I’m copying a story I wrote a number of years ago on my personal hunting blog (my brother and I blog daily from Africa and elsewhere to keep our 89 year old mother and some friends updated while we’re away). It was a day during a hog hunt in Georgia.
Titled “Hog Wild”…
The morning was brisk with a steady breeze as we made our way along a sandy road flanked by fields of planted fir trees. The trees, longleaf pines, are slow growing but provide stout lumber when mature. The stumps of these trees are full of resin and tend not to rot. When dug up, they provide “fat wood” which is easily ignited with a match and used as a fire starter.
One by one, we were dropped off to take positions surrounding a patch of woods into which the hounds would be released. From my position, I could see a distance of 100 yards left and right down the road but no more than 5 to 10 yards into the grass and pines off the shoulder of the road. For nearly an hour everything was quiet.
Cell phone texts confirmed that no one was seeing or hearing anything but we were all content as the cold and breeze dispensed with the mosquitos and gnats that had bothered us yesterday. The sun breaking through low clouds was taking the chill off me when I heard a twig snap nearby. Eventually, two whitetail doe came into view about 10 yards away. Moments later, a young 6 pt buck grunting his way along behind the does came to within 7 steps of me. He stopped, looked at me with curiosity, and retreated back into the pines. Great way to start the day!
At about 9 am, I heard the hounds barking. Soon there was a shot and then another shot. The barking continued but shortly a text message arrived with a picture of the fourth boar taken by our group. I assumed that the dogs had driven the boar out far ahead and were continuing to bark as they trailed behind. I was wrong.
Andy’s (our guide) Ford truck rolled up faster than usual and as it stopped, he suggested that I leave my backpack and get in quickly. As we sped away, he indicated that he believed there must have been two hogs and based on the GPS tracking of the dogs, it was likely a big hog.
As we drew near the GPS location, Andy asked if I could hear them on my side. When I responded that yes, I could, the truck came to a stop and we bailed out. A few dozen strides from the truck, the dogs came into view. In few more paces the boar was visible as well. Surrounded by barking dogs, the hog stood his ground wheeling quickly and sporadically in a circle to fend off each approaching hound.
Where the boar was bayed.
At 50 or so yards, it was clear that this was a pretty big boar. I’m thinking this is plenty close for a rifled and scoped slug gun especially with a target that size but Andy moved on and I followed. Our path wasn’t directly toward the hog but rather somewhat parallel between rows of planted pines about 6 inches in diameter. Unbeknownst to me Andy was continuing closer to gain an angle where we would avoid shooting in the direction of another of our hunters, Bob, posted on the other side of the wood lot.
The path brought us within about 30 yards when we stopped abruptly. We had only a few seconds to study the situation (I.e., a swirling hog and dog cyclone) when in an instant the boar swung in our direction and it seemed our eyes met. I sensed malice in those eyes and my intuition was confirmed when he leapt free of the dogs and came for us. Andy said, “He’s coming…” Followed by “RUN. WE GOT TO RUN NOW!”
Now, at my youngest and best self, I wasn’t going to challenge Usain Bolt in the 40 yd dash. At this age, in boots, carrying a shotgun, in three inches of pine needles, I’m far removed from my personal best. I’m running to be sure but not fast enough to suit Andy. Granted, he’s in a more tenuous position between me and the boar so he is clearly the more motivated of the two of us. I’m glancing back to see if the hog is gaining on us but I can’t tell. However, based on the force of Andy’s hands on my back, I’m guessing we’re losing the race. By the way, I think Andy must have been a good sprinter in his school days.
The running lane.
Again, unbeknownst to me, Andy knew that if we got some distance out of the boar’s line of sight, he might just veer off for open woods and leave us behind. And that’s what happened. I don’t know how far behind us he crossed but again based on the shoves and length of the instructions to “RUUUUN!” I’m guessing it wasn’t far.
When Andy realized the hog had passed by, we slid to a halt in the pine needles, turned, and began to chase the hog. Now one could question the logic in that but hey, when in Rome…, so I followed. I’d like to say at a sprint but it was probably more of a determined trot. As we ran, Andy yelled, “Martin,TURN THE BULL DOG LOOSE! TURN THE BULL DOG LOOSE!”
I wasn’t sure that Martin had complied until I caught a glimpse of that little dog that Andy kept in a separate box on top of the truck. She was running all out right at that hog. The fight was definitely on… 30 lbs vs nearly 300. The first few times she launched at the boars head, she got tossed aside. Initially, her head and chest were protected by a heavy leather bib but after a few hits by the sharp tusks, the bib was twisted aside. Although the skin of her necks was punctured at least once, the little dog persevered and finally got a mouth full of the pigs left ear. At that point, she was firmly attached and didn’t let go.
The bulldog after the fight.
As the boar spun to avoid the hounds and try to shed the bulldog, Andy rushed behind and grabbed the tail, then a leg and finally moved to get both back legs. If you’ve been in a two person wheelbarrow race, you know it’s hard enough to hold the legs of a willing partner. Much tougher with an unwilling boar who’s intent on biting you. Over the din of the barking dogs, Andy provided an instruction I had hoped I wouldn’t receive on this trip, “You’re gonna have to stick him!”.
On the night of our arrival, Andy had described hound hunting. He mentioned that occasionally the dogs would catch a boar as opposed to baying it. In the case of a big boar, it might be difficult to release it for a shot for fear that it would injure the dogs or charge a hunter in the process. This particular boar had already put the hike on us and injured the bulldog so clearly I had been dealt the “you gotta stick’em” hand.
The knife that Martin handed me was a Bowie knife with a deer antler handle. I learned later that Andy got the knife 25 years ago in Tennessee. I’m not sure if he bought it or pulled it from a stone. This knife would have made a good cutlery companion to Paul Bunyan’s axe. In fact, I’m pretty sure Crocodile Dundee would have slipped his blade back in its sheath and conceded, “Now that’s a knife.” You get the point, it was a big knife. As Doug Marcaida on the History Channel’s Forged in Fire show would say, “This knife will kill.” And amidst the darting hounds, twisting boar, grasping bulldog, and wheelbarrowing Andy, it did.
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The Bowie knife at Andy’s side.
Andy estimated the boar’s weight at 275 lbs. The two shots we heard earlier were fellow hunter Bob taking another large boar. It seems likely that this boar was driven to Bob as the hounds bayed the second one. As the boar entered the path that Bob was standing on, he dropped it at 62 steps with 12 gauge 00 buckshot. Fine shooting using a Remington 870 with as pretty a wood stock as I’ve seen on a shotgun.
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My boar.
I’m not sure this qualifies as self defense as the OP asked but it was an interesting experience.
