I’ve attended about fifty bull fights, a handful of cock fights, one heavyweight championship fight (Holmes-Cooney), and now I’ve hunted hogs with dogs. There are a number of other blood-sports out there, but not many others that I want to attend.

Rule #1 – Hunting Hogs With Dogs Is Not For Old Men. (Seventy-four is way too damned old.)

First, you are not in the greatest shape. Pretty good, for 74, but not great, as evidenced by the fact that a young lady less than half your age can outrun you in the 500 Yard Piney-Woods-Find-The-Hog-Foot-Race.

So basically, you are one step away from a heart attack.

I had heard hogs were scarce this winter, and I had sat in a double box-stand the previous evening and spotted only three hogs. It was about 4:30 in the afternoon, and they appeared (lasered) at 285 yards out, in a small opening, behind a gate. There was more gate than hog in my scope, so I held my fire.

The next morning I was in the same spot hoping the hogs would re-appear on my side of the gate…………..no luck.

I was about to go on walk-about when the phone started vibrating and “Randy” appeared on the screen. He told me if I planned to go with them I better drop the piano and get the hell back to camp. I got the message and cranked the 4-wheeler up.

I rolled up to find four other 4-wheelers, three side-by-sides, fourteen bay dogs, four Catch dogs, a hog trailer, and ten other hunters ready to go.

Rule #2 – No Guns Allowed

It’s for the safety of the hunters and the dogs. I’ve seen Australian YouTube videos of hogs being shot in the middle of dogs and hunters. I prefer the more professional approach.

We rolled. The plan was to cruise to the south boundary of the ranch, but before we got there we spotted hogs fifty yards off to the right in the pines. Everyone jerked to a halt and the first pack of bay dogs was released. We thought they would bay fairly quickly so we took off running with catch dogs in tow, or actually the other way around. We were being towed by the catch dogs. Running through the East Texas pines isn’t a straight forward situation. There is any number of creeks, briars, vines, brush, brambles, and broken limbs to trip you up. They have to be jumped, run through or around, or tripped over. I fell twice. We released the catch dogs about halfway into the run. The dogs knocked down two shoats. They were quickly grabbed and the race was on again.

The hogs headed for water to make their last stand. A catch dog caught up to one of the bayed hogs and dove in on him. We could tell about 75 yards away that another catch dog had nailed another hog and the fight had commenced. The first hog had two catch dogs hanging on by the time I got there. The men rushed in, grabbed the hog’s hind legs and flipped him. They hog-tied him with hobbles quickly, and moved to the second hog. All catch dogs got a piece of him, one on each ear, and one on the snout. They don’t seem to understand the word “Release”. So there is more than enough yelling to go around before the catch dogs can be pulled back.

Some of the bay dogs thought they were catch dogs, and kept trying to get a piece of the glory. (The owners say a bay dog that starts thinking he is a catch dog will usually end-up being a dead dog, as they aren’t wearing Kevlar vests like the catch dogs and the hog’s cutters will eventually unzip him. Their job is SPEED. The catch dog’s job is FIGHT.) Actually, the catch dog is wearing more than Kevlar, it’s more like Kevlar and ballistic nylon sandwiched between two more layers of high-grade nylon, with a heavy chest piece.

We eventually secured the hogs, marked their position, returned to the vehicles, and recovered all dogs.

Each dog was wearing a Garmin GPS-type collar so they could be tracked; showing their position, distance, direction of movement, barking characteristics, speed of movement, etc. (Some systems have satellite functionality.) High-tech turns the dog into a “heat” seeking missile when a hog is located.

Rule #3 – Thankfully, There Is No Rule Against Beer

We stopped at another good looking spot and released some bay dogs. They soon hit on hogs and the race was on. They put 700 yards on us and we raced back to the vehicles, and based on knowledge of the ranch, we tried to find a closer road to cut down the distance. We got within 500 yards and bailed out again. Running, not as quickly, I was able to stay upright this time. We had a large sow backed into a ravine with the dogs trying to hold her. She broke loose, bounding out of the ravine. The dogs cornered her again and she went back into the ravine. The catch dogs pinned her and the men dove in trying to secure the hind legs. The war finally ended with the sow strapped onto the front of a four wheeler. She was breathing heavy, but alive.

(I was offered the opportunity to stab a hog, but the circumstances don’t appeal to me so I passed. I guess it is supposed to be a rite of passage, but I don’t believe in those things.)

You can’t underestimate those catch dogs. They were pitbulls. One of the larger looked like he had a little dogo in him. After they had secured a hog I watched two of the smaller catch dogs quivering like they had had enough. Then you would corner another hog and they wouldn’t hesitate. One smaller brindle colored catch dog amazed me. The large, meaner looking catch dogs would get ready to go to war, and that small brindle pitbull, which should have been named "Bullet", or "Mike Tyson" since he liked chewing on ears, would fly past them and hit the hog with everything he had. Even after they had pulled him off and secured him to a tree, that crazy brindle would be coming off the ground trying to get back into the fray. (If he had hands I believe that dog would have unhooked his leash, ripped his Kevlar vest off, and whipped that hog’s ass all by himself.)

The bay dogs looked like Mountain Cur, with some Catahoula and maybe Plott mixed in. (A good one can cost a few thousand dollars I’m told.) They would run until they dropped off the screen. We tracked them out to one and a quarter miles. Sometimes we would lose them for an hour or so then suddenly they would turn up.

The dogs rode in dog boxes and some were clipped to purpose-built stands on the vehicles. That must have been a hell of a ride for them, and they were no doubt glad to hit the ground running at every opportunity.

We kept catching hogs until late in the afternoon. I was getting slower each time and at one point I thought I would ask them to release the hog and catch him again since I was late to the party, but they were some pretty rough looking dudes. They might not have seen the humor in that.

We killed two for my ice chest, one that had an ear missing and his snout broken. No doubt “Bullet’s” handiwork. We caught nine hogs, total. Each caused us a run of 400 yards or more.

The last hog ran us across creeks, over hills, and around every manner of obstacle before diving into a swamp with tall grass and palmettos. That didn’t save him. The catch dogs dove right in without hesitation.

(The hunters had told the story of a hog once that got a little too far out in the water for the hunters to reach, so they clipped a number of leashes together on one of the catch dogs and sent him. Once he latched-on, they drug the dog with the hog out together.)

The last hog ended-up being knifed and left, as it would have taken all night to get him out.

It was about that time when we noticed all us guys were standing way back, and one of the only people to make it to the kill was the aforementioned young lady who had gone in over the top of her Mucks and fought her way through the palmetto fronds. I would have felt bad except there were about six other shame-faced men standing beside me on dry land.

My injuries for the day were limited to ripped clothes, worn out Mucks, scratched thighs from all the thorns, and a deep cut to my right palm from a late fall. That’s a small price to pay for a good day hunting.

Sounds like a great day chasing hogs.

too bad there's not any pictures with this
story.

Thanks for sharing it with us.

George

Really cool.

Thank you.

Did mine in Molaki with the natives, an experence I recommend, but wont do again

I'm 74 like you, but no way I would dive into the middle of that I'll just keep on trapping and ambushing at night with the thermal

I want to do this hunt or black bear behind dogs.

I loved reading this. Laughed hard at Bullet’s description.

First and only hog dogging I went on I was a lot younger than 74! Long legged kids Left us old guys in the dark! When we finally caught them they were in the river. One holding on to a tree branch, holding on to the other, holding on to a pig! Dogs going nuts on the bank! Later, just me and my friend got in to the next one in a flooded corn field. Special, special, situation! When I caught up to him he was riding this huge sow, dogs hanging on, trying to stab her in the spine! He has already stuck the heart but she would not quit! Took four of us the next morning to load her on an ATV, pushing with 4 wheel drive! Biggest pig he had ever caught, 400 pounds on a certified scale. A rush to be sure, but once was enough for me!

Dusty:

You're a bit young yet pard.

Next Thursday I turn 77, IF I'm still around.

George

quote:

Originally posted by LHeym500:
I want to do this hunt or black bear behind dogs.

I loved reading this. Laughed hard at Bullet’s description.

I have been on dozens of bear chases with hounds.

It is some of the most exciting hunts for bears one can do.

When I was still able to run 10K's in 36min.

Chasing the hounds was a lot easier.

It takes a cool hand to close in on a pack of hounds and shoot the bear fighting with the dogs.

Unlike hogs no one is going to catch a bear and tie it up.

I would love to chase hogs with the hounds.

One concern I had was what the meat might taste like. Ever since I started hunting as a kid, everyone talked about meat being tainted if the animal was too stressed prior to death. I can't believe an animal can be any more stressed than a hog being caught by dogs after a run and then killed.

Having said that, I smoked three hams on Saturday and the three of us that got the meat all felt it tasted no different from a hog that had been taken with a one-shot kill.


NOTE: One detail I failed to mention was that we had one bay dog that suffered a three inch slash to it's shoulder. Luckily it was not very deep.

Here's a funny one to share. I think it's still funny over 50 years later.

Dad killed a black bear with 8" fat on his back.

The meat was good we thought. Two of the elk hunters were going to the hunting ranch to replace the kitchen floor. Took me along as I was going up for the hay crew job for the summer.

Mom fried up a bunch of small bear steaks for me. Driving up I was eating some of it. Frank driving, his brother Fred in the middle. both late 40's.

Asked what I was eating and just handed them each a piece of it. "man that's good, is it from your elk?" "no, it's Dad's bear"

Fred instantly barfed all over the dash of the truck.

George

Rather eat a good bear any day over deer.

That is the only bear I've ever eaten.
Decent, almost flavorless though.
Not as much so as Dad's moose was.
Gosh those were huge beautiful steaks.
sure not much flavor though.

George

Aloha Eny

Do you remember who you hunted with on Moloka'i?

quote:

Originally posted by UltraMag:
Aloha Eny

Do you remember who you hunted with on Moloka'i?

Dalphine, If thats how you spell it.

77? thats no hill for a stepper, I gotcha beat by nearly 10 years..still hunting horseback, in a pickup, and doing a little team roping..

I drove around in a pickup and watched a bunch of young cowboyw catch those pigs with bare hands tie them up and hauled about 10 to the Sat. sale Barn. I thought that was pretty Western..

Ive roped a number of Javalina, have to heel them as they usually scoot thru a loop due to their shape. Ive roped deer, antelope, roped at a coyote, chased a black bear but he climbed a tree so I shot him..AND THE BEST OF THE BUNCH WAS WHEN I ROPED A FULLL GROWN MATURE EAGLE ON OUR LEASED RANCH IN MEXICO, AN INTERESTING AND FUNNY STORY.

Thanks for sharing, Ken. I would have had to sit in the ATV on this rodeo, as I am about to have more back surgery -- in ELP.