Well, I was supposed to get out pig hunting with another member here but my plans piled up and I wasn't going to get out. But late last night my 9 year old ran the kind of guilt trip on me that only a kid can. So I gave in and told him I'd take him out but deer hunting has been crud here lately and I don't think he can handle another hunt sitting in the brush not seeing anything. So I asked him if he wanted to try running pigs with me. Normally I don't savvy the idea of taking him out for pigs just because things can go from fun to frantic quick in certain circumstances. But I really wanted to teach him about spot and stalking pigs (my favorite past time) so I picked an area that wasn't to swampy and figured we'd give it an hour or two. I really wanted to do a test run on the back quiver/Vixen combo at the same time. We got to the pine hills along some small creeks and crept down a tank trail. After a ways up on the adjacent hill I saw a black hulk. I stopped and motioned for him to stop and watched, wondering if I was looking at a burnt pine stump or not. Then it moved a few feet and I pointed it out to him (hey, if nothing else I wanted him to at least SEE an animal after all the hunts with nothing). I had him check the wind for us and after determining that it was in out favor I decoded we could give it a go. We picked up our stalk down the trail to close the distance and then got to the hill. At the same time the pig crested the hill and we saw she had a sounder of 8-10 smaller ones with her. I checked the wind again and finding it still in our favor slowed our pace as we climbed the hill. Once we got to the top the weeds and scrub picked up but there were plenty of trails to follow. I slowed the pace but kept going towards where I figured they were heading. After another 50 meters down the game trail I heard them not 30 feet to our right in the scrub. Thankfully it was short scrub and I could see 3 or 4 of the little ones. There was one light brown one in the mix, the rest were the typical black ones. While small, they were my favorite eating size and since I didn't see mom anywhere (she must have busted us and bolted without the littler) I picked the closest one that was milling about in the scrub. I drew, anchored and loosed. Zip, right over its back. But just. The bow was quiet and they didn't detect the shot. Now the test I feared. The re-load from a soft leather back quiver. My hand went up behind my right ear and landed right onto the nock of the next arrow. It slipped right out and onto my string as I repeated the sequence again only pausing a fraction longer at anchor. I shot and heard the gratifying "thwack". That they detected! As the scrub exploded with pigs my 9 year old son got his bargain as pigs came tearing out right toward him (they didn't know we were there, just that where THEY were wasn't good anymore). Impressively my son kept his head and the pigs diverted. Toward the back of the pack was my brown pig. I quickly withdrew another arrow as smoothly as the last though the pigs had made some ground. An errant shot on my part was met with a very expectable deflection on a piece of brush. Pigs gone, commotion over, I marled their direction and went to retrieve my arrows. (I read in Pope's book that a hunter should spend as much time searching for an arrow as it took to make it, and while I didn't make these ones I have made enough to know that its sound advice). Arrow number 1, the miss, was quickly found. After a bit I found arrow two, the hit and it was a bowhunting first for me. The arrow was slick, like oil or grease. From head to nock. The feathers had light blood going down their length, and I mean LIGHT, I barely caught it. The smell was that of a pig, if you know that smell then you know what I mean. I examined the arrow a bit and thought it over. Small pig. 160 grain Stos on a cedar shaft. It HAD passed through, of that I was sure. I saw the hit, forward. Maybe high for a pig, but this was a small pig, they're not hard to stop. The pig didn't squeal at the hit. I put the arrow back in my quiver and looked for the third shot. After a while I found it. Then the boy and I went looking for the pig. Nothing. No blood where I hit it. No blood along their trail. Nothing. Tracking in pine scrub can be tough, but I'm no slouch per say. But I mean nothing. We looked in brush. Down hill. Along water. Nothing. I took the arrow back out and prayed it would divine me a clue, but none were coming. I can only surmise that the hit was perhaps high or far forward and it passed through a fatty tissue that is biologically void of much blood. The pig(s) were gone and our time ran out. It was still a good hunt and a small pig will not last long in the pines. I wish I'd found it, more for my sons sake than any real emotion towards pigs, though to tell it fair I was picturing it in the crock pot after the shot. The back quiver did not disappoint. It was quiet, fast to reload, and allowed me to carry 5 broad heads and 3 bunny busters for the tree mice. I may be sold on it. Well, sorry this got so long, if you made it this far I'd love to hear you opinions on what my arrow hit. Happy hunting.
Topic: Lost a pig (Read 302 times)
