My brother-in-law, Charlie Theus, and I were still hunting on Honey Island that morning. Honey Island is located in the Back Swamp, mostly covered with scrub oaks and large palmettos.
The day was starting to get hot, so I decided to head back to the truck. I was slowly following a dim firebreak, shotgun on my shoulder, when something in a thicket caught my attention. I stood there for a few minutes, not really hearing anything, but not ready to leave either.
Now, every hunter knows a good hunting story is part truth and part art, but this story is the whole truth. There's no way I could make-up the following events.
I'm an Idiot
I was standing very still on that firebreak, staring intently into the thicket. I couldn't see or hear anything, but my instincts said something was in there. I immediately thought a deer had bedded down.
I probably stood there 10 minutes or more not moving a muscle. I finally decided to step into the thicket, maybe the deer would bust out and I'd get a fast shot. I moved into the thicket as quietly as I could until I was completely covered, thick brush was head-high all around me. Still nothing, no movement, no noise.
Then I decided to kneel down and try looking under the brush. I'm not sure what I was hoping to see, but I got on my hands and knees and strained to look for something. Nothing. That's when I did something really foolish, I put my shotgun on the ground and laid on top of it; I still couldn't see anything moving. Being tired and hot from the stalking, I closed my eyes for a moment.
I had probably drifted asleep for about two minutes, when I suddenly became wide awake. Something was standing there, staring straight at me, not more than five yards away in the middle of that thicket. My eyes took a few seconds to focus when I realized it was the biggest boar I'd ever seen. This hog was huge, with stained white tusks curling back over his snout.
My heart and mind were racing so fast I was having trouble thinking clearly. I know that boar was trying to figure me out, too. A cornered hog is dangerous. I had to make a move before he did.
Even a Poor Plan Vigorously Executed Will Work
I was using Daddy's old double-barrel shotgun that day, with 3-inch magnum 00 buckshot in each barrel, but I was still lying on top of the shotgun. I decided the best thing to do was roll over, fire one shot toward the hog, then get up on my knee and wait for the charge. I was going to put the second load directly into his face. I didn't have a plan after that.
I slowly slid the shotgun forward, gripping the forearm and trigger while taking the safety off at the same time. In one fast motion, I rolled onto my left side, pointed the gun toward the boar, and pulled the trigger. Moving faster than I thought possible, I was up on one knee, shotgun to my shoulder, waiting for what was to happen next.
For a few moments it was completely quiet, then I heard that familiar death kick. I reached for another shell to reload. My hand was shaking a bit. I took a few more breaths and slowly moved the brush away with the end of my shotgun. There laid the biggest boar hog in the woods. The whole load of buckshot had busted his heart wide open. Charlie and I spent the next two hours dragging and loading Godzilla into the back of the truck.
The incident with that big hog cured me from crawling into thickets again. I still like to get after hogs, but only when there's a little distance between us.
Mike Griffin, an old Ludowici boy from way back.
PS - All of my stories are true, mostly true or maybe just made up :)
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