Details from 28 OCT 20 Hunt

#0039

As you may recall I had a big hog on the camera Tuesday night. He got in front of the camera but did not eat any of the corn. He’s old, he’s big, he’s smart.

I had a trip planned so I would be out of town for a few days.

Also, neighboring rancher Wade sent a photo of rooting damage near our city limits.

The call of civic duty outweighed an extra day away.

Wingman Greg was not available so I went to the fire station alone at 2100 Wednesday. I was sort of dozing in the recliner and decided to do a thermal scan just before 2300. My scan began at the garage bay window. Well, here he came still in the pasture but moving my direction.

There are lots of trees along the fence line so I soon lost track of him.

My options were to wait or to go outside and stalk. Well, I’m not one to wait…

I went to the back corner of the fire station and scanned: nothing. Possibly he could be headed back to the area he had just rooted. I moved to a position hoping to see him walking in the pasture along the fence.

Looking north into the pasture, looking west behind me. There he is crossing the fence headed toward the soccer field. If he’s there, no shot. I wait. He soon crosses the path I just took. Did he smell me? Did he see my truck parked by the fire station? Don’t know, dead pigs tell no tales.

In any case, he backtracked through the fence and back into the pasture. I move closer to the fence. It’s three days away from a full moon. A cold front had come through so the sky is clear and I’m bathed in moonlight. Not optimal.

Tripod up, scanning the path I hope he will take.

There he is at 30 yards. He slows, maybe he sees me.

I’m ready and I squeeze off the shot. He’s down and squealing. A second shot, and he’s quiet and still.

TBL (my wife: Tall Blonde Laura) asks me why I wasn’t getting it butchered. I explain that (1) a boar that big is not fit for the table (many people have told me) and (2) there is no way on earth that I could drag that big pig across the muddy pasture and through a fence and through a ditch. She seems unconvinced. (She likes the sausage made from feral hogs.) She remains skeptical and probably thinks that if her dad was involved, the hog would have been dragged, gutted, and ready for the processor.

Thursday AM I visit the dead hog (and forget to take a daytime photo, sorry).

I measure it’s heart girth because you can estimate a hog’s weight very quickly. Heart girth 48 inches which corresponds to 280 pounds. The big hog I shot last fall had a heart girth of 46 inches. So, I have a new personal best twenty pounds more that the pig with the exceptionally long tusks taken last year. (Also not butchered.)

TBL left first thing this morning to assist daughter-in-law with child care Thursday – Saturday, so I have not had the chance to show her the girth to weight table. She may still not be convinced. This says more about the measure of the man who was my father-in-law, but that is another story.

This hog was beautiful, so fat his skin was stretched like a balloon. His hair was shiny and sleek. He was well fed. (Will discuss this with rancher Wade. This hog stole a lot of cattle feed.)

Back to the hog. Off with his head which is now skinned and under my wash tub where the dermestid beetles and their larvae will consume everything except the teeth and bones. Soon I will have another European mount.

As I was driving out of town at about 0900, the buzzards were surrounding the remains of the pig. Breakfast is served.

I did not conduct a complete necropsy. However, one bullet entered his skull just above his left eye brow. Second shot tore up his throat. I did not try to recover the bullets, but maybe I should have.

Current tally is six hogs shot, four bodies sighted, two of which have already come back from the processor as sausage.

Porcus Hogrelius
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