Hog Hunting Hullabaloo: Bringing Home the Bacon

Just past sunset, our hope dwindling, we finally found a big boar, scarfing acorns under a stout oak. It was Donna’s shot, so I sat still in the back of the Jeep. Everything looked good; the pig dropped to the shot, then rolled into a depression behind the tree. It was getting dark, so we had better check quickly. Our rancher friend, Tony Lombardo, bailed out of the front seat, passed Donna, and vanished over the lip.

A second later, he came running back with an angry boar popping its jaws at his heels. I had no idea Tony could move so fast. He jinked, got clear, and another shot solved the problem. It was a big, blond-colored boar, its tusks thick and sharp. Old and thin...

Continue Reading