A few hundered yards into the woods, Billy stopped me and pointed out the boar facing completely away from us. I don't like to call what happened next a "Texas Heart Shot" out of respect for my beloved wife's birth state, but that's what it was. 250-grains of deep penetrating copper went straight up the pig's behind. The boar moved behind a tree and stood there. I observed what I THOUGHT was his shoulder and aimed at it.
I was wrong. Now the story becomes bizarre. My last round struck the thick stalk of a shrub, sliced through the edge of the pig's butt, furrowed into the dirt and landed about twenty feet past the boar. After reaching the now downed hog, I went to relieve myself. I looked down a couple feet ahead of me and saw my bullet. I called witnesses over before I touched it. No, I didn't pee on it. The bullet was still warm and had lost all of it's petals.
