Sorry...been looking for three hours for the dad blamed USB card reader for my camera- ITS AT WORK!!!
Story gonna have to wait for pics tomorrow.
I'll tease you a little more.
We couldn't even start out till around 6pm..just too hot. But with it getting dark around 830-845 pm that was plenty of time to get soaked walking around.
Scissor-Tailed Kites, scarlet tanagers, Indigo buntings, painted buntings, wood ibis, great blue heron, turkeys, a bobcat- all in the first hour of walking toward my spot.
In between wildlife sightings and cruising toward my destination I imitated a russian sub- by doing what US submariners call a "crazy Ivan"- just shut down in mid stride and listen for any sound of enemy vessels, or in my case-hogs, around me. It was frankly just too hot for them yet though.
I piddled around, took my time looking at my feet as much as my surroundings, searching for a piece of man-worked chert. The property was a quarry for native americans for hundreds of years- most of the stuff we find is just broken chips and leavings- they carried off the fine materials to work later, but we do luck up once in a while and end up with some nice pieces and lots of pottery.
Around 730pm, thunderheads scattered around the horizon, the sun moving lower, and the temperature starting to drop all signaled things should be getting better.
I worked slowly past all the wet places near Blue Lake, eliminating them one by one until I reached the last set of puddles, and then I heard it: bubbles!
Hogs grubbing around for morsels in water blow bubbles- its a very distinctive sound. I homed in on their location and noticed the high grass moving erratically, back and forth- I knew something was about to happen.
I drew an arrow out of the quiver and placed it on the string, and got ready. The wind had been a steady cross-wind but just then I felt it on the back of my neck!
Instantly the bubbles stopped, a choppy grunt was uttered, and a hog stepped into the dirt road, giving me the evil eye!
I drew and released in one motion- the arrow was moving perfectly out of Mamba- my new black risered Schafer Silvertip TD recurve- when the hog leapt from a standing stop to move across the road and down slope to the edge of the swamp and Blue Lake. But the arrow was just a little too quick- it was like a slow motion movie with the hog leaping - they always do that- looking like the horses in Native American paintings- front and back legs moving in a big arc under the hog - at least that's what they look like to me and it's my story- anyway, the arrow hit the hog in the middle- right through the spine- instead of where it was headed- on the point of the shoulder- and dropped the 100 lb pig like a stone into the ditch on the far side of the road.
I quickly dispatched it with a second arrow and everything went still. I spent the next 5 or 10 minutes listening to the sound of a flock of turkeys rising to roost, and an alligator grumbling somewhere off in the swamp, while I calmed myself from the rush of adrenaline that always comes when I'm in close quarters with game.
Topic: Flyin' butcher knives of death and the Mamba Strikes- a hog hunting story (Read 1949 times)
