Can you believe Christmas is only 10 days away? Where has December gone? Where has 2015 gone? Craziness!

Know what else is crazy? Hog hunting. Specifically, hog hunting on a small island in the ACE Basin where the brush and marsh grass are so thick that you can hear a hog 15 feet away from you but you can’t see him and you just hope your trigger finger is fast enough to still be the predator instead of becoming the prey. That sounds [a touch] dramatic, but I KID YOU NOT.

It. Was. Awesome.

So… You think there are a few hogs around there or what?

John and I were fortunate enough to be invited on what sounded like an epic hog hunting adventure over the weekend. Four hunters, at least 2 weapons each, walking and stalking a small tract of land south of Jacksonboro surrounded by river and marsh. As you can see, they have [as my dad likes to say] “an ass of hogs” on the property, and could use a little help in… Thinning the herd, we’ll say.

The land looks like someone set off grenades for a week straight – no tilling or any sort of tractor activity is done out there. That’s all hog. And when I say “hog,” I mean the little ones to the big ones. There is so much hog sign out there – from small poo and little tracks to soft-ball size poo and tracks that made me nervous, and from small snout marks in the ground to extra large tusk marks on tree trunks. Actually, that’s what made me the most nervous. Hogs like to rub against trees and stumps to itch and scratch, often leaving behind muddy, worn areas in the bark. Know what they also can leave behind? Tusk marks. Those big boars with big tusks rub their faces & noses against a tree, and their tusks leave big scratches in the bark. If those tusks are sharp enough to cut through part of a tree, just imagine what they’d do to your leg.

The rub above came up to around mid-thigh. I’m about 5’10, so… You do the math on how tall the back of this hog would be. YIKES. Needless to say, I was on hyper-alert status with my gun always at the ready. And a tree I could climb (if necessary) in sight.

As soon as we got onto the island, we split up in pairs to try and drive the hogs to a particular area. Just as John and I were about to cross a marshy area, we saw one of the other hunters signalling that a hog was coming our way. Sure enough, it was grunting and snorting its way through the grass in front of us a few seconds later. With the marsh grass close to 4 or 5 feet tall, there’s no way we could see it, but boy we heard it coming. As it closed in on us, we raised our guns and got ready to shoot. I didn’t know what was going to come out of that grass, but I didn’t want to lose any reaction time in case it was a biggun’. Fifteen feet out from us, and still out of sight, it stopped. I’m guessing it winded us because it turned it’s direction and headed off through even thicker brush and then was gone.

WHEW. Talk about an adrenaline rush. Hogs aren’t like deer, who will try to get away from you no matter what if they feel threatened. Hogs will try, sure, but if they feel cornered or trapped in any way, they’ll turn on you in a second. Then who’s the big bad hunter, huh? Not me! I’m unloading my gun on it and running to the nearest tree I can climb. Hogs are astonishingly fast and even more surprisingly tough, and you don’t want to be on the losing end of that battle.

We walked and stalked a little longer and crept to the edge of the marsh, which opened up on one side for a few hundred yards. As we sat listening, we heard the unmistakable snorting and splashing of a hog wallowing in a mud flat somewhere in front of us. Once again, we split up in pairs and the other two hunters headed out into the marsh from one direction, while John and I made our way forward. The idea was that one pair would jump the hog (or hogs… fingers crossed), sending it in the direction of the other pair. After about 20 minutes, we hadn’t seen anything. The hog likely heard or smelled us and just hunkered down, but we’ll never know. Suddenly, I heard a round of shots being fired. Woohoo! One of the guys had jumped a group and was able to take a few shots. Yet again, that daggum marsh grass got in the way. It’s awfully hard to hit a moving target, especially when its mostly concealed and you’re in knee-deep pluff mud.

For the next 30 minutes, John and I posted up in the brush, keeping our eyes and ears open in the hopes that something would sneak back up to land to feed. Again, we could hear them around us, but couldn’t see them, and they weren’t coming any closer any time soon.

Unfortunately, we came away empty handed in terms of hogs, but definitely not in terms of an exciting hunt. As I’ve mentioned before, the hunt isn’t always about the kill. In fact, most of the time (for me at least) it isn’t. Sure I’ve left the deer stand or duck blind disappointed because I was empty handed, but I always appreciate the hunt itself and my opportunity to do so. This hunt was no exception! The surges of adrenaline and hyper-aware senses are what I absolutely love about hunting.

Am I right? [And by “I,” I mean Fred Bear, of course]. At the end of the day, we had an awesome time and got to watch the sun set over the marshes of the ACE Basin.

[Pardon the awkward selfie… Not sure what was happening. BTW – I look relatively clean, but the lower 1/4 of my body was 100% covered in pluff mud.]

Not  a bad spot to spend the afternoon, huh?

PS – A big thank you to the guys who took us!