My passion used to be hunting wild hogs. I really had the fever and went nearly every weekend for twelve years. The concept is simple you have several bulldogs that walk along with you through the woods. They are called, “catch dogs, and most were a mix of pit bulldog and English bulldogs. They were fearless. We also had a couple of cur dogs that would “bay” the hogs up. They would not bark until they saw a hog.
When those bulldogs hear the curs baying up a hog they would take off running towards them as did we. When we arrived a terrible fight to the death would be taking place. If it was a sow there would be loud squealing, but if it was a boar hog, all we would hear would be grunting.
It seemed that they always bayed up in head high briars and we would have to belly crawl to get in there. We had to make it quick because a big boar can kill a dog quickly with its razor sharp tusks. They could cut you up too and I’ve gone up a tree several times to escape an enraged boar hog.
We had a good reputation for killing hogs and most of the farmers would call us if they were getting crop damage from them. One day a farmer called and said he had hogs coming in his corn field at night. So we agreed to take our dogs over to his field and see what we could find. We were hunting at night which in itself is inherently dangerous. We had flashlights and when a hog sees that light coming it knows that the real danger is the person holding that light and not the dogs. One could have five bulldogs hanging off it and when they see that light coming, they shake even the biggest bulldog off, and they come at you full speed.
After a couple of months of begging me I finally decided to allow my oldest son (14) to go with us. I told him to just stay behind me and he would be fine. So we waited until it was good and dark and turned our dogs loose. Almost immediately they started baying and then the bulldogs found the hog and they were fighting hard. The hog didn’t squeal so I knew it had to be a big boar. The hog broke free and ran into the woods with the dogs in hot pursuit. They caught him again not far from the field. From the sound of it the hog was putting up a good fight, we were going in to finish him off before he did too much damage to our dogs. When we got to the edge of the field where the hog had run into the woods there were two trails leading into the woods. My partner Ronnie took the trail to the left and I took the one to the right. Both trails were right beside each other.
I had a flashlight that I had to shake occasionally to make it work. The next thing I know Ronnie yelled LOOK OUT! And the hog came charging out of there and hit me and I went flying through the air about six feet and when I landed my light was out. I shook it and it came on and I looked for my son. He was high tailing down the edge of the field with those long legs and is the only one that who didn’t get hit by the hog.
We didn’t want to do it, but we had to get our dogs and hopefully kill the boar. There were thick weeds growing in the corn and it reduced our ability to see in there. Fortunately, he was bayed up right in the middle of a clear spot. He was sitting on His haunches with a dog in his mouth shaking it side to side. I raised my 44 Magnum pistol and shot him and then almost immediately Ronnie shot. We shot him a couple of more times and finally he expired. We dragged the big boar out of there and headed for the vet. Ronnie’s best dog had been badly cut and didn’t make it. Our other dogs were cut up too but survived. The vet sewed up dogs for about an hour.
I skinned that big boar out and made a rug out of him. I told Ronnie I wanted to walk on him for the rest of my life. I remember that perhaps a year later we went to South Carolina and the trip was harrowing. I had to wade through a swamp holding my pistol and my wallet above my head. I saw an alligator slide into the water and a cottonmouth moccasin dropped off a branch right in front of me. Next I had to belly crawl through a head of briars only to get charged by a big hog. I managed to kill the hog and then Ronnie wanted to bring it with us, so we had to drag it out. It was the middle of the summer and hotter than hades and sweat bees were draining my blood. I should’ve keeled over from heat exhaustion, but we finally made it back to our vehicle. On the way home I told Ronnie I was quitting hog hunting and if he wanted my dogs he could have them.
When I got home I told my wife that if I ever mentioned going hog hunting again to hit me with a two by four with nails to remind me of the briars, throw water in my face and then sand to remind me of that swamp, and to beat me profusely. One would think I would have made that decision earlier in the 12 years I had been hunting them. I have not hog hunted again since that trip to South Carolina. You are probably thinking by now that I was foolish to go hog hunting all of those years. Yep, you would be right.
Titus 3:3
For we ourselves were once foolish, disobedient, led astray, slaves to various passions and pleasures . . .