Post by depcon3 on Nov 13, 2016 1:42:34 GMT -5
I had a chance to take a good sized hog with my 5 1/2" .45Colt Blackhawk on 10/30/16. A friend of mine has some acreage outside of Marble Falls in Burnet County, TX and has been seeing quite a few hogs running around his place lately. He shoots into them when he gets the chance, but has been very busy with his Heating/AC business this year and hasn't been able to keep the pressure up on the hogs. He has a bow hunting treestand up on a brushy ridgetop, it's tucked into a smaller Live Oak and it's about a 15 yard shot to the feeder. He's seen some large hogs on his game cameras and suggested I sit in his bow blind to see what would come in.
The evening of October 30th, I climbed into the bow blind at about 5pm and got settled in to wait for the sun to get low and the feeder to go off. The feeder went off at 6pm like it was supposed to but didn't throw much corn since it was about empty. There was enough corn to make some noise as it hit the spinner plate of the feeder, and I got ready to see what would come in.
The first arrival was a large bodied spike Whitetail buck. I had seen him before, and wasn't surprised to see him again. Previously he's been in the company of a very suspicious and nervy doe but was alone on this evening. He made a sweep through the area looking for the corn he'd heard run out of the feeder. He seemed disappointed with the slim pickings he found but did take time to grab what kernels he could find. He presented me with several good opportunities for shots with the Blackhawk, but it was not yet gun season for Whitetail and I didn't have permission for deer in any case. I'll have to ask my friend about taking a good cull buck out of the gene pool later on in the season.
After the spike buck left the vicinity, nothing much happened for about 15 minutes and then I heard a coyote bark a bit and then let out a short howl. It was still full daylight out but I suppose the 'yote was getting ready to hunt with the coming darkness. It sounded like it was only about 100 yards to the northeast of my position, and I wondered if I would see it before dark. My attention was focused on the direction of the coyotes short musical presentation, and I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye. The second visitor to the feeder was a good Hill Country 8 pointer. This Whitetail buck had also been seen with the nervy doe and the spike but was alone on this evening. I guess the bucks have broken up their bachelor groups with the rut coming on soon. The 8 pointer's headgear is not really wide, about even with the tips of his ears, but has really good mass with nice, long tines and good symmetry. He looked to be about 3 to 4 years old, just starting to have a little bow to his backbone and a slight belly. Not a mature, old buck but not a young'un, either. He'd make a good candidate for my friend's longbow. This buck didn't stay around very long, not comfortable with being in the open without scoring some corn for his trouble, I suppose. The howling of the coyote surely added to his unease. He reversed course and disappeared into the Cedars and brush.
Soon after the 8 pointer exited stage left, the sun dropped low enough into the horizon that the light began to change quickly. The coyote started yipping and howling again, soon joined by a whole passel of cohorts. There seemed to be at least 5 to 6 songdogs throwing their voices to the sky, and I felt my pulse quicken in primal response to the sound of predators nearby. I was certainly not the only hunter looking to succeed on this evening!
I reached into my pack hanging on a stub of a tree branch and grabbed my phone, hoping to capture the coyotes vocal handiwork. I was able to record some of their sounds and was returning the phone to the pack when I heard a new noise coming from the brush located on the southwest edge of the clearing in front of me. It was the sound of a larger animal moving through the brush, and it wasn't careful and dainty. It was the confident, careless movement of a creature who is not concerned about what lies ahead in the clearing it is entering. It had to be a hog!
In the quickly diminishing light I saw a dark shape emerge from the brush and began to search for kernels of corn. It worked it's way toward me and I raised the Blackhawk and waited for the hog to move past the last remaining tree branch between the two of us. As I watched the hog, I saw that it was all black and would make it difficult to see the black sights of my sixgun clearly in the failing light. I hoped I could get a clean shot, and then realized the grass nearby would make a good contrasting background for the sights. I got the sight picture I needed, and held just off the hogs body while I waited for it to get past the edge of the tree branch. The pig quartered towards me with his left shoulder, and I moved the revolver's sights onto the pig's shoulder. I held my breath and began to apply pressure to the trigger, in an instant the Blackhawk spoke and rolled in my hand under the recoil of the powder coated 300g wide flat point bullet. 22 grains of Hodgdon 110 sent the bullet into the hog's shoulder. He almost went down but regained his footing with a lunge back in the direction he'd come from. I had time to cock the hammer and fire a second shot at the hog as it sped off into the brush, but I'm pretty sure I missed on the second shot. I listened as the hog crashed through the brush, mesquite, and prickly pear cactus for a few seconds before piling up and thrashing about. After a short bit, all was quiet again. The coyotes had quit their music-making at the sound of the shot, and even the crickets waited before resuming their chirping.
I holstered the Blackhawk and tried to get my heart rate back down to a normal level, waiting about 20 minutes or so before gathering my gear and climbing down from the tree stand. It was fully dark by this time and I put on my headlamp and began to search for blood. I could see no blood where the hog had stood when I shot, but the ground was torn up where he had jetted away into the brush. I headed toward an opening that looked good for an escape, and quickly saw the spray of bright, fresh blood on the side of a prickly pear cactus. I pulled out a roll of surveyor's marking tape and began marking the spots where I found blood. After establishing a direction of travel, I decided to hike back to the truck and change out of the leafy wear camo suit I was wearing, and drop the back pack off. It was a short hike to the truck, and I was back in short order.
I picked up the trail again, following it through the tight quarters of the brush, rocks, and mesquite. There was good blood sign and it wasn't difficult to follow, but I was keeping a close watch for Rattlesnakes since my friend had warned me about their den located up on this ridgetop somewhere. Thankfully, I did not see any snakes but did see the dark shape of a black hog stretched out on the ground in a small clearing about 15 yards ahead. I had found my hog, and it looked like it had given up the ghost. I approached cautiously, ready to send another slug into it if necessary, but there was no movement as I approached. I saw its eyes were open with the blank look of lifelessness, and it wasn't breathing. The .45Colt had done its job well. The hog's mad dash to escape had covered only about 75 yards before it fell.
The weather was too warm for me to feel comfortable keeping the hog for meat, although it was about right for that. It appeared to be about 180 to 200 pounds in weight and in good physical condition. It had small tusks just starting to poke out of its mouth. Not as big as the ones captured on game camera, but a good hog nevertheless. I put the Blackhawk onto the hog's body and took a photo or two before giving thanks to the Most High God for the opportunity to experience His creation in that way, and for granting me the successful hunt.
I made my way back to the truck and headed for home, looking forward to telling the story of the hunt when I got there.
This account got a little wordy, thanks to all who took the time to read this far. Here's the photo of the end of the track.
The evening of October 30th, I climbed into the bow blind at about 5pm and got settled in to wait for the sun to get low and the feeder to go off. The feeder went off at 6pm like it was supposed to but didn't throw much corn since it was about empty. There was enough corn to make some noise as it hit the spinner plate of the feeder, and I got ready to see what would come in.
The first arrival was a large bodied spike Whitetail buck. I had seen him before, and wasn't surprised to see him again. Previously he's been in the company of a very suspicious and nervy doe but was alone on this evening. He made a sweep through the area looking for the corn he'd heard run out of the feeder. He seemed disappointed with the slim pickings he found but did take time to grab what kernels he could find. He presented me with several good opportunities for shots with the Blackhawk, but it was not yet gun season for Whitetail and I didn't have permission for deer in any case. I'll have to ask my friend about taking a good cull buck out of the gene pool later on in the season.
After the spike buck left the vicinity, nothing much happened for about 15 minutes and then I heard a coyote bark a bit and then let out a short howl. It was still full daylight out but I suppose the 'yote was getting ready to hunt with the coming darkness. It sounded like it was only about 100 yards to the northeast of my position, and I wondered if I would see it before dark. My attention was focused on the direction of the coyotes short musical presentation, and I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye. The second visitor to the feeder was a good Hill Country 8 pointer. This Whitetail buck had also been seen with the nervy doe and the spike but was alone on this evening. I guess the bucks have broken up their bachelor groups with the rut coming on soon. The 8 pointer's headgear is not really wide, about even with the tips of his ears, but has really good mass with nice, long tines and good symmetry. He looked to be about 3 to 4 years old, just starting to have a little bow to his backbone and a slight belly. Not a mature, old buck but not a young'un, either. He'd make a good candidate for my friend's longbow. This buck didn't stay around very long, not comfortable with being in the open without scoring some corn for his trouble, I suppose. The howling of the coyote surely added to his unease. He reversed course and disappeared into the Cedars and brush.
Soon after the 8 pointer exited stage left, the sun dropped low enough into the horizon that the light began to change quickly. The coyote started yipping and howling again, soon joined by a whole passel of cohorts. There seemed to be at least 5 to 6 songdogs throwing their voices to the sky, and I felt my pulse quicken in primal response to the sound of predators nearby. I was certainly not the only hunter looking to succeed on this evening!
I reached into my pack hanging on a stub of a tree branch and grabbed my phone, hoping to capture the coyotes vocal handiwork. I was able to record some of their sounds and was returning the phone to the pack when I heard a new noise coming from the brush located on the southwest edge of the clearing in front of me. It was the sound of a larger animal moving through the brush, and it wasn't careful and dainty. It was the confident, careless movement of a creature who is not concerned about what lies ahead in the clearing it is entering. It had to be a hog!
In the quickly diminishing light I saw a dark shape emerge from the brush and began to search for kernels of corn. It worked it's way toward me and I raised the Blackhawk and waited for the hog to move past the last remaining tree branch between the two of us. As I watched the hog, I saw that it was all black and would make it difficult to see the black sights of my sixgun clearly in the failing light. I hoped I could get a clean shot, and then realized the grass nearby would make a good contrasting background for the sights. I got the sight picture I needed, and held just off the hogs body while I waited for it to get past the edge of the tree branch. The pig quartered towards me with his left shoulder, and I moved the revolver's sights onto the pig's shoulder. I held my breath and began to apply pressure to the trigger, in an instant the Blackhawk spoke and rolled in my hand under the recoil of the powder coated 300g wide flat point bullet. 22 grains of Hodgdon 110 sent the bullet into the hog's shoulder. He almost went down but regained his footing with a lunge back in the direction he'd come from. I had time to cock the hammer and fire a second shot at the hog as it sped off into the brush, but I'm pretty sure I missed on the second shot. I listened as the hog crashed through the brush, mesquite, and prickly pear cactus for a few seconds before piling up and thrashing about. After a short bit, all was quiet again. The coyotes had quit their music-making at the sound of the shot, and even the crickets waited before resuming their chirping.
I holstered the Blackhawk and tried to get my heart rate back down to a normal level, waiting about 20 minutes or so before gathering my gear and climbing down from the tree stand. It was fully dark by this time and I put on my headlamp and began to search for blood. I could see no blood where the hog had stood when I shot, but the ground was torn up where he had jetted away into the brush. I headed toward an opening that looked good for an escape, and quickly saw the spray of bright, fresh blood on the side of a prickly pear cactus. I pulled out a roll of surveyor's marking tape and began marking the spots where I found blood. After establishing a direction of travel, I decided to hike back to the truck and change out of the leafy wear camo suit I was wearing, and drop the back pack off. It was a short hike to the truck, and I was back in short order.
I picked up the trail again, following it through the tight quarters of the brush, rocks, and mesquite. There was good blood sign and it wasn't difficult to follow, but I was keeping a close watch for Rattlesnakes since my friend had warned me about their den located up on this ridgetop somewhere. Thankfully, I did not see any snakes but did see the dark shape of a black hog stretched out on the ground in a small clearing about 15 yards ahead. I had found my hog, and it looked like it had given up the ghost. I approached cautiously, ready to send another slug into it if necessary, but there was no movement as I approached. I saw its eyes were open with the blank look of lifelessness, and it wasn't breathing. The .45Colt had done its job well. The hog's mad dash to escape had covered only about 75 yards before it fell.
The weather was too warm for me to feel comfortable keeping the hog for meat, although it was about right for that. It appeared to be about 180 to 200 pounds in weight and in good physical condition. It had small tusks just starting to poke out of its mouth. Not as big as the ones captured on game camera, but a good hog nevertheless. I put the Blackhawk onto the hog's body and took a photo or two before giving thanks to the Most High God for the opportunity to experience His creation in that way, and for granting me the successful hunt.
I made my way back to the truck and headed for home, looking forward to telling the story of the hunt when I got there.
This account got a little wordy, thanks to all who took the time to read this far. Here's the photo of the end of the track.
