Last evening we, Louann (the wife) and myself spent the last couple of hours slipping into the wind along the edge of the swamp looking for hogs. We split up and I went deeper into the swamp and she continued along the edge.
When it got dark we both ended up back on the road a good ways from the truck; Louann a good half mile and me a little closer. Once back in the truck we compared notes on what we saw. I'd only managed to spook a ugly old dear.
Louann on the other hand had a interesting walk. About a hour after we split up she heard hogs in the palmettos. As they were moving along feeding across the wind, she spent about 20 minutes getting ahead of them so that they would end up up-wind from her.
When she finally sees black in the palmettos they are not 15 yards away. She leaned up against a tree for a steady shot and waited until one steped into a gap in the palmettos at about 10 yards. Cocked the hammer on the .243 and settled the Red Dot on the hogs neck.
Just as she's squeezing the trigger she sees a "blurr" go past the feet of the hog. She imediately realized that the "blurr" is a VERY small hog, cat sized at best. Upon seeing the small one she takes a better look at the big hog, which is still in the opening. Sure enough it's a sow with sagging tits, still nursing.
Sense it's a sow with a number of little ones she decides it better for the future of our hog hunting to let her be. So she lowers the hammer on the rifle and waits for them to move off.
What happens next is one of those rewards that we sometimes get when we do the right thing. That mama hog procedes to flop over right there in that spot. And when she does 5 or 6 little guys come scurrying out of the palmettos and start to nurse.
Now I'll tell you, listening to her tell about it you could tell that watching them, after having slipped up that close, was as satisfying as if she had shot one.
Kind of makes the point that hunting and killing are not the same thing.
When it got dark we both ended up back on the road a good ways from the truck; Louann a good half mile and me a little closer. Once back in the truck we compared notes on what we saw. I'd only managed to spook a ugly old dear.
Louann on the other hand had a interesting walk. About a hour after we split up she heard hogs in the palmettos. As they were moving along feeding across the wind, she spent about 20 minutes getting ahead of them so that they would end up up-wind from her.
When she finally sees black in the palmettos they are not 15 yards away. She leaned up against a tree for a steady shot and waited until one steped into a gap in the palmettos at about 10 yards. Cocked the hammer on the .243 and settled the Red Dot on the hogs neck.
Just as she's squeezing the trigger she sees a "blurr" go past the feet of the hog. She imediately realized that the "blurr" is a VERY small hog, cat sized at best. Upon seeing the small one she takes a better look at the big hog, which is still in the opening. Sure enough it's a sow with sagging tits, still nursing.
Sense it's a sow with a number of little ones she decides it better for the future of our hog hunting to let her be. So she lowers the hammer on the rifle and waits for them to move off.
What happens next is one of those rewards that we sometimes get when we do the right thing. That mama hog procedes to flop over right there in that spot. And when she does 5 or 6 little guys come scurrying out of the palmettos and start to nurse.
Now I'll tell you, listening to her tell about it you could tell that watching them, after having slipped up that close, was as satisfying as if she had shot one.
Kind of makes the point that hunting and killing are not the same thing.
