This past Wednesday, I went up to Olney to help out a friend on some of his Deer Leases.

Robert operates Mesquite Creek Outfitters in Young, Archer and Baylor counties.

This part of Texas has finally started getting some rain, and Robert had emailed me early Wed. morning to let me know that they had received 2 inches of rain.

This was going to pose a problem getting in and out of some of the areas on the places to check blinds and fill the corn and protien feeders.

When I got to his house, we decided to go ahead and see what we could get done on at least a couple of the places.

We picked up a load of corn and headed for the place in Baylor county, and from the looks of everything along the highway between Olney and Seymour, we probably were not going to get much done.

After we turned north off of the main highway and headed toward the ranch, we got to noticing that there was not as much water in the ditches and fields.

By the time we got to the gate, we realized that the ranch had only gotten about 1/3rd. of the rain places a few miles south had received.

We ended up getting a good bit of work done, and decided that I would stay over night with him and his wife and try to get some more stuff done on Thursday.

After supper and a strategy session, we all turned in for the night, only to be waken up about 2 hours later by thundering and lightning.

Ended up getting an additional 2 and 1/4 inches of rain that night.

Robert had to go to his families store to take care of some business, so I loaded up and drove out to one of the places we were going to be working at, moving some cattle off of, and could not even get into the front gate, it had rained more out there than in town.

So, I called Robert, and told him I was going to run out to the place north of town where we had corned the pasture roads the day before, and waklk in and check to see if the ponds had caught any water and see if the deer or hogs had found the corn lines.

As I was headed toward the gate to park my pick up, I passed the end of the wheat field that is on the place, and looked down the pasture road at the end of the field.

There were at least 2 feral hogs trotting down the road headed back into the mesquites.

I sped up and went thru the gate and parked by the hunting cabin.

I called Robert on my cell phone and told him what I had seen and asked if I could go see if I could get one of the pigs.

He said Go For It and to call if I needed any help if I got one.

The place had received a good bit of rain, and I could not and did not want to drive very far into the place as it was already good daylight, about fifteen to thirty minutes after 7 in the morning.


I get my pick up parked where I wanted it grabbed, my rifle of choice for the past few years, an Interarms Mark X in 375 H&H with a Cabela's Fixed 6 power Pine Ridge scope, and realized that all the shells I had with me for the rifle were the 3 in the magazine, loaded with 250 grain Barnes "X" Flat Base bullets.

Those 3 shells became a very intergal component of what happened that morning.

I headed for the area where I had seen the hogs on my way in, but because of the wind, I had to make a big loop to the south to get the wind in my favor for the stalk.

I get to the area where I had seen the hogs, they weren't there, but fresh tracks and muddy water from 3 or 4 hogs were everywhere.

I began following their trail for a couple of hundred yards, but the way they were headed was away from the corn lines.

With the way the wind was blowing and the direction I was headed, I broke off following the trail and cut over to where we had started putting out the corn.

The rain had washed a lot of the corn off to the sides of the road.

After reaching the corn line, I noticed that there had been several deer on the line, but in the first 50 to 75 yards or so, no sign of hogs.

I was easing along watching the line, when I noticed something big and reddish brown off to the side of the road on the corn line.

My first thought was a calf, and then remembered that there were no cattle on that place or the one adjoining it, adrenalin kicks in.

I am easing down the side of the road, using the shade and the brush to hide some of my movements.

I ease up to about 75 maybe 80 yards of the pig, see that it is a good sized one and alone.

I stop and get the rifle up and the cross hairs on him.

It is getting pretty sunny in the spot he is feeding, and warming up, and he gets to getting a little fidgety.

It looks like I have a good sight picture and get ready for the shot and he moves forward a few inches with one quick step, and I get worried that he is fixing to leave out, so I rush the shot a tad.

Now from the picture I had, he appeared to be mostly broadside, quartering toward me, when in reality, he was quartering slightly away from me.

I was happy with what I was looking at, and let fly.

At the shot, he started spinning and squealing and I thought it appeared that his right front leg was broke.

Then I noticed what appeared to be guts hanging down under his chest.

I am reloaded and waiting for a clear finisher, and he takes off and I lose sight of him in the brush.

I mentally kick myself in the arse, but feel that it was a hit that would put him down, not real sure of how quick or how far he would go.

I ease down the road to where I last saw him, and was fairly sure that he had went into a clump of tall weeds and fairly thick 1 to 3 inch diameter 4 to 8 foot tall mesquites.

I have the wind in my favor, so I circle the clump, which is about 50 yards long and maybe 20 yards wide at the widest point.

No pig, and no sign that the pig came out anywhere.

I go back over to the area where I last saw him after the shot, and find that he had crossed the road and was moving paralelle behind where I had been standing when I took the shot.

Blood Pressure went up a few points, because I did not know how close I had come to him on my original approach to the area.

I start following the blood trail, get back into some thick mesquites, and the next thing I know, I hear a snap and grunt, and find out I have worked my way to withing 15 yards or so of him, without seeing him, and he takes off thru the brush.

I get the scope on him, but just flat miss the first follow up shot.

He goes out of sight after the shot, and I stop and breathe a little while.

I work my way over to the new last place I saw him and immediately find blood and stomach contents.

I start tracking again and with in 20 yards come out on the pasture road, about 10 yards in front of where I had taken the first shot.

The trail went straight across the road and into some more thick mesquites.

I crossed the road and stopped just on the other side, and hear grunting and look thru the brush, and there in a smallish wallow, stands the hog, having a hard time staying on its feet and breathing.

It looks up, sees me, and decides he is tired of my chit, and starts thru the trees at me at his best speed.

I pull the gun up, get the crosshairs on his back as he is headed my way, and as he makes a move to the right to go around a mesquite, I let fly shot number 3, my last shot.

I connect, across the top of his shoulders, enough to turn him.

Now, I am standing there, about a mile from my pick up with an empty rifle and a hurt, pissed off pig setting some where watching me, or at least I think that is what is going on with him.

I ease out of the artea and head back for my pick up.

I don't have any more 375 shells with me, they are in Robert's pick up, but I do have two other options.

I call Robert and tell him what is going on and that as soon as I get things containerized, I will call and we will figure out how to recover the carcass.

My choices at the pick up are Lora's 257 Robert's and 117 grain Rem. Core Loct factory ammo, or my 1894 Marlin in 44 Rem Mag with some 270 grain Buffalo Bore Flat Nose bullets.

I decide that with the brush and the size of the pig, the 44 will probably be a better choice.

I grab it, a few extra shells and head back to the scene of the crime.

I get there and start into the brush and in the name of all that is anti-climatic, I find the pig grave yard dead about 25 yards or so from where I fired my last shot.

Upon examination of the carcass, I had pulled the first shot low, and had ripped a 1 and 1/2 inch wide by 8 inch long gash across the floor of its chest, just into the abdominal cavity.

With that opening thru the abdominal cavity, its stomach and a large portion of its intestines had been pushed out of the body cavity.

Not a shot I was proud of by any means.

It did get the job done, but only after the pig had covered about 100 yards and received a second round across the top of the spine, a shot which actually only served to turn the critter and did only minimal damage.

From the time I made the original shot, until we had the animal loaded into my pick up, a total time of 2 hours had elapsed, and even though I am not proud of the shots, I am proud of being able to recover the animal.

By my best figuring live weight of the animal was about 270 pound.

It is by far the prettiest colored hog I have ever shot.