy of this type of hunting. What can I say, I was extremely young, penniless and ready to tear the world up. Even though now the idea of a similar hunting trip is quite lackluster.

We met at my house the night before the hunt. Needless to say we lacked accommodations for 4 guests, so out of stubborness, Kurt climbed into my bed. And out of stubborness, I fought for my own bed. That is, until he started to spoon me. The floor worked just fine for me that night.

This was our first time hunting anything other than deer or turkey, so it was quite a new experience for all of us. My best friend Kurt, and I were hunting with our 30-06's (illegal for deer hunting in Ohio, so these guns were nearly untested) My friend Chris was using a flintlock smokepole he built himself, Devon used a Kimber 1911 in .40 SW and Joe used a .270.

As soon as we walked into the woods, Kurt and I, inseparable as always, planted our bodies deep within some down timber with which was our custom. Devon, Joe and Chris set up next to a water hole. Before my butt was firmly planted on the log, I looked to my right and caught a glimpse of a hog fleeing from the opposite side of the down timber. With a snap shot, I put one bullet in him, and finished him with another.

The morning drew on and no other gun shots were heard. Nearly time for lunch, I heard a distant pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. 7 shots in all rang from Devon's 1911. There were 6  very well placed shots in his pig. Any one of them would have done the job, he just chose to put enough lead in him to make sure he couldn't stand up again.

As we started moving down the hill for lunch, I heard a POOF. We hastened our pace to meet up with Chris and see the victory smile over his pig. Once we got there, we were informed that the hit was poor and we would require tracking. We made the decision to push the hillside to find the wounded pig. We pushed 100 yards and a good sized porker popped out of the brush and turned and charged me, then turning up hill towards the rest of the party. My friend Kurt hollered "Is that one hit?" As I got the "NNNN..." portion of "NO" out of my mouth, Kurt opened fire and dropped the hog just a few yards from me.

We pushed on another 100 yards. Two hogs came out of the brush, one bloody in the neck from a poorly placed intended lung shot from Chris' kentucky rifle. Neither hog lasted long outside of their cover. Chris finished his hog and Joe found his own.

We proudly returned home with our meat. I dug a hole in the sand next to my dad's creek and we built a fire to smoke my pig with. After the fire was stoked properly and the other boys were tending it, Kurt and I proceeded in my jeep to Cleveland to pickup libations for the festivities. The kind that come in a large steel canister. I will forgo this side story but will remark, that we completely re-lived a smoky and the bandit story that night, making even Sawyer Brown proud as we crossed the county line at 90 mph.

I realized now, that boredom is a dangerous thing! Exotic hunting can be fun, but is not likely something I will try a second time.

PICTURED:

BOTTOM: me, Joe, Kurt

TOP: Chris, Devon

Foreground: Our hogs.

Comments

ManOfTheFall's picture

It sounds like you guys all

It sounds like you guys all had a blast. I have never done that and probably will. You guys went out and did something you love to do and had a great time. That is all that really matters. Great story. I enjoyed reading it. 

groovy mike's picture

I still wonder about the title of this story!

I still wonder about the title of this story! But everything we do is a learning experience.  We all have hunts that we would do differently.  Learning is part of getting better at what we do.  Ndemiter and Hunter – you guys have nothing to be ashamed of hunting exotics on a ranch or a preserve or any other operation.  It is not the same as hunting a free range white tail but it is nothing to be ashamed of.  I think of hogs as food animals not game animals so whether you kill them in a pen or put them out in a thousand acre pasture and shoot them – its all good pork for the freezer to my way of thinking.  Nothing to regret there at all.  Since Russian boar and similar wild swine are not native species and not allowed to free range wherever government can kill them off, I don’t see this as being entirely different than hunting bison on a reservation or even a management hunt inside somewhere like Yellowstone.  It’s an artificial boundary because we no longer live in a natural world without borders.  I have hunted from Alaska to Africa and from Maine to Washington and I would not hesitate to book a hunt for hogs on a ranch that raises them whether in Texas, Pennsylvania, or Ohio.

Arrow-flipper – you are right – looking back, sometimes I am amazed that I survived childhood – let alone my teenage years!

hunter25's picture

One of my earliest hunts

One of my earliest hunts besides deer hunting was on a preserve as well. At the time I didn't even know what that meant so it slowed me down not at all. I don't know how I talked my dad into it but we stopped in Pennsylvania on the way home to Michigan while on vacation and let me kill a exotic ram of some sort. I still have the mount he had done for me but it sure don't look very good anymore. I almost threw it away a couple of time being slightly emberassed about the preserve thing now that I'm older but in thinking about it decided it was actually a learning and growing experience for me and the memories are all good.

Like you I would not do it again but no longer regret doing it then. The feeling of exhileration at that age from my success was great.

arrowflipper's picture

being young

Oh, the fun of being young!  And the fun of doing stupid things.  And the fun of being alive long enough to look back on them and smile.  Thanks for a fun story.  I've only been on a couple of hog hunts but I'd sure love to do a few more.  I got skunked on my first one down in Texas but collected a puny little runt hog in Mississippi with my bow.  Hey, I didn't care.  It was a hog.

Telling your story brings back lots of memories of crazy things we did when we were younger.  It's a wonder some of us are still alive today.  I've always been very careful around firearms, but maybe not so careful of where we went.  I've hunted in places that there were only two directions; straight up or straight down.  And we skipped all over that place like we didn't have a care in the world.  I think back on it now and wonder how we ever survived.

How was the hog meat?  It sounded like you smoked the whole thing in the ground.  Did you eat it immediately or put some in the freezer?  Is it as tender as domestic pig or tough?  I ground my little porker up and made Cajun boudin balls with it.  They were delicious and no one ever questioned the wild meat part.

Congratulations on a wild and fun hunt.  Great picture.

 

ndemiter's picture

i didn't notice that the meat

i didn't notice that the meat was tougher. but it was leaner than domestic hog. so the meat ended up a little dryer than normal, but it was excellent.

we smoked the pig a few days later. we burnt the hair off, and did the whole pig in the ground. absolutely fantastic!