Hog Wild

I finally made it back out to the stand mid November.  Once again, Gimpy was a ghost and all the other “bigger” bucks had gone nocturnal.  This trip I was “hardcore,” I left work at 5:00 pm and headed southwest to Gurra Ranch.  I arrived at 10:45 pm and began offloading everything that needed to go down the mountain.  After hauling everything down, setting out bait, erecting the blind, pulling a couple of camera cards, I settled down inside the blind for a nap; it was now 0200.  I set my alarm for 0500, got up and after a brief nature call I was back in the chair.

At 0600 three big hogs ran out in front about 45 yards away, by the time I saw them they were out of sight and crossbow range when a fourth stopped on the trail and looked my way.  He decided to come on in and five others followed him.  All six of them were all over 150lbs each; the biggest around 225 was the one that decided to come in.  There they were all lined up like F-150s in compact car parking spots facing me.  I had the option of using my crossbow, a -06, or an FNAR in .308.  I have wanted to see how many hogs I could take with a semi-auto .308, but I really wanted to get a kill with my new crossbow.  I was torn.

The whole reason I “needed” a crossbow was to have a silent method of killing a hog or turkey when sitting on blind while deer hunting.  I kept adjusting my shooting stick for either one, even standing with the FN and sitting back down and picking the crossbow back up several times!  Not being able to decide and getting close to daylight, the crossbow won out.  I wanted the big boar in the middle but didn’t have a shot until one backed out of the parking space and came around to the right side but still quartering towards me.  After what seemed like an eternity and expecting the hogs to bolt at any second, this one finally turned broadside I took the sdafety off and and I let it fly.  I had an illuminated nock on the bolt, but I didn’t see it lit; what I saw was a spark near the under belly of the hog and feared that I shot too low.  After the shot, they all ran off in a confused manner and disappeared on the adjacent property; about 2 minutes later I heard the hog's last dying breaths. The sun came up and around 0930 I went in search of my bolt.  Located about six feet behind a small bush was the bolt, broad head and trocar tip smashed, nock in pieces and the rear of the bolt split about 2 inches, did I mention it was soaked in blood?