typilotguy
AH senior member
- Joined
- Mar 4, 2020
- Messages
- 96
- Reaction score
- 224
- Location
- East Tennessee
- Media
- 4
- Member of
- Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation
- Hunted
- United States, South Africa
Hello, everybody-
Just thought I would share a little bit of success I've had this year. This wild boar was harvested in the mountains of Eastern Tennessee in the beginning of October. While this was a bear/boar hunt with dogs, I managed to kill him still hunting. The dogs had another animal going, but took it around the other side of the mountain. As such, I hunted my way through the woods into a likely looking area. I came to a saddle that had no less than five ridges falling off into it. A natural funnel. Moreover, there were several wallows a little lower, with game trails running from them to the said saddle. Additionally, there was an incredibly heavy mast crop- white and red oak acorns, hickory nuts, and beech nuts galore.
Upon finding this beautiful country, I climbed to the top of the ridge. While hunting like this, I like to really know the lay of the surrounding land. After reaching the top of the mountain, I decided that I wanted to come back down a little bit. The top looked better, but I just got that feeling. One of those feelings that you can't explain, yet you must follow. I've had that feeling many times in life, and I can only attribute it to one thing...divine...I don't want to call it intervention...but perhaps guidance. I took the guidance, and posted up with my back against a fallen oak. And began to wait.
It was a little chilly, but certainly not cold. In fact, it was a little warmer weather than I like to hunt in, but, as I had no say in the weather, I was going to hunt regardless. I was just thankful to be in the woods, and even more so with a rifle in hand. Speaking of the rifle - she is a Model 1936 Marlin, manufactured in 1936. The grandfather to today's more familiar 336. Chambered in the venerable .30-30, she is a lively companion, a prefect partner for jaunts in the mountains where shots rarely exceed 60 or 70 yards.
After that aside, back to the hunt. I was watching down into the area below me, overlooking several trails that all joined about where I sat. I figured that the hogs leaving the wallows would come up one of them. Additionally, any pigs coming down from one of the five ridge fingers would also come past.
The plan worked. This guy had been wallowing and followed one of the trails quite literally right to me. It's funny the things that go through your mind at the moment of truth. As soon as I saw him trotting my way, my first thought was to turn my marine radio off. The volume was already at the lowest setting, but I distinctly remember thinking "Oh goodness. Here it comes, and I have my radio on. Somebody is going to talk, he's going to hear it". So, I slowly reached over to turn my walkie off. Then it hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks. "You idiot...he's in range. Shoot!" At that, I raised my rifle, cocked the hammer, and when he turned ever so slightly from the head on position, I let the hammer fall. The 170gr Core-Lokt found it's mark on the shoulder, and the pig dropped. I immediately racked another cartridge into battery out of habit. The boar was still alive, swinging his head side to side, until he saw me. With his front legs no longer working, he tried to push himself towards me with the rear legs. Things can get a little exciting when a wounded boar is looking you dead in the eyes, popping his jaws, at 11 paces away. I quickly fired another, shall we say insurance round, just to be sure. At the shot he went limp.
After saying a prayer of thanks, I discovered that the first round had found it's mark, and would have been very much fatal in and of itself. But the second one didn't hurt, and with those heavy, (relatively) slow bullets, meat damage is kept to a minimum.
After getting him dressed out, and then out of the woods, this boar weighed in at 128lbs. Thus far I have smoked the ribs, cooked some of the tenderloin, and made some bratwurst. All have been delicious, and I hope the hams I am preparing for Christmas will be as well.
Just thought I would share a little bit of success I've had this year. This wild boar was harvested in the mountains of Eastern Tennessee in the beginning of October. While this was a bear/boar hunt with dogs, I managed to kill him still hunting. The dogs had another animal going, but took it around the other side of the mountain. As such, I hunted my way through the woods into a likely looking area. I came to a saddle that had no less than five ridges falling off into it. A natural funnel. Moreover, there were several wallows a little lower, with game trails running from them to the said saddle. Additionally, there was an incredibly heavy mast crop- white and red oak acorns, hickory nuts, and beech nuts galore.
Upon finding this beautiful country, I climbed to the top of the ridge. While hunting like this, I like to really know the lay of the surrounding land. After reaching the top of the mountain, I decided that I wanted to come back down a little bit. The top looked better, but I just got that feeling. One of those feelings that you can't explain, yet you must follow. I've had that feeling many times in life, and I can only attribute it to one thing...divine...I don't want to call it intervention...but perhaps guidance. I took the guidance, and posted up with my back against a fallen oak. And began to wait.
It was a little chilly, but certainly not cold. In fact, it was a little warmer weather than I like to hunt in, but, as I had no say in the weather, I was going to hunt regardless. I was just thankful to be in the woods, and even more so with a rifle in hand. Speaking of the rifle - she is a Model 1936 Marlin, manufactured in 1936. The grandfather to today's more familiar 336. Chambered in the venerable .30-30, she is a lively companion, a prefect partner for jaunts in the mountains where shots rarely exceed 60 or 70 yards.
After that aside, back to the hunt. I was watching down into the area below me, overlooking several trails that all joined about where I sat. I figured that the hogs leaving the wallows would come up one of them. Additionally, any pigs coming down from one of the five ridge fingers would also come past.
The plan worked. This guy had been wallowing and followed one of the trails quite literally right to me. It's funny the things that go through your mind at the moment of truth. As soon as I saw him trotting my way, my first thought was to turn my marine radio off. The volume was already at the lowest setting, but I distinctly remember thinking "Oh goodness. Here it comes, and I have my radio on. Somebody is going to talk, he's going to hear it". So, I slowly reached over to turn my walkie off. Then it hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks. "You idiot...he's in range. Shoot!" At that, I raised my rifle, cocked the hammer, and when he turned ever so slightly from the head on position, I let the hammer fall. The 170gr Core-Lokt found it's mark on the shoulder, and the pig dropped. I immediately racked another cartridge into battery out of habit. The boar was still alive, swinging his head side to side, until he saw me. With his front legs no longer working, he tried to push himself towards me with the rear legs. Things can get a little exciting when a wounded boar is looking you dead in the eyes, popping his jaws, at 11 paces away. I quickly fired another, shall we say insurance round, just to be sure. At the shot he went limp.
After saying a prayer of thanks, I discovered that the first round had found it's mark, and would have been very much fatal in and of itself. But the second one didn't hurt, and with those heavy, (relatively) slow bullets, meat damage is kept to a minimum.
After getting him dressed out, and then out of the woods, this boar weighed in at 128lbs. Thus far I have smoked the ribs, cooked some of the tenderloin, and made some bratwurst. All have been delicious, and I hope the hams I am preparing for Christmas will be as well.
