Chasing the Black Seven at the Pig Gig

[Gatekeeper]

First off I apologize for not having pictures to go with this tale. I know pictures are an important part of our stories and they help tell the tale, but I simply forget to take pictures when I’m hunting alone so this story will be void, for the most part, of photos.

Tom

[Gatekeeper]

February, February, February…it’s T-I-M-E! Time to head south! Time to see my friends Barry and Gene, time to hunt pigs…it’s time for the Pig Gig! I’d been waiting for this hunt since the end of last year’s Pig Gig. A full week of pig hunting what could be better?

With the F250’s bed overflowing with gear I point the Beast’s nose south and let the power of the diesel motor carry me to the promise land of mesquite brush, prickly pear and feral hogs…Texas! …South Texas! …To this year’s hunt, hunt #3 Rancho Seco, which lies about an hour south of San Antonio…let the fun begin! My goal…to kill a pig while sharing a camp with the Wensel boys.

After some minor misdirection’s and some guidance from Jeff (Badnewsbear) I arrived and was greeted with a warm welcome to my new home for the week.
Once the basic orientation was over we headed out to get a feel for the land we were going to be hunting. First impression…T-H-I-C-K and prickly! I’ve heard tales about south Texas and from what I was seeing it’s all true. Everything that grows is prickly, all the insects will sting you and the animals will bit you. To sum it up we’re going to bleed and take souvenirs back home with us that will be embedded under our skin…bring it on!

My chosen hunting ground, on the 6500 acre ranch, was known as Encourager, Louisiana, and No Name Pond. I’m not sure how I ended up with all of these places other than saying, “I’ll take it”, but that was my hunting ground. My plan…start hunting at 00:00:01 on Monday morning and at 23:30 I walked out of camp...

[Gatekeeper]

Leaving behind the glow of the dusk to dawn lights that shine over the camp, I let the night’s darkness swallow up my shape as I moved farther down the camp road. With the full moon beginning to wane, there was plenty of light illuminating my surroundings to do spot and stalk hunting. Prowling the ranch roads would be my tactic and glassing the surrounding terrain looking for dark forms that moved and listening for subtle hog noises nearby or hog fighting sounds in the distance was the plan for locating my prey. From gravel road to the two track roads I moved glassing and listening for my quarry moving slowing and stopping frequently to dissect the newly discovered lands.

Sometime later, an hour and half or so later, I stopped at No Name Pond where I slipped out of my pack’s shoulder straps to lay down in the dry vegetation near the water’s edge. Laying at a slight incline I could oversee the pond and spy on any critters that might slip up to its edge for a drink. Using the pack as a pillow I laid my head back closed my eyes under the clear sky and listened to the night’s sounds. With the exception of an occasional coyote pack sounding off and the sound of the steady cool breeze that hummed through surrounding trees and brush, all was quiet. I wasn’t hearing ANY hog noises. Lying near the pond I found myself in a calm state, my muscles relaxed, my body grew heavy and I drifted into shallow sleep.

I awaken less than 30 minutes later to the sound of my own snore and chuckle to myself. Feeling refreshed after the short nap and eager to continue I slip back into the pack’s straps and continue the hunt. Eventually, (I forget the time) I spot, through the binoculars, a dark form against the lighter vegetation ahead. I estimated the distance to be 200+ yards. Its shape, size and the fact that it wasn’t stationary told the tale…Hog ahead!

With the wind blowing over my right shoulder and angling out to my front left I wondered if the hog had winded me. Not wanting to let this opportunity pass and figuring I had nothing to lose if it had winded me, I picked up the pace to close the gap between us. Being mindful of my footfalls as I carefully moved over the loose gravel, the distance was soon closed to 25 yards. The hog at this time had moved away from the edge of the road, no longer down wind and now feeding in the mix of dry grass, low brush and cactus I knew that I had gone as far as I could. Moving any closer to it would give my position away. It was time to be patient and put myself on hog time and let the hog come to me. Oblivious to my presents I listened eagerly to the low guttural grunts and groans of contentment that the hog made as it fed along the edge of the thick brush. Studying the animal I concluded it to be a loan boar and estimated its weight to fall within the 130 – 150 pound range. Time ticked by and eventually a combination of growing impatient and the eagerness of wanting to bring a hog in the first night crept in and overpowered my will to “let the hog come to me” So much for “hog time”.

Having hunted hogs at night before I’ve learned, or so I thought, that the animal will startle when they are first lit up by a flashlight. I guess that’s only normal I think I would have to scoop my skin off the ground and put it back on if someone did this to me. But if the light is shut off immediately the pig will “usually” calm down and return to its previous routine and be relaxed when the light is shined back in its direction. So that’s what I did…bad move! With the activation of the 120 lumens flashlight that was mounted to the bow, the boar wasted no time disappearing into the thick cover that he fed next to. Strike one… What a rookie! As I stood at the roads edge kicking myself for being too pushy I listened as the long drawn out groans made by the hog faded with every step that he put between us…”Time to press on” I muttered.

A short time later (an hour or so) I had another stalk on another loan pig. From its appearance, (size and color) and the fact that it was in the same general location as the pig in my first stalk, I figured that I might be stalking the same pig in a different part of the pasture.

With the wind blowing from right to left in my face I pushed forward, but my advancement was way too noisy. To close the distance between us I needed to navigate a two track road that was lined on its edges and down the center with dry mid thigh high rattlesnake grass. The racket of the grass brushing across my pant legs gave away every move I made and the hog reaction reflected this. He (I assuming it’s the same hog) always kept some kind of obstacle between us and when the obstruction petered out he simply faded into the thick brush that he had been skirting. And again I stood listening as his guttural sounds weaken with distance.

After the two failed stalks I continued to slink around for the rest of the early morning hours, witnessing a thick fog that rolled in around 04:00 which severely restricted my ability to spot and stalk. Blocking out the light of the moon and reducing visibility to 30 yards, I was left with only my ears as a means to zero in on my prey. So I moved from point to point, and set and listened for the sound of hogs… but to my disappointment, no vocalization from hogs was heard.

After the rising of the morning sun and the beginning of a new day, I called off my first hunt at 09:30 and returned to camp to gather reports from my camp mate’s morning adventures, to eat and to sleep…

[Gatekeeper]

To keep from turning this into a boring tale, I’ll describe how most my time was spent here. Most of my days were broken down like this: get up before light and arrive in the field before or right at first light to stalk through the dry brush country. Stalking an animal in this environment would be next to impossible, due to the dry leaves, crunchy ground and the other dry vegetation that had grown thick to make up the bush, but I knew this, so my goal was to find the place that the pigs were spending time. Catching a glimpse of a pig or a sounder or finding fresh sign was the goal and anything else would have been a huge bonus. After finding the place where the pigs are spending their time, I would formulate a plan to setup an ambush in the area later in the day or week and hunt that spot.

During the Pig Gig (this being my third year), as with a lot of hunts, the first two days are spent familiarizing ones self with the surroundings and formulating a plan of attack. Then, the last three days are spent testing ones theories and the traps that have been set. This is the way it works for me anyway. So my mornings were spent scouting and stalking, the afternoons were reserved for baiting (formulating a plan) and evenings for hunting (testing my theories).

During the morning scouts, I kept finding myself back in the area named Louisiana. I’m not sure how the area got its name, but I presume it’s because the vicinity looks to be a low lying region that would hold plenty of water during a wet season.

Like all the areas that I had been in, Louisiana had plenty of hog sign but it was all old. The once muddy bottom linear depression that held water in the past had a chain of abandoned wallows that encircled the now phantom water’s edge. As the heat from the summer sun and the dry Texas air stole the moisture from the water hole, the wallows made by the hogs followed along the receding waterline until the pond and its underlying bed of mud turned into a parched, cracked surface that rendered itself useless to my quarry and was eventually abandoned by them…but for what? What are they attracted to now?

As an added bonus to this area, all of these old water holes were lined with large trunked Live Oaks with expansive canopies that provide ample shade from the Texas heat and under the canopy of some of these trees was a carpeted layer of acorn caps. The place held all of the ingredients for a hog heaven, but the timing, my timing, the season was off. But still…this area just felt right.

To test my theories I decided to bait three sites Encourager, which is a nice size, full pond in an open field that is surrounded by shoulder high weeds and thick brush. I baited this site with my concoction of sour corn on the north end about 20 yards from the tall weeds and I wrapped an old stump with a burlap bag that I had soaked in old motor oil in hopes of creating a hog rub.

The other two spots that I baited were two locations in the Louisiana pasture. One spot was a few yards, but out of sight of a corn feeder. It was in the bed of an old pond that is now overgrown with weeds and has piles of deadfall in its east end. The old pond is surrounded with scrub brush to the north and south and a weed filled drainage that weaves its way to the east which was lined with old growth Live Oaks. The bowl shape just seemed like a natural place to setup an ambush and the cover around the old pond offered several good areas for concealment, which would allow me to play the wind.

The second bait site, I found on the second day of scouting. It is 1/8th of a mile east of the first spot in the Louisiana pasture along the drainage channel that connects to the dry pond at the first bait location. This spot just kind of spoke to me… When I saw it I knew it needed to be baited. The spot was made up of a loan Live Oak tree that grows on the east side of the snaking drainage and on the Live Oak’s north side is a well used game trail that runs east west. To the east of the oak, about 15 yards, is a secondary game trail that runs northeast / southwest. The surrounding terrain is flat and is made up of thick tangled brush to the northeast. The drainage that the Live Oak grows next to stretches to the north where more mature Live Oaks reside and to the east and south are Mesquite and Prickly Pear scrub brush. With the help of Tom Phillips we baited this spot On Tuesday afternoon and walked away…

[Gatekeeper]

The first night I sat the Encourager bait site. I set on the southwest side of the bait and had a northwest wind. At 6:45 I could hear ‘em come’n and from the brush about 30 yards to the north three little pigs popped out. And when I say little I mean little…maybe 20 pounds. Behind them cam the rest of the motley crew…Too funny! I kind of have a thing about shooting a pig longer then my arrow and when this sounder of 18 all made it into the open I knew I was going to be hard pressed to find one that big in this group. I don’t think there was a pig over 60 pounds in bunch. Ha…they sure are cute!

Going off the rumors that pigs have bad eye sight, I stood up behind the tall weed that I was using for cover, to shoot some video…lets put it this way, not all pigs have bad eye sight. Shortly after standing there were 36 beady little eyes staring me down. The one out of the bunch that caught my eye was a little red one with a black mustache. If I was going to shoot, he would be the one. He had a lot of character, feisty, alert and kind of bullish. He had all the makings of a future dominate boar. To put it simply, I liked him!

After they got over the creep in the bushes looking at them, the sounder began to mill about for a few minutes as a string of pork moving about in a serpentine progression with no clear direction. And then, one of the little guys broke from the formation and wandered over to the bait pile. Upon finding the sour corn he foolishly let out an audible signal that created a stampede of pork rind to the sour corn. Instantly there were 18 pigs trying to occupy a 5’ diameter circle…a pig pile! I had no shot. There were way to many bodied packed way to tightly together to take an ethical shot, so I stood in amusement watching the antics of all these young pigs unfold.

As the light began to fade and the food began to be depleted, the pack of pigs started to spread out and it was time to think about shooting. Zeroing in on the little red pig, I followed his movements as he scurried about. Knowing there wasn’t enough light to shoot, I activated the flashlight mounted to the bow and instantly the sounder fled in a shotgun pattern away from me. “WOW” I thought to myself  “these pigs are really jumpy!” “Well I blew that hunt,” I thought as I continued to converse with myself silently. Reclaiming my seat in the weeds I sat in wait, as I would do for every night’s hunt during the week, until 8:00 and then hunted my way back to camp…

[Gatekeeper]

The following night, Tuesday night, I hunted the Louisiana pond bait for the first time. For that evening there was a steady east northeast wind blowing across the bowl which dictated that I sit to the southwest of the bait. This was perfect. The corn feeder, that was described earlier, sits to the northwest of the bait site about 80 yards away and the road that I walked in on lies east of the pond and is a fairly straight north south line.

Decked out in my Rancho Safari Gillie Suit I positioned myself twenty yards from the bait, below the lip of the pond’s dam, behind a thin blow-down pile and in front of a small tree to breakup my form. After a couple of practice shots, that were dead-on, I felt confident with the setup and ready for the night’s action. At 4:00 the wait began. All was quiet until in the pond until around 6:30 when I heard a very low, drawn out, baritone sound that was out of place and following it was a muffled crunching sound. The crunching sound help me zero in on the direction from which it was coming, which was northwest of my location and on the road. I pivoted my head towards the sounds and see three black pigs on the road. My heart begins to race…my quarry is near…within sight! My mind began to race trying to decipher their next move as I watch their body language. Would they step off the road and into the dry pond bed to cross in front of me as they headed for the bait? Do they even know of the bait’s location? Would they spot me when they get near? My mind was firing off thoughts as fast as my heart was racing. I wanted to return to camp with a pig more than anything and this just might be the opportunity.

I set transfixed watching the pigs move about on the road, hoping for a miracle to turn the pig in my direction which quickly turned to concern when the lead pig began strolling south down the road. If it continues much further in its current direction it will cross into my scent stream and the gig would be up. I needed to turn that pig and do it quickly! With no real options and no experience with handling this type of situation I did the first thing that came to mind…squeal like a pig boy! So that’s what I did. Cupping my hands over my mouth I did one short semi loud pig squeal. And with that, the lead pig turned 180 degrees sending it and the other two pigs back towards the feeder. Ned Beatty would have been proud.

After the above incident I set straining my ears listening for the pigs but there were no hog sound striking my eardrums. No grunts, no squeals, no fighting no crunching. “Damn I scared them off” I silently chastised myself. With darkness setting in and having the desire to see what became of the pigs I slinked from my three-legged chair and crept towards the road to find, to my surprise, in the road stood four black pigs. With my curiosity satisfied I crept back to the hide and set in waiting…and set…and set…and set with not pigs to be seen. With the 8 o’clock hour nearing, while sitting in the dark, I removed the Gillie, clinched the bow and snuck my way to the road. At the edge of the road I peered towards the feeder and saw, not three, not four but seven black pigs rooting at its base.

I the blackness I crept s-l-o-w-l-y up the gravel road to the pigs. Trying to stay in the darkened shapes that made up of mesquite brush, I kept my body low so as not to silhouette my form against the lighter sky. From a distance of 40 yards I turned on the light to try and condition the pigs to the light before I got close and unlike the two stalks from earlier that morning the pigs became fidgety in the cone of light but they didn’t bolt. Turning the light off I slinked closer and again turned on the light at a distance of 30 yards…conditions were still good. Off with the light and further advancement brought me within about 25 yards of the herd where I froze. Judge by their erratic and quick moves, I dare not move any closer. They knew I was there but their noses weren’t alerting them of danger, but my advancements were clearly making them edgy. My options were to continue to push my luck and try to get closer, stay put and see if they would calm down or back out and go back to my hide in the old pond. I chose the pond.

Slowly and quietly I crept back to the pond giving the pigs there space in hope that they would come to my bait. Around 8:30 I couldn’t take it any more and went back to the road to spy on the pigs and to my disappointment, they were gone, but I was content with my decision, I felt that I played it right…

[Gatekeeper]

The next night I chose to sit, wearing a gillie suit, in the mesquite bush to the west of the Louisiana feeder. I thought it would be stupid not to sit the feeder since the pigs were coming to it. The steady southwest wind made the setup, in my opinion, marginal. I believed the pigs had been coming from the northeast and as long as they didn’t come to the feeder from straight north via the north south road, the setup should work.

Shortly before dusk pigs busted through the brush to my northeast about 300 yards away, and one by one they emerged into the clearing of the road. Through the binoculars I spied as three of the pigs stood in the middle of the road, ears erect, staring towards the feeder while the rest of the group trotted to the west. My first thought…”crap they’ve smelled me! The road clearing has created a funnel between the east and west mesquite brush that lines the road
and the wind is pushing my scent right to them!” Their gaze was short due to
their desire to stay herded up and to the southwest of me they trotted.

Around 7:15 I heard fighting…pigs were on the bait in the dry pond! “Dang-it!” I cursed. I striped out of the gillie suit, grab my bow and made a light footed run to the pond. From the west I quietly slipped up to the pigs feeding on the corn mash that was set out. Inside the 20 yard mark I stopped. I could barely see their silhouettes against the dark dry soil of the pond bed. It was the black seven from last night! Not wanting to chance getting any closer, I turned on the light and quickly turned it off. Their reaction was perfect! Their greed over powered their concern of the light. Again, I turned on the light, but this time there was an arrow on the string.

The pigs jostled around, each pig intent on consuming more food then their herd mates while I stood behind the light waiting for the first pig to offer a quartering away shot. Wide eyed and anxious I stood with my bow arm out and waiting to feel my string hand hit anchor. And then, as luck would have it, the wind switched and a gust blew from the east causing a wind eddy to swirl in the bed of the pond as the wind passed from the top of the mature Live Oaks and fond the openness of the old pond below, sending my sent right into the herd. With the stench of a predator in their noses, the pigs exploded to the east from the pond bed. At the edge of the thick brush to the southeast a small pig stood on the pond dam at 30 yards in a hard quartering away stance. I drew my bow, hit anchor, studied the shot and then I let down. Ethics, the desire to make a clean kill, reeled me back in. The shot would have been too risky. What a rush!

[Gatekeeper]

Thursday night, as far as animals go, was a bust, but I was invited to ride out with and hunt in one of the stands the Wensel’s had set. COOL how could I pass that up?! On the way to the stand we passed a blind with 6 Javelinas by it. Not thinking, I jumped from the truck to try and shoot one of the Javes only to find that Bill was on his way to hunt that spot…Sorry Bill that was foolish of me. After that debacle I went to the stand I was to hunt and saw nothing. I suppose it served me right after encroaching on Bill’s spot.

The plan was to meet Barry at the truck at 8:00 and since he wasn’t wearing a watch, I was to honk the horn to let him know that it was time to go. At 8:00 sharp I honked the horn and I waited…10 minutes went by and Barry was a no show, so I thought I would use this opportunity to track a Wensel. As I walked down the hill I scanned ahead periodically expecting to see the flicker of a flashlight ahead, but saw none. Further down the trail I went until in the treetops a light twinkled…found him. Following his path, I strolled to the base of his tree at about the time his feet touched the ground and said “you see anything?” “SHHHHHHH!” was the response. We walked back to the truck in silence, we got into the truck and closed the doors with ease, Barry started the truck and we drove towards Gene’s hunting spot and he still hadn’t said anything. By this time I’m thinking to myself “damn what did he see…Bigfoot?” Finally he opens up “I was covered up with pigs! There was a sow out in front of me with a bunch of smaller pigs around her and there were three other bigger hogs on each side of me and another big one behind me! One of them was a huge hog! The three big ones were growling and the biggest one had a deep growl. I had my light on but none of them would step into the light! I just need a little more time and then some SOB honked a horn!” Ha ha ha! Good times to remember.

[Gatekeeper]

Friday, the last day to hunt

That morning beginning at first light I still hunted from No Name Pond, to Louisiana, to Encourager and finally to the bunkhouse and had one pig encounter, but no shot. I went through the thickest stuff on the ranch and at times found myself crawling to find an opening big enough to pass through. I made it to the bunkhouse around 11:00 ate and then Tom, Barry, Gene and I went out to run baits. My plan for the evening was to hunt the second bait spot in Louisiana. Upon checking it I found that the bait was cleaned out for the second time. “Perfect!’” With a minor adjustment to the stand, the trap was set.

By 4:00 I was in the stand. The temperature was warm and the wind was blowing out of the east southeast. The stand was set to face east and was only 6’ off the ground. The shot distance would be under 6 yards. If the wind held steady I should have a chance at a shot. Knowing that any seen movement would give me away, I strung a sweater between the trunk of the tree and limb behind me that forked to the south. This would keep me from being sky lined and hopefully help hide my draw.  The trunk of the tree was wide enough to block out the rest of my shape. To the left of me, about 5’ above the stand’s platform was a large limb that grew towards the east. This limb made it so I had to cant the bow hard to the left in order to shoot. To my right front was a bush that grew about 8’ high. To shoot I would have to sit sideways on the stand, facing north, but I knew I could do it. The setup was tight. Drawing my bow was tight. Any mishaps of my arm brushing against the tree bark when drawing would surely blow this setup.

Around 4:30 a basket 8pt came from the southeast and fed for 20 minutes. 5:10 a larger 8pt came from the southeast and fed. Joining him was four does that came from the north and while the five of them were there a large 10pt stopped by to feed. I was THRILLED! If I can get past their noses, that means my setup is golden! At 6:30 I move to shoo the deer away and I set in wait for my prey.

At 7:00 I heard ‘em …their coming. Knowing that the light on the bow spooks these pigs too much, I abandon it and turn on the flashlight that I mounted in the tree limb above me. The trap was set. From the north they filed in on the same trail the does used and one by one they appeared at the edge of the baited opening where they stopped. It was here that I got my first good look at this pod of pigs. It was the black seven that I had been chasing most of the week! Being slightly down wind of the bait it only took one pig to make a move to the sour corn and the rest of the posse charged in to claim their portion of the bootie. It was a total feeding frenzy! They were vacuuming up corn as fast as they could swallow. It was a sight to see! From my 6’ perch I had the perfect bird’s eye view of the whole scene. The only problem, they all were facing me! My eyes darted from pig to pig looking for a shot and then I saw him…the biggest one in the herd. He ran from left to right. His top lips were bulging out to the side…he has tusks! I want that one daddy! (That’s for you Barry) When he ran to the right he got behind the 8’ tall bush…no shot. Would the wind hold? Should I shoot the first pig to give me a quartering away shot? Or should I hold out for the big boar? My mind was racing! My heart was racing! It was the last day of the hunt and I had less than an hour to hunt! What to do…what to do. Then it happened…he scurried from right to left and stopped directly in front of me quartering slightly away and the next thing I know pigs were bolting away!

The shot looked near perfect. With a grunt he was gone and disappeared into the black ink of night. I tracked him with my ears and heard some struggling and a few grunts and then all was silent. It all happened so fast. I don’t remember raising my bow arm, drawing the bow or releasing the string. It was a purely instinctual shot.

The shot entered a little high between the 5th and 6th rib back on the pigs left side and exited through (shattering) the front elbow on the right side. The shot took out the right lung and enough of his plumbing that he expired about 100 yards from the point of impact.


 

 

 

[Gatekeeper]

Thanks very much to Rob Burnham (Paleface) for taking the pictures for me.

[Tom Phillips]

Gatekeeper,
 Great story tellin.Glad I was fortunate enough to be on hunt with you.Congrads on a good shot & a nice Hog.

 Where we going hunting after Bear Quest 5 ???

[Ned]

Great story Tom. You certainly saw more pig action than we did and I am glad that your plan came together. I knew you were getting close as the week wore on. Way to stick to it.
Great picture Rob.

Ned

[BMN]

Nice story Tom. Congrats on a great hog.

[Charlie Lamb]

[K.S.TRAPPER]

Great story Tom and congrats on a fine hog!!        

Tracy

[ksbowman]

Great job Tom! Wish I could have been there. I know how hard you hunt and there is no one more deserving of that hog than you! Mighty fine animal and great shooting as always!

[rastaman]

Way to go sir!  Mighty fine story telling and a mighty fine hog to go with it!      

[PV]

Thats getting it done Tom!!!      
Thanks for taking us along. You sure enough can tell a tale.

 What was your bow/arrow/broadhead combination if you don't mind.

[Wiley Coyote]

Thank you for the great story. I was on a Piggig in south Texas in 09'and as I read your tale I felt that I was there with you. Fine looking hog!!          

[wapiti792]

Great writing! Who needs a bunch of pictures when you paint the pictures with words...besides the most important photo is there    

Congrats on the pig and the hunt