This pecan grove seemed custom-made for hog hunting. Besides sprinkling a lot of corn under the trees, Shawn and I corned the road all the way to the stone wall. We also dribbled some along the hog trails that came out of the bottoms. No matter which way the wind blew (and it changed almost daily), there was a great set-up.
On Wednesday, Shawn and I drove there to check on the corn. It was about the middle of the afternoon and we didn't expect to see any animals. Of course, there was a nice boar under the pecans. It was white with black spots along its lower sides. When it saw us, it turned to leave, but was none too fast about it. It really wanted that corn.
On Thursday afternoon, we were back there early. Shawn took a spot near the stone wall where many hogs -- very big ones -- had been moving through and hitting a bait pile there. The wind was out of the east, so I sat across from the pecan trees in the open field. There were some mesquites along the road that formed a natural blind for me.
It wasn't long before I saw the white boar come up out of the bottoms. He was taking a corned trail that ran along the north side of the pecans. He was taking his sweet time, trying to suck up every last kernel. I saw the opportunity to cut the distance, so screened by a downed pile of timber, I slipped up to about 25 yards. It was incredibly tempting to let an arrow fly: he was broadside without a clue I was there. But if he continued feeding down the trail, he'd quarter away from me at less than 18 yards. I decided to wait.
Have you heard the saying, "Perfect is the enemy of good"? At just under 20 yards, as the hog was still screened by some small limbs, I moved my bow tip ever so slightly, maybe 6 inches. The spotted hog caught it, looked hard at me, whirled and was gone, running back into the bottoms. There are folks who say hogs have poor vision, but not that hog. Spot's eyesight is 20/20.
I went back to my stool in the pasture, but didn't have long to wait. The spotted hog was back, but this time he took a trail along the south side of the pecans. He went to the north-south road and started eating corn. I knew he'd follow it: if he went south, he'd go to Shawn. North, and I'd have another go. He went north!
The mesquites made a pretty good screen, so I again moved closer. At 15 yards, Spot was still unaware of me. This time my bow was up and I was ready to draw. One small limb with some spines and twigs screened his vitals. Another step or two and I could shoot. The wind, which had been gentle but steady all afternoon, now dropped. It was followed by a subtle swirl and Spot was gone.
I went back to the stool in the pasture. The sun was still two fingers above the horizon, so there was plenty of time for more hogs to hit the corn. Thirty minutes later, I saw a form slipping through tall grass. Spot was back yet again, heading for the corned road. He knew I was out there somewhere, though, and he frequently looked in my direction. I knew Shawn had to see him, too, so moving slow and only taking a baby step or two at a time, I herded Spot down the road.
I'm reluctant to finish this part, as the rest of this chapter rightfully belongs to Shawn. I'll just say this much: Shawn moved his bow tip ever so slightly and Spot saw it. That hog might be a slow learner and a glutton, but he's got damn good eyes.
The next day, Friday, I enjoyed yet another go-round with the same hog. More about that later...
Topic: Pig Gig Update (Read 1748 times)
