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After the rains broke, everybody headed back out to their
respective stand locations, with the exception of Bud and
Bill, who decided instead to go look for Bud's hogs.
Steve dropped Cambo and Spur at their blind, then took
David and me to David's site. I decided, based on
jumping hogs in the wallow the last two times I had driven
through, to stalk in from David's stand rather than have
Steve drive me. I stalked quietly to my tripod, not encountering any
hogs along the way. Once situated, I waited as the
moonlit night was becoming brighter. About thirty
minutes after getting on stand, I heard the sound of a hog
munching and snorting in the brush behind me. I
could tell it was a lone hog, and therefore probably a
boar. I waited and listened for several minutes,
straining my eyes against the darkness trying to see the
hog. He was close! I could hear him, but I
couldn't see him. Certainly he would be appearing at
any time! Finally, the black blob appeared,
right along the brush line in which my stand was
situated. The hog was already less than 15 feet away
and closing. At that distance, my primary concern
was that the hog would hear me draw. With the hog at
10 feet, I slowly drew back and, unbelievably, the arrow
slid across the rest absolutely noiselessly! The hog
never knew I was there. However, the hog was too
close to get a shot through the shooting lane, and was
quickly across and behind brush. I held at full draw
for another minute or so, hoping he would backtrack a
little farther out, but apparently he caught a whiff of me
because of the wind, which was still swirling
inconsistently. A little disappointed, yet
still excited, I waited, hoping the boar would
return. I watched a coon feed to my right at about
40 yards. Suddenly, I heard faint grunting, which
soon became louder as I heard a group of pigs approaching
from my left. I readied my bow, and having learned
from the first encounter, I decided that I would not be
able to let the hogs come across the shooting lane at the
risk of being winded. The moment I saw the first
two, big, black hogs enter from the left, I drew back the
bow. The lead hog was now clearly in my shooting
lane, perfectly quartered at less than 15 yards. I
settled in my anchor and, though I couldn't see my pins, I
made sure I had a good, comfortable sight picture.
Once confident I was close, I applied light pressure with
the index finger of my bow hand on the pressure switch of
my stabilizer mounted light, a prototype model made for me
by Ed Kana. He had sent the light to me earlier in
the week to test on this trip. It worked
flawlessly. The light shined just enough light on
the hog to create a silhouette of my pins behind his
shoulder. I settled the pin low behind the shoulder
and triggered the release. The hogs scattered in
every direction, but I was able to vaguely determine the
general course of the hog at which I had shot. No
sooner had I released the arrow than it began to lightly
rain. Knowing that Bud had been unable to track his
hog because of a washed out blood trail, I began to get a
little antsy. I waited only a few more minutes
before deciding to defy the instructions of our
guide. He had requested that we not attempt to track
alone, but the circumstances dictated that I at least find
the arrow to determine the lethality of the hit, and then
attempt to determine a general direction. I climbed
from the tripod and quickly found good blood, and within a
few yards, I found the broken, fletched end of the
shaft. The light red blood on all of the white
vanes, along with the puddle of blood underneath, told me
that I had a good lung hit. I followed the trail
a few more yards down the road. The rain, which had
threatened, had quit. I decided to give the hog a little
longer, and wait for help to continue tracking.
After 40 or so minutes, David Inbody joined me and we
began the tracking job. It was a fairly easy trail
to follow, with good blood easily identifiable even with
our small, hand held flashlights. Within 70 yards we
found the big boar piled up, with a perfect double lung
shot exiting the offside shoulder. 
Dave had shot, and missed, a similar sized hog.
Nobody else had an opportunity to get a shot. Roy
estimated the hog to be close to 170 pounds.
Originally I thought that might be a little high, but
after David and I lifted it onto the skinning rack, I
began to concur with his assessment. It was a nice
sized boar. 
The
chore of cleaning the big hog was a long one, but finally,
with Bill's help, I managed to get the pork in the ice
chest. After a trip to the grocery store and then a
shower to get cleaned up, it was 4:30 this morning!
The 5 a.m. turkey alarm didn't seem quite so important!
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