It's been a while since I've had time to post, and this site runs on content from the members, so it's time for me to pull some weight and post a coupla stories. Here's one from 2015.
Slimshady rolled down to hunt with me on the San Marcos property.
The principals there hunt whitetail, turkey and dove. I have free run in the off-season to shoot whatever else I like. Which are hogs and the occasional coyote.
My contribution to the 600 acre property is sweat equity and acting as James Garner in "The Great Escape" - the scavenger who somehow procures needed items (air conditioners, game cams, computer equipment, microwave, etc.) in the prison camp.
Sure, it would be more fun stealing this stuff from the Nazis, but normally I just hit Craig's list. It's not a perfect world.
We got there after sunset and decided to split up to a couple of elevated box blinds. We were the only known individuals on the property, but made the usual safety procedure about remaining text contact with each other and not moving from our blind without notifying the other and receiving confirmation.
His was a beautiful large open air blind, about 15 foot up and 90 yards from the feeder which had thrown about half an hour before.
(I am particularly fond of this blind; I haven't shot many hogs from it, but when I dropped my PS 24 off the ledge a couple of years ago it didn't break. A reminder that you don't have to burn a cartridge to have a good night hunting).
I was a couple hundred yards away walking in the darkness with only my red headlamp, about halfway to my spot when I heard his thermal .308 go off.
About five seconds later, the brush around me exploded as a sounder of about a dozen hogs of all sizes came running out of the brush directly at me then scattering into the thicket on the other side of the trail. 'Twas one of those situations in which hogs ten yards away might as well be a mile out.
My first thought was that he had shot one pig in a sounder at his feeder, and that they had bolted my direction.
Then I realized that the hogs had come from the direction of MY feeder, and that my opportunity had been blown.
He texted a few moments later to confirm a hog down and we agreed to meet at the feeder to retrieve it from the muddy wallow underneath.
Upon arriving, I found he had already trussed up the hind legs and was busy slogging it out of the mud. It was a large boar that I had seen on camera over the last year, but only in the wee hours of the morning but never got a shot at.
And Slim had done kilt it within three minutes of climbing up into the box blind.
Apparently, I'm a helluva guide.
Now those of us who have hosted hunts understand the risks involved. The basic premise is this – don't bring a guest unless you are fully prepared for him/her to take the mossy antlered buck, Harley high gobbler, or, in my case particular case, the nasty brute that might put you in the SV club.
And, in the process, inadvertently stampede hogs away from YOUR designated stand.
As it turned out, this old timer taped in at about 230. Slim looked like he was really focused on dragging him, and I hated to break his concentration, so I let him enjoy hauling him out alone.
I wouldn't have been much help anyway.
You know, what with my gimpy earlobe and all.
Slimshady rolled down to hunt with me on the San Marcos property.
The principals there hunt whitetail, turkey and dove. I have free run in the off-season to shoot whatever else I like. Which are hogs and the occasional coyote.
My contribution to the 600 acre property is sweat equity and acting as James Garner in "The Great Escape" - the scavenger who somehow procures needed items (air conditioners, game cams, computer equipment, microwave, etc.) in the prison camp.
Sure, it would be more fun stealing this stuff from the Nazis, but normally I just hit Craig's list. It's not a perfect world.
We got there after sunset and decided to split up to a couple of elevated box blinds. We were the only known individuals on the property, but made the usual safety procedure about remaining text contact with each other and not moving from our blind without notifying the other and receiving confirmation.
His was a beautiful large open air blind, about 15 foot up and 90 yards from the feeder which had thrown about half an hour before.
(I am particularly fond of this blind; I haven't shot many hogs from it, but when I dropped my PS 24 off the ledge a couple of years ago it didn't break. A reminder that you don't have to burn a cartridge to have a good night hunting).
I was a couple hundred yards away walking in the darkness with only my red headlamp, about halfway to my spot when I heard his thermal .308 go off.
About five seconds later, the brush around me exploded as a sounder of about a dozen hogs of all sizes came running out of the brush directly at me then scattering into the thicket on the other side of the trail. 'Twas one of those situations in which hogs ten yards away might as well be a mile out.
My first thought was that he had shot one pig in a sounder at his feeder, and that they had bolted my direction.
Then I realized that the hogs had come from the direction of MY feeder, and that my opportunity had been blown.
He texted a few moments later to confirm a hog down and we agreed to meet at the feeder to retrieve it from the muddy wallow underneath.
Upon arriving, I found he had already trussed up the hind legs and was busy slogging it out of the mud. It was a large boar that I had seen on camera over the last year, but only in the wee hours of the morning but never got a shot at.
And Slim had done kilt it within three minutes of climbing up into the box blind.
Apparently, I'm a helluva guide.
Now those of us who have hosted hunts understand the risks involved. The basic premise is this – don't bring a guest unless you are fully prepared for him/her to take the mossy antlered buck, Harley high gobbler, or, in my case particular case, the nasty brute that might put you in the SV club.
And, in the process, inadvertently stampede hogs away from YOUR designated stand.
As it turned out, this old timer taped in at about 230. Slim looked like he was really focused on dragging him, and I hated to break his concentration, so I let him enjoy hauling him out alone.
I wouldn't have been much help anyway.
You know, what with my gimpy earlobe and all.
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