Hey y'all,
I hope the week is going well! I'll admit I am dragging quite a bit. Being out of town for the last three weekends has done me in. Friday's are cleaning days/catch up on all laundry, and we've been gone the last three Friday's. You can imagine. It makes me feel all out of wack. However, last night when I got home from a wedding shower, I discovered that Casey had taken care of all the laundry, washed the dishes, and put clean sheets on the bed. He's a keeper, that husband of mine.
Speaking of guys that are keepers, my brother shared a story with me out of his hunting journal this past weekend. Let me be the first to tell you that Stephen can write some enthralling stories. Actually, it's not just stories he can write, he is a good writer period. He won a $3000 scholarship because of an essay he wrote this past year. He usually has some pretty great facebook status too. (Ok, I'm done bragging). Anyway, I'm posting the same story I read on Sunday afternoon, and you can see that I'm not just being biased because I'm his older sister. He also has provided a couple of pictures. Warning: the second picture is not for those who only enjoy viewing live animals.
December 23, 2010
My hunt takes place at Dahomey National Wildlife Refuge. Colin Bell, a friend from junior college, has come to hunt the Delta with Aaron and me. We are hunting around one of the many cypress breaks the refuge has to offer. Around 2:30 P.M. we split up to walk in different directions around the break with hopes of jumping up wild hogs. Aaron accompanies Colin and I strike out by myself. Our plan is to meet at the far end of the break. I walk a complete circle and never see Colin or Aaron. After texting them, I find out Colin has found a bedding or wallowing area and wants to wait there for a little while. I too find a place where it appears several hogs have lain down and heavy hoof traffic has come through. I sit with my back against a young bald cypress an estimated fifteen yards from the mud beds and game trail.
Maybe fifteen minutes before it gets too dark to shoot, I hear hogs coming. They make a tremendous amount of noise coming through the leaves. At first it is faint and sounds like a traveling armadillo, but after hearing several heavy sounding bodies, I know it must be hogs. They pause every now and then along their route. The only way I can tell they stop moving is because the noise they were making in the leaves would cease. As they draw nearer, it grows too dark for my eyes to see clearly. I scan the bald cypress trees and dense underbrush with my scope, hoping to catch a glimpse of a hog on the move. As they close in on my position, I can hear them grunting and squealing. I can imagine one pig biting another’s tail, forcing the gutturally scream from his repulsive throat and snout. It sounds like there is a bunch of hogs, and my heart beats faster with every step and grunt I hear. Suddenly, I hear the goblins stop what sounds like a mere ten yards from me in the thick brush. Quickly, I cock the hammer of my primitive rifle. I press my cheek tightly against a cold wooden stock as my muscles tighten and goose bumps roll over my skin. I cannot see a thing! The light is almost gone now and the thicket is too dense to see through. The sulfur rich mud no longer bothers my nostrils. All of my senses are tuned in to detect the slightest twitch of an ear or hear the breathing of a boar. After an intense standoff, I guess the hogs smell me because they turn around and go back the way they came. I slowly release the grip on my rifle and ease the hammer back to safe. My hands are moist with sweat as I lean my back against the tree. I think back to the standoff and how I thought of firing my rifle just to scare the goblins back. But I was taught as a young hunter to always know my target before firing, so this thought quickly left my mind.
The air grew colder all of a sudden and chills from the adrenaline and the nighttime air cause my body to shake. I watch my breath dance in and out of the flashlight beam as I wait on Aaron and Colin to come to my position.
As the hogs were departing, I text Aaron which way they were going and told him they could cut them off if he and Colin went around the other side of the break.
I received a text back informing me hogs could be territorial and that it was too dark to chance an encounter.
Colin whistled to me and I whistled back to help them zero in on my location.
As soon as they walked up, a pack of coyotes broke the silence of the nighttime air with a series of shrill howls. Aaron and Colin said they could hear the hogs walking and Aaron said he saw one dart across a gap for only a split second.
I made the hair stand up on the back of their necks as I briefly retold my encounter.
We talked excitedly of our hunt all the way home and late into the night.
Stephen is pictured on the right, and Alec (on left) was not in the above story.
![]()
