| Florida Hog Hunting at its Best | |
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After a short break I lined my truck seat with my raincoat and an old towel so I wouldn't soak it with swamp water from my clothes, and we drove around back to put the dogs out again. After a couple of false alarms we heard them bayed up hard, and with the whole crew loaded into Jim's truck and mine, we got over there in a hurry. I wasn't about to be caught with dead camera batteries again, so while the crowd ran towards the ruckus I quickly swapped out the batteries and then trotted over there myself.
About that time things were getting very intense and some more shouting began. The dogs were socked onto a 75-pound boar in a pile of old logs. I managed somehow to snap a quick photo (I don't even remember taking the picture), and then Kenny was hollering for someone with a gun.
About that time a behemoth of a hog burst into view, thundering out of the woodpile with Sassy hot on its heels, and beyond it from me was Tony with his shouldered 30-30 rifle, swinging it on the hog. I ran the other way right quick to get out of the line of fire, until it became clear that the hog was in a thicket and Tony didn't have a shot. I hustled over to try and get a picture of the fleeing beast, but the brush was too thick for a good photo - and besides, that hog needed killing!
Kenny letting us know there's more here than meets the eye, as Jim hustles towards the thick of the fight.
Photo Copyright Russ Chastain, all rights reserved.
I drew my soggy SIG in a flash and ran after the big hog, a fresh batch of adrenaline flooding my veins. The dog had it stopped for a moment, so I hustled up there and gave it one in the right side of the ribcage. The hog didn't seem to notice that he'd been shot except that he didn't like the noise very much, and he took off again.
Twice more I got the chance to close the distance and popped a fast shot at the beast, connecting every time... and on he went. Finally the hog got into some water and was slowing down a notch or two. I then put a carefully-aimed shot into the "sweet spot" just behind the left shoulder, and the swine immediately lost all of its momentum. He was still moving a little bit, but if he'd been on land instead of in the water, there's no way he could have gone anywhere, he'd have been down for the count.
Now I figured it was only a matter of catching my breath and getting out there for a possible finisher to the head if he was still twitching when I arrived. Sassy had also decided it was over and backed off, keeping her distance from the big hog. Tony had run up and stood there when I took my final shot. I pronounced the hog dead and relaxed for a short breather.
Tony, his ever-present wild-eyed look now somewhat amplified by an overdose of adrenaline (something most of us were experiencing), decided the hog was leaving town and that it needed another shot, so BOOM! went his 30-30, and he hit about 2" from where my last pistol shot had hit. Now there could be no doubt that this big hog was dead! Well, as I've often said before, there's no such thing as overkill - you can't kill 'em deader than dead.
Tony, Sassy, and me, with the big 'un and the tools we used to nail him. Notice the right hand over my heart, like I'm about to pledge allegiance to the SIG. Jim's dog Sassy was dedicated to this big boy, and she did a fine job keeping him occupied so I could take him down.
Photo by John Lance, used by permission. Copyright 2003, all rights reserved.
I'm very proud of both me and my SIG. It didn't care that it had gotten wet earlier, and it performed flawlessly when I needed it. What more can you ask of a pistol? The first shot was double-action but I barely noticed the difference, it was so smooth. This was already my favorite auto pistol, and it just keeps making me happier!
Meanwhile and unbeknownst to the two of us, Jim Casselman and his oldest son Nick were wrestling and sticking that 75-pound boar which the dogs had caught in the woodpile. When I went after the big one, I didn't even know there was another hog in the melee, and I was too busy taking care of this big sucker to ask around for the latest news.
Nick stuck that one with the same Arkansas toothpick that I'd used earlier, and then dashed over to where I was, to check on the action with my big one and then give us a hand getting it out of the swamp.
A proud Nick with his first knife-killed hog.
Photo by Terry Casselman, used by permission. Copyright 2003, all rights reserved.
Tony and I headed out to retrieve the hog, had our picture taken (thanks again, John) and stumbled out of the water with the hog in tow. It was when we hit dry land that I realized just how big that hog was, because now we couldn't move the thing! We did get it out to the trucks, but we definitely needed the help of others. As usual, those closest pitched right in and we got 'er done - thanks, guys.
Page Six: Recovered .40-caliber bullets; a wonderful hunt comes to an end
