Why wait till next fall?
Why Wait for Next Fall?
When you can bring home the bacon now!
By: Mike Handley
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Just as the Georgia sky was beginning to glow pink that Wednesday morning in mid-March, a gobbler no farther than 75 yards from my hideout began heralding the gorgeous sunrise. Sadly, however, I was not hunting turkeys. I was sitting in a platform stand with my .30-06, hoping for a shot at a wild hog.
While my ears were trained on the roosted gobbler that was sounding off continuously, my eyes were glued to a young boar working off some testosterone. Between fruitless attempts to slide atop a sow, mother of three Chihuahua-sized piglets, the porcine teenager was nipping the tails of a couple of aloof buddies.
In all, there were nine undersized porkers practically under my feet.
Although I was convinced that a mature hog would surely appear any minute, I could not shake the longing to be nestled up against one of those pines with my shotgun across my knee, coaxing that gobbler -- the closest of three -- within range. So strong was the stirring in my gut that I began yelping softly, using my own mouth and vocal cords. The hogs were oblivious!
A half-hour later, four jakes loped onto the scene, scattering the pigs. The longbeard was coming as well. When the gobbler stepped into the clearing formerly occupied by the troupe of hogs and then by his gangly protocols, he ran off two of the jakes before periscoping and looking for the hoarse hen I'd played. I let him walk off, and then I called him back to me. He left again, and I pulled him in a third time. Finally satisfied, I let him stroll out of my life so that my search for a toothy boar could resume.
