I was a little surprised to see my buddy Styme's truck when I came in the gate. I saw where he had unloaded his 4 wheeler so I was sure he had gone to one of the stands in the creek bottom. I parked my truck and headed out for a tripod stand about a 1/2 mile in. Much to my dismay, when I topped the long hill I found Styme's 4 wheeler. He was already in the tripod. It was still 3 hours before dark so I headed west to a stand in a big power line.
I was about a hundred yards from the stand when hogs came pouring out from both sides of the clearing two big sows, eight or ten forty pounders and one big boar. I was stuck out in the open with nothing to do but hunker down and wait. I was hoping they would pass my way, headed to the stand Styme was in. Nothing would have given me any more pleasure than to whack a hog before it got to him. Just helping a buddy out, it would save him dulling a broadhead as well as having to clean a hog in the heat.
After about 10 minutes they left headed up the hill. We have another feeder set up about a mile to the south so I double timed it back up the hill hoping to beat them to it. I had just turned down the trail leading to the stand when I heard a fight break out; they had beaten me to the feeder. My tongue was hanging out and I had soaked my shirt through in the June heat, running back and forth between the three stands.
This time I did have a little cover so I dropped my pack, video camera, tripod and other assorted equipment that I can’t seem to get along with out. Duck walking forward, I slipped an arrow from the quiver. Keeping my eye on the big sow, I put the starvation slid on the hogs as the splashed and fought under the feeder. I was still twenty five yards away when the sow figured me out and with a deep growl headed away in a trot. Years of hunting hogs has shown me that when a sow says “Let’s go” that’s it so I was surprised when one of the eating size pigs circled back. It only took a second for the rest of the little ones to join him in the mud hole.
When the whole world blurred out but for a shinny place on the side of one facing away from me I knew I could make the shot, even though it was a little further than I like. Holding a couple of extra seconds I felt my back burn as the string slipped away with no conscious thought from me. The 74# Black widow buried the 700 grain arrow to the feathers. I backed up to a tree and waited a long 30 minutes before taking up the trail. She had made it about 30 yards into the brush with the arrow going in behind the ribs on one side and out in front of the off side shoulder. As luck would have it Styme had killed a nice sow himself so I didn’t mess him up as much as I had hoped. I don’t know what turns the hogs on in the early summer but this was the third year in a role that they had moved in on us and I do love chasing them around.
Topic: Hogs are taking over (Read 838 times)
