Recently in Hunting Category

Part of the human condition is that we make an emotional investment in our hardware. We allow a caliber, cartridge, or specific firearm to define us rather than the other way around. It is understandable, as many of us are happy to say we are a "Bud-man," a "Harley-man," a "Swaro kind of guy," or a variety of other tenuous ways of describing nothing in particular. Though we talk of "inherent accuracy" (a dubious concept, indeed), few would attempt defining it, only parroting that it exists.

We take the same path in using unsophisticated terms to describe sophisticated events. "Knock-down" is one, a physically impossible concept that is never the less widely used. The same strained, tortured approach is used to define "kinetic energy" and "energy transfer." Autopsies are not fun reads; nor are obituaries. We will search long and hard to find a medical report that lists "kinetic energy" as the cause of death.

Surely, after all these years, there must be one recorded instance where a human being lost his life to a sudden gust of kinetic energy? Yet, medical journals are generally void of energy and velocity as causes of death. Perhaps it is because neither ever is. Those waiting for the Surgeon General to alert us to avoid kinetic energy exposure are in for a very long wait, indeed.

The Gut-Wrenching Nightmare of Caliber Worship
by Randy Wakeman

Gunshot taken at 7:07am east Texas time, photo shot taken at 8:43am, Tuesday last week:

As mentioned in a previous post tonight, this was taken from about 110 metres, from a blind near an identified hog trail, on a very large ranch of a friend of mine. I waited for 20 minutes before determining that none of the hog's clan would be following in his hoofsteps before calling my buddies (also in blinds about a mile from mine) for retrieval.

Last week, I took a coyote, a feral hog, and assisted in a friend's take of another feral hog, using one 150-grain Remington Core-Lokt in .308 caliber shot from a Jeff Cooper edition Steyr Scout in each encounter. This particular round (or remains thereof) I dug out from underneath the skin of the one I took:

This particular round hit the hog midships, high, and completely busted the spine, spleen, and vented the lower lobes of the lungs, causing pneumothorax evidenced by a "deflating balloon" sound when I first moved the hog carcass. Intererestingly, the lead core seems to have punched through the hog, leaving the copper jacket:

Here, I show the path of the bullet, taken by the hog from about 110 metres, entering starboard and (partially) exiting port:

You know, in this shot, I look almost as (literally) knackered as the hog itself. East Texas is hot and humid this time of year...

Once again:

"A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects."

Robert A. Heinlein
The Notebooks of Lazarus Long

[This is the second of two articles contributed by my friend Franklin David Van Ardoy Jr. - Russell]

The Method of the Hunt

The following is a synopsis of the hunt Clayton Cameron and his crew ran with Frank Maestri and me [Van Ardoy]. Every aspect of the hunt is systematic and orderly to ensure efficiency and effectiveness.

The hunt is run with great organization. Two handlers lead the Pit Bulls on leashes while the hounds move about freely and detect the hogs. The Pit Bulls, which are protected with a chest and rib pad that also serves as a harness, remain under human control until the handlers verify that a hog has been bayed. The hounds, which remain unprotected, howl to each other and the hunting party when a hog is located. The hounds descend on the location of the hog and all hounds encircle the hog to keep it at bay. When the hunting party arrives, the dog handlers confirm baying of the hog and they release the Pit Bulls. The Pit Bulls charge the hog with a fury only surpassed in an armor assault. Each Pit Bull rushes the hog with his eyes on the hog’s ears and each takes an ear. They then pin the hog to the ground and await the handlers.
The handlers must then assume separate roles. One holds the hog in an ankle lock while reaching for his pry bar. Clayton takes this role. He pins the hog and removes the Pit Bulls from the hog’s ears with his pry bar. The Pit Bulls will have their jaw clamped down so hard that only the pry bar will remove the dogs from the hog’s ears. A second handler approaches with the leashes to attach to the harness and pull back the Pit Bulls. With the hog in an ankle lock, someone from the hunting party approaches and stabs the hog in the neck and heart. The puncturing of the heart often results in blood spraying fifteen to twenty feet. At this time, the hunter cannot avoid getting hog blood on his knife, hand, arm and legs.

[This is the first of two articles contributed by my friend Franklin David Van Ardoy Jr. - Russell]

The most exciting hunt of my life occurred late last month, March 2006, in Texas. My friend Frank Maestri invited me to the family ranch in Mount Pleasant for a week of hunting feral hogs. I took my Browning BAR in .30-06 with a Tasco Illuminated Reticle Scope. I had zeroed the rifle and scope with 150 gr. Winchester Power Point bullets. Frank used his new lightweight Weatherby in .25-06. Both rifles were up to the task of hunting the big fields of the ranch.

The first four days of the hunt were unproductive. Only Frank’s father, Mike, saw a hog. He shot the young boar through the heart at 75 yards with his .243 caliber “truck rifle.” The constant rain of the first half of my visit drove the animals into the dense woods along the creek and the river. Apparently, feral hogs do not like cold, heavy rain and they were seeking cover. The hogs did not begin to appear until the day after the rain slowed to a gentle shower.