Being first a bow hunter I prefer the bow. But it had been some time since I have harvested anything with a rifle. I had just sighted in the .243 for Amber and she harvested a great boar with it just a week ago. A couple of days ago she spotted a very large boar walking up an oak and grass covered hill. She perched on a redwood stump overlooking the field below. She watched as the big dark mass moved through the dimming light into darkness. Moments later she could hear the splashing of a wallowing hog up the hill to her right. She backed out undetected and came to camp with her eyes wide-open saying "I saw a giant boar, and I know where he went and probably where he will be tomorrow!" Her confidence is growing as a hog hunter. She pays attention to how critters do what they do and tries to figure them out. I knew the time would come when she would be guiding me on a hunt. The next evening with the sun going down and Amber as my guide, I started out after the "Big Hog." We walk to the hilltop overlooking where she had seen the hog the evening before.

Below lays a field, which rises up to a forest edge up on our right. Up the hill behind us is a pond with marshy grass above and below it. Our wind was going right down into the field. Amber was gambling on the wind to change. She also remarked the excellent view of the field how she was sure my boar would come up this field headed to the pond. We were actually getting all worked up about which way to play it when suddenly, from right behind us, came a massive growl! An upset hog was behind us! We looked at each other like someone had pulled a pin on a hand grenade! Both of our eyes popped wide open. All discussion stopped. The whole atmosphere changed with one scary sound. Again another loud growl from near the pond. Clearly there was a very large boar not twenty yards away that was taking issue with something or someone. Amber looked at me so I could read her lips as she whispered, "I am out of here!" I didn't try to convince her to join me as I moved toward the scary sound. She was gone. She didn't have much video light left and being armed only with a knife and a video camera, it was best that she walked up the hill a little where she could see the hunt from up on a stump.
As I move in closer I could hear several hogs down the hill where there was water in the grass and ferns. It was a pretty spot, but you could hide a car in the tall grass. I couldn't see anything. Just moving grass. I heard some rustling on the other side of the draw and watched as a big black boar came into the scene. He headed straight toward me. I had my cross hairs on his forehead for a moment. But I wanted the hog to turn broadside so I could have the higher percentage kill zone to shoot at. As the black boar advanced down into the draw, he too became a dark spot in the grass. At this point the sun had been down for about 10 minutes. I knew I had to pick a hog and shoot or get out and come back another day. The hogs advanced my way a few yards and I could see shapes in the tall grass and hear the grunting and scuffling. On the other side of the herd and way out of sight, I could hear two boars fighting. I move in a little close trying to get a better view of a hog, any hog. In front of me appears a large dark square, not moving and not really hog looking. I keep looking around the area only to see brief glimpses of hogbacks moving about in the tall grass. I looked back at the big dark square again and again as there was something about it I couldn't rule it out. It might be a hog. If it is, it's a huge one, but it wasn't moving. Plus it was so square. Eurasian hogs are usually higher in the front than in the back and feral domestic hogs are bent and rounded off like a hotdog. Much like all the other hogs I could see fading in and out of the grass. I look around some more in hopes that a hog would pass through an opening for a shot. Seconds seemed like minutes, as I knew I would either run out of legal shooting time or the wind would change and my presence in the herd would be made known. Neither situation was as favorable as me shooting something while remaining undetected. My eyes returned once again to the big dark square when suddenly, after several still minutes, it moved!

I couldn't believe it! The massive shape was a hog and a monster hog at that! That would explain the scary growling we heard. When it moved I was then able to make out which end was the front. It was huge! I quickly pulled up the rifle and brought it up to my face and shoulder and acquired my crosshairs. Wasting no more time I place my crosshairs deep into the grass where his chest should be and began to squeeze. With a loud, flashy burst of fire and lead, my trusty rifle barked out its one note song. Hogs were sent scattering in every direction. I heard what sounded like a hog crashing down and then running. As the blast echo rumbled down the canyon and last of the scattering hog noise settled there was silence. It was getting dark and I needed to resolve whether I indeed harvested the big hog. I looked back to where Amber was standing on the redwood stump and whispered, "12 yard shot, I hope it worked" She replies, "Oh you got it for sure, I heard it go down hard!" Before I could enjoy those words, I hear hogs coming back. Now there is more grunting and scuffling in the wallow. After giving the big hog time to expire it was dark and there is nothing left to do but back out and return in the morning.
That night was a night of sleepless dreams. We were so tired but so mentally exhausted from the encounter, the excitement and the wondering, that it was hard to sleep. Morning comes early when you set the clock for O'Dark: 30 am. We rise before the roosters and make breakfast anticipating the harvest. I said to Amber "I might have shot a big old sow because there were smaller pigs around it and the two boars that were fighting, weren't messing with the big hog. "
She replies, "It could be Ol' Split-Ear, nothing messes with that hog and the last time we saw him he had sounders playing around him while he lay in the grass."
We didn't think any more of it and headed out to find my hog. We got to the very spot where I took the shot at 10 paces. I see a large lump in the tall grass at the bottom of the small ravine. We walk toward it and Amber says, "I called it! IT'S OL' SPLIT EAR!" And it was Ol' Split Ear. I couldn't believe it. What a beast! His sheer mass was impressive enough. But looking at his scars and open battle wounds, as well as his huge, sharp tusks and ripped off ear was a humbling experience. This is an animal that could have taken me out. His hooves were bigger than my fists. His armor-covered shoulders were rock hard and his 22" mud and dread-locked tail flew like a flag of age and dominance. We were in the presence of a true forest warrior, a legend! At the end of the day, Amber had indeed guided me on a hog hunt that will never be forgotten. The boar will be immortalized forever in the stories we tell about the great beast and in the picture frames titled "Ol' Split Ear."

 

 

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