Day three found me back to a spot that PV had introduced to me last year. He named it the golf course, with the front nine and the back nine consisting of big open flats along the river tucked up against a steep rocky hillside.
As I worked my way between the front and back I spotted hogs ahead. Two sows accompanied by a bevy of piglets were rooting busily in the grass of an opening. The crest of a small knoll hid my approach, and within minutes I eased up within shooting range. The young hogs seemed to belong to the biggest sow, and in any case looked to be big enough to survive just fine on their own.
The smaller of the two sows was a little further than I like, but after yesterdays episode of Failure to Launch Syndrome I eased the string back to anchor and when it felt right the arrow flashed across the 22 yards between us and disappeared through her side.
She ran about 10 yards and then stopped, looked around like she was trying to figure out what had just happened, and then tipped over. just like that. Unlike Barry's hog, this one went nowhere, and it was over so fast I couldn't believe it. But I was a happy camper, and this one would make fine eating.
I had just recently completed refinishing an old Damon Howatt Super Diablo for myself. I think I have found a new favorite hunting bow.