Great to see you back from the Sweat, Shaun! Not only looking forward to great stories about that hunt, but wanted you to be around to talk about the gimpy-legged boar.
I originally ran across him when I was still-hunting along the river. First I bumped a couple of 150 pound boars out of their beds. I didn't see them until they stood up, as they'd been laying on the far side of a clump of bushes. We played hide and seek for couple minutes in the thick stuff. No chance for a shot before they tired of the game and headed straight up a ridge into a thicket.
The encounter made me even more cautious, hoping that I'd found the local hogs' bedroom. I slipped along another fifty or sixty yards and through the grass and greenbriar vines
and saw something twitch. It sure looked black and hairy, but I couldn't make it out. It flapped one more time and I realized it was a very large ear belonging to a massive hog.
Not quite sure of which way he was facing, I eased up to about 18 yards. The wind was perfect - a steady breeze into my face, so I settled onto my knees, bow up, to wait for the hog to finish his nap and stand. That didn't take long, though, as a mob of bluejays went berserk over something close to the river.
The hog jumped up and was into cover in a flash. He relaxed pretty quickly, though, and through a screen of young mesquites and greenbriars I watched him scratch, flop his ears, and take a long piss. There was something obviously wrong about his gait, though, and it became clear he was favoring his right rear leg.
For about ten minutes I got to watch the big guy do his mid-afternoon routine. It was a real treat to watch an undisturbed hog do all of his leisurely hoggy things, but there was always an arrow on the string. I wanted to let it fly.
The boar ambled out of the thick stuff into an open lane. He parked himself there in the warm sun, facing straight away from me. All I could see was his backside, which looked the size of a #3 washtub. The debate between my ears was loud and boisterous. Two, maybe three times I started to draw, but couldn't convince myself to shoot.
He moved back behind scrub bushes and snuffled around. I don't what alerted him, but he stiffened and became aware of me. With only three good legs to move all that bulk, he jiggled impressively fast up the steep slope into the thick stuff. And I mean acres of "get on your knees and crawl" kind of thick stuff.
Not a place to follow.
Here's a photo of his bed. I think he used it regularly -- maybe daily. The bow is 64" and it almost fits...
I went back in there twice more over the coming days and both times came face to face with a coyote. I suspect he was checking on the hog, too.
On the afternoon of the big snow, Shawn and I went back to that stretch of bottomland. Shawn headed uphill while I made a loop along the river. I found this:
The big guy was out and about. The tracks looked brand new. After a few more steps, there were turds -- still steaming. He couldn't be more than a couple minutes ahead of me. Arrow on the string, fingers split around the nock, eyes ahead for movement. God, it's good to be alive.
Another 100 yards and new tracks crossed the hog trail -- Shawn! I could see that he'd stepped across the boar's tracks and immediately taken a right turn to follow them. This is going to be good... Go get him, buddy!
I took one more look around the creek bottom before heading back to the truck. Shawn was there waiting. Hard to say who was more pumped. It's great to go a round with a big boar, but it's worlds better when your hunting partner gets in on the action, too.
The boar was standing broadside on the upper bench when Shawn shot. Not much there to help gauge the distance.
Topic: PIG GIG--Week 1 ---***SNAKE PICS ADDED*** (Read 11373 times)
