lbzdually
Banned
I'm a new guy here and love reading hog stories. Anways here's one of my own.
We are in a club in Twiggs county and have been for about 15 years. In 1997 at or abouts, I talked one of my high school buddies into going down for a hog hunt with me. We always headed back into the swamp about 2 hours before dark and we had our little hog holes where the hogs like to frequent. On the way into the swamp, my buddy was riding on the back on the four-wheeler and on the way I noticed the road had washed and made a big hole where the road should be. I made a mental note of where it was so as to not kill us on the way back after dark (we usually stayed until midnight or so). So we get to the spot. We parked the Big Bear 350 and used it as a blind with camo netting all around. I put my buddy on the side where the hog always came from as I had killed plenty of hogs in my life and he never had. He had a 12 guage with buckshot and I had a Remington 7400 .270 with iron sights. My dad came up with the idea of using a knee brace to wrap a 4C cell Maglight around the gun and it worked good and put the light switch right where my index finger came off the stock.
Well right about that sweet time about 30 minutes before dark the hogs started moving. Let me tell you little more about our set-up. On the right, there was a 15 yard hole in the thickness where a trail brough the hogs right by us. That's where my buddy was. Anything not in that hole was simply not visible, it was thick to say the least. The hogs kept moving but never came out before dark. About an hour after dark, they started coming in and I just got "that feeling" it was about to happen. There were at least two hogs coming in from right where I thought they would. I had my buddy Mike on point and I told him as soon as the light comes on hit the hog right in the head. Well we were both really concentrating on that hole waiting for the hogs to pop out. Well you can just about guess what happened next. Right back to my left I heard "the sound". You know the sound when a hog steps into the mud and sinks about 4 inches in- thruuupp.
We were busted and there was no way my buddy could swing around and get a shot. In what would be called pure instinct, I wheeled and hit the light right on the side of the hog's head. He was about 25 yards away and a pretty easy shot. Usually. At the shot I expected him to be laying a in a pile as I always go for head shots. Boom, whheeeeee weehheeeeeeee. Off through the swamp he went. I already knew what was coming from my buddy. "I thought you were going to let me shoot." I was I really was, but something told me this hog would not have waited until he came around the other side of the Big Bear.
I went to the shot site and found bone and blood. My uncle (who I lost in December of 2009 to liver cancer after only a 1 month fight and I still tear up to this day when talking about him) yelled from his hole that was only maybe 250 yards away as the crow flies, "you get him". Me-"I don't know" He cranked up his Wolverine and headed my way. Mind you he was only 250 yards away, but it was a 1/2 mile drive because the swamp was near impenetrable between me and him, unless of course you're a hog. We found blood, tons of it. I kept thinking he will be just ahead. There is no way this hog can keep going. He kept going. At midnight we gave up for the night. I was exhausted from crawling on my hands and knees through holes small enough they didn't look like a chihuahua could fit though.
We got back on the Big Bear and let er rip getting out of there. The gas line road is long and straight and me being 17 or 18 I was dumb enough to hit it at speeds that would make Baja proud. Well, remember that hole that washed out earlier, well I didn't. That is until about 10 yards before we got to it. At speeds approaching the speed of sound, that was too late. We glided over the edge and when we hit the other side it was violent. Myself holding on the handlebars it wasn't that bad. My buddy of the back, well that was a different story. Out of the corner of my eye i could see Mike hovering about a foot above me and I felt his hands clamp onto my shoulders. He was wearing glasses that night, they didn't make it. I still don't know how his shotgun stayed on the Big bear seeing as he had both hands on my shoulders, hmm one of the mysteries of life I suppose.
Mike cussed me, I deserved it. I laughed after the adrenaline wore off and he did too.
We went the next morning to find this hog. It was good eating size, 100-125lbs and I hate to waste good meat. That hog bled and bled and bedded during the night. Then only a few drops. I figured the hog had found a good hiding place to die and we went home and got ready for school Monday.
Fast forward a year. I was heading back into the same hole driving a Kawasaki Bayou 300 that I had gotten from my grandfather. That sucker was awesome for hog hunting. The factory muffler had worn out and he somebody put a new top secret military muffler on it, or something like that. You could drop that thing into third on flat ground at about 15 and it was nearly as quiet as an electric vehicle. Well I was putting along eating spider webs and just enjoying life when I saw that someone's Rottweiler had escaped. What's a dog doing back here was the first thing that popped in my mind. The second thing that popped in my mind was holy crap that not a dog that's a hog-it's him. You see, somehow someway that hog had survived for over a year with what can be described as-well try this exersize. Looking straight ahead and without moving your top jaw, drop you bottom jaw as far as you can. Now turn and look at yourself in the mirror. Now imagine that times 5 looking at you as you drive along a swamp road. Apparently I had shot the hog right at the jaw joint. That's not what the most amazing part is though. This hog was now at least two hundred pounds. How it was able to eat and gain weight I will never know.
Well my suprise lasted just a bit too long and this sucker wasn't sticking around to get round number two from me lodged in his body. I cut the Bayou off and started listening. Sure enough he wasn't alone. I slowly walked along the swamp road and a sow made the mistake of walking out about 50 yards away in about 6 inches of water. I cracked her and she wheeled and ran about 5 yards before toppling over. My uncle had just got into his stand and he yelled "get em" "Yep". I told him to go ahead and hunt, we would get it after dark. He came anyways and I told him about ole dropjaw.
As soon as I got back to Dalton, I went to Walmart to see Mike. He worked there to get gun money and owned the 1st AR I had ever seen in person. I told him about what I had seen and agreed that the hog must have been immortal
I still haven't figured out how the thing ate so much.
We are in a club in Twiggs county and have been for about 15 years. In 1997 at or abouts, I talked one of my high school buddies into going down for a hog hunt with me. We always headed back into the swamp about 2 hours before dark and we had our little hog holes where the hogs like to frequent. On the way into the swamp, my buddy was riding on the back on the four-wheeler and on the way I noticed the road had washed and made a big hole where the road should be. I made a mental note of where it was so as to not kill us on the way back after dark (we usually stayed until midnight or so). So we get to the spot. We parked the Big Bear 350 and used it as a blind with camo netting all around. I put my buddy on the side where the hog always came from as I had killed plenty of hogs in my life and he never had. He had a 12 guage with buckshot and I had a Remington 7400 .270 with iron sights. My dad came up with the idea of using a knee brace to wrap a 4C cell Maglight around the gun and it worked good and put the light switch right where my index finger came off the stock.
Well right about that sweet time about 30 minutes before dark the hogs started moving. Let me tell you little more about our set-up. On the right, there was a 15 yard hole in the thickness where a trail brough the hogs right by us. That's where my buddy was. Anything not in that hole was simply not visible, it was thick to say the least. The hogs kept moving but never came out before dark. About an hour after dark, they started coming in and I just got "that feeling" it was about to happen. There were at least two hogs coming in from right where I thought they would. I had my buddy Mike on point and I told him as soon as the light comes on hit the hog right in the head. Well we were both really concentrating on that hole waiting for the hogs to pop out. Well you can just about guess what happened next. Right back to my left I heard "the sound". You know the sound when a hog steps into the mud and sinks about 4 inches in- thruuupp.
We were busted and there was no way my buddy could swing around and get a shot. In what would be called pure instinct, I wheeled and hit the light right on the side of the hog's head. He was about 25 yards away and a pretty easy shot. Usually. At the shot I expected him to be laying a in a pile as I always go for head shots. Boom, whheeeeee weehheeeeeeee. Off through the swamp he went. I already knew what was coming from my buddy. "I thought you were going to let me shoot." I was I really was, but something told me this hog would not have waited until he came around the other side of the Big Bear.
I went to the shot site and found bone and blood. My uncle (who I lost in December of 2009 to liver cancer after only a 1 month fight and I still tear up to this day when talking about him) yelled from his hole that was only maybe 250 yards away as the crow flies, "you get him". Me-"I don't know" He cranked up his Wolverine and headed my way. Mind you he was only 250 yards away, but it was a 1/2 mile drive because the swamp was near impenetrable between me and him, unless of course you're a hog. We found blood, tons of it. I kept thinking he will be just ahead. There is no way this hog can keep going. He kept going. At midnight we gave up for the night. I was exhausted from crawling on my hands and knees through holes small enough they didn't look like a chihuahua could fit though.
We got back on the Big Bear and let er rip getting out of there. The gas line road is long and straight and me being 17 or 18 I was dumb enough to hit it at speeds that would make Baja proud. Well, remember that hole that washed out earlier, well I didn't. That is until about 10 yards before we got to it. At speeds approaching the speed of sound, that was too late. We glided over the edge and when we hit the other side it was violent. Myself holding on the handlebars it wasn't that bad. My buddy of the back, well that was a different story. Out of the corner of my eye i could see Mike hovering about a foot above me and I felt his hands clamp onto my shoulders. He was wearing glasses that night, they didn't make it. I still don't know how his shotgun stayed on the Big bear seeing as he had both hands on my shoulders, hmm one of the mysteries of life I suppose.
Mike cussed me, I deserved it. I laughed after the adrenaline wore off and he did too.
We went the next morning to find this hog. It was good eating size, 100-125lbs and I hate to waste good meat. That hog bled and bled and bedded during the night. Then only a few drops. I figured the hog had found a good hiding place to die and we went home and got ready for school Monday.
Fast forward a year. I was heading back into the same hole driving a Kawasaki Bayou 300 that I had gotten from my grandfather. That sucker was awesome for hog hunting. The factory muffler had worn out and he somebody put a new top secret military muffler on it, or something like that. You could drop that thing into third on flat ground at about 15 and it was nearly as quiet as an electric vehicle. Well I was putting along eating spider webs and just enjoying life when I saw that someone's Rottweiler had escaped. What's a dog doing back here was the first thing that popped in my mind. The second thing that popped in my mind was holy crap that not a dog that's a hog-it's him. You see, somehow someway that hog had survived for over a year with what can be described as-well try this exersize. Looking straight ahead and without moving your top jaw, drop you bottom jaw as far as you can. Now turn and look at yourself in the mirror. Now imagine that times 5 looking at you as you drive along a swamp road. Apparently I had shot the hog right at the jaw joint. That's not what the most amazing part is though. This hog was now at least two hundred pounds. How it was able to eat and gain weight I will never know.
Well my suprise lasted just a bit too long and this sucker wasn't sticking around to get round number two from me lodged in his body. I cut the Bayou off and started listening. Sure enough he wasn't alone. I slowly walked along the swamp road and a sow made the mistake of walking out about 50 yards away in about 6 inches of water. I cracked her and she wheeled and ran about 5 yards before toppling over. My uncle had just got into his stand and he yelled "get em" "Yep". I told him to go ahead and hunt, we would get it after dark. He came anyways and I told him about ole dropjaw.
As soon as I got back to Dalton, I went to Walmart to see Mike. He worked there to get gun money and owned the 1st AR I had ever seen in person. I told him about what I had seen and agreed that the hog must have been immortal
I still haven't figured out how the thing ate so much.
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