At an undisclosed location in southern Louisiana, near the Gulf of Mexico, Seamus and I took the little flat boat down the river while John watched for the herd of hogs that were frequently visiting the camp in the evening. Seamus and I found a “lookout towerâ€, which was actually a weather station and spotlight tower for the nearby shipping channel. Once on top, we glassed with binoculars and found a herd of hogs rooting around an island.






We watched for the direction of the wind pushing the tall reeds and planned our stalk. We swung wide down river in the little floating aluminum coffin and landed on the beach from the opposite side, idling low and slow with the four stroke Honda purring like a kitten. The reeds were several feet over our heads at the shore, but then the vegetation opened to boggy grass about chest high. There were tunnels and trails throughout, resembling an interstate highway system. We could hear the herd snorting and chomping their jaws, still unaware of our presence. A couple of boars were fighting nearby.

The grass and reeds were rustling together loudly with the blowing winds, so it helped mask the sound of us breaking through the weeds and sloshing in the slop. About a hundred yards into the shorter grass, I surprised a big pig in thick grass about eighty yards away. I let one fly with the Browning Stainless Stalker in 7mm Rem Mag as it was quartering away. Smack!! He disappeared into the grass headed towards Seamus.

“Great.†I thought, “A shitty shot on a wounded pig headed for Seamus in tall grass.â€

We continued pushing in towards the herd. We positioned ourselves so the wind was now taking our scent towards the pigs, forcing them to concentrate into a point on the island. They had two options. Face the strong current and a quarter mile swim or face us. They chose us. Rushing out of the house, I left the box of ammo sitting by the door and left the magazine for the AR-15 in the truck, leaving Seamus with only a single round in his borrowed rifle. Shit. John had given me two rounds of 7mm mag, which I thought would be plenty. Wrong. With one round left in the chamber and the pigs getting very loud and restless in chest high grass, I began having second thoughts. The wounded pig crossed my mind again. Seamus should have been right on top of him by now. I hoped his health insurance was up-to-date. Just then I could see the grass parting as he pushed out a brave little sow. I put my crosshairs in a tiny opening in the grass, then KAWOOOMMM!! The big rifle barked as lung butter splattered the reeds behind her.
“Shit, I’m out of ammo!†I yelled to Seamus. He responded with a nod and a wave signaling that he was headed deeper into the tall tunnel forming reeds.

The pigs were really uneasy now and becoming even louder. The tops of the grass and reeds near the beach looked like they were dancing with their nervous shifting movements. The hogs had balled up into a tight bunch and were ready to rumble. As a weapon of last resort, I pulled the .22 Hammerli pistol from my holster. Although accurate and a tried and true favorite, it was not the weapon of choice against pissed off swamp pigs cornered on a island with the pungent stench of their fallen brethren permeating the air. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Seamus pull up the AR-15, but with his hesitation to fire off a round, it was apparent that he couldn’t get a clear shot through the grass. He held it there for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the pigs could not handle the tension any more. It was time to break out! I pulled my pistol up as I saw the grass moving about twenty yards away. Then I could hear the sloshing of it split toes quickly getting closer. Before I knew it I had a hog coming at me in a tunnel of grass 6 feet away. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! I dumped eight rounds of Winchester Power Points into its head and side as it skirted past me just inches away. Then BLAM! BLAM! I put two more into the beast to drop it in the opening just another ten yards away. I spun around and loaded another magazine. My heart was racing and I could feel my face burning hot and the chill of my sweat against the cold wind.







It was getting dark and there was a enough meat on the ground for one hunt. We could still hear the pigs in the tallest of the reeds, but we decided to let them go. After a coup de gras finishing round to the biggest of the two pigs we found, we dragged them back to the boat for some quick pictures and a slow, cold, wet, but very satisfying three mile ride back to camp.

Very interesting hunt! Thanks for sharing

Now that sounds like fun!

kenati, you've got a good way with words. I enjoyed your story.

Great story!! Thanks for sharing it and congratulations on the successful hunt!! I always bring a boat-load of ammo with me -- just in case!

Great hunt !!!!!
Thanks for sharing the pics with us
Those pigs look more "european" than most of the pigs hunted in other areas of the states. At least for the pictures posted here.
L

Very intersting hunt ,excelent report ,i would like to hunt there with my DOGOS dogs .Juan