Home Forums Hunting & Shooting General Big Game 2015 Pig Hunt-With Pictures

Three-Legs was no longer a trophy when I saw him in 2014. This was maybe 6 months after Blondie showed up (and only hours before Blondie died) Three-Legs hobbled around like a three legged dog. When I saw him, he was the size of a Labrador retriever—SKINNY. The landowner had watched him grow to be a nice boar, and then shrink away.
One year later—and without Blondie to kick his butt--Three-Legs had grown back to Boar size, but still limped and was missing an ear. We drove right up to him and he “popped” his teeth to warn us. He showed a nice set of tusks. I was ready to smack this pig, but the guide mentioned that he was gonna be a tough “sausage pig”. So I passed— I was looking for meat. Three-Legs hobbled away.
We were up by 5 on Saturday, had some coffee and were in the four-wheeler by 5:30. We headed North (into the wind) and began glassing. By 6 we had spotted some pigs near a stock pond. We drove closer for a better look. The pigs were close together, but there were some large ones in the herd. We dropped down off the hill, parked the rig and approached on foot. Most of the pigs had disappeared, but a lone boar looked promising. We stalked in to about 80 yards. I was trying to set up a shot, when over a dozen sows and piglets, “appeared” out of a hollow filled with tall grass a mere 20 yards from us. They had smelled us. We never saw them.
These pigs moved East, the Boar moved West. Not good. The boar stopped at 100 yards with a T-Post between him and us, right in front of his vitals. I did not take the shot. The boar moved along the East side of the pond. We swung around the West side of the pond. Eventually, he went back to grazing and offered a nice shot. The guide ranged it at 140 yards. I too a knee and used a T-post as a rest. The boar was facing me, with his right should and chest exposed. I squeezed the trigger—BOOM! The 375 roared, the boar spun around and headed for the high grass. “Lung shot, I heard the hit” says the guide.
We crossed around the pond and looked for blood—none. We tracked the path the boar took into the grass. Nada. I chambered a round and went back and forth, through the tall grass, as if I was mowing the lawn—Nothing. The guide took his gun and Bob, they went through an adjacent field of hay. Zip.
We did this for 30 minutes, then went back to where the boar was standing to sort it out. Using a rangefinder, we got pretty close to where the pig was when I shot. Then the guide says “The barb wire was not broken when you shot”. Sure enough, the wire had a bright, shiny new break in it.


I shot from gap between the trees at the left:




The wire was at 125 yards, the pig at 140. The pig was smacked by some fragments –maybe. Just to be sure, the guide had Bob and I walk an adjacent creek bed to the end of the field while he made a loop around a separate pond that the boar ran toward. Zilch.