A Hog Named George

I’m one of those very lucky guys with a wife that not only supports my hunting habit, but also frequently joins me in the stand, marsh, or boat to take in the natural world. We have killed various species of waterfowl together, but until very recently had never managed to take any large game species. It was not for lack of trying, things just never seemed to line up right. I’m sure it pestered me more than it did her, but I believed it would be a very personal experience we could share together. 

This year we signed up for a hunting lease not far from home where we are able to camp over night, and even bring our three dogs for family camping trips. This has made for the best of both worlds for us, as well as our three pups. Hunting opportunities have improved and increased; therefor, we have been able to monitor cameras and pattern game better than previous years. This brings us to “George the Hog.” 

One evening my wife and I were running through about a month’s worth of photos from various cameras on the property, when we noticed a medium-sized boar regularly visiting the feeder around 7-8 PM each evening. I made an off comment about “George” grabbing up all the feed, and the name stuck. We decide to run out one Friday night after work and see just how punctual George would be. In typical Jacksonville fashion traffic is terrible and we have about a 30-minute delay, but luckily we arrive at camp with time and daylight to spare. We slowly and quietly make our way down the trail to begin setting up, and quickly realize the mosquitos are out in full force. Like most hunters I like to think I’m a pretty tough guy, but if anything drives me absolutely insane it’s mosquitos and gnats eating me alive when I am supposed to remain completely still. I’d like to take a moment to recognize how much tougher my wife is than me where mosquitos are concerned. She is much more of a trooper than I am when the biting bugs come out.

The Thermacell was tucked away in my backpack so no big deal, continue forward and crank that bad boy up when we get situated. It doesn’t take long to get to our spot, and we start clearing away small brush and setting down backpacks. I notice something in the grass about 10 yards ahead of us that looks like garbage and make a mental note to pick it up before leaving. The mosquitos must have spread news that the buffet was open for business, because it was hard to blink without feeling one on your face. Time to bust out the Thermacell and begin our wait for good old George. I open my pack but do not see the life saving tool at first glance, and after frantic digging and soul crushing disappointment come to the realization a trip back to the truck is imminent. I take a glance around before leaving and land on the strange looking piece of trash we noticed earlier. It can’t be…is that a Thermacell? I walk over to the mystery object and quickly realize it is indeed, we’re saved! I also notice a spent .308 case and suspect someone must have hunted this area earlier in the week, a suspicion confirmed after a quick text to a fellow lease member.

Unfortunately this lead to a double whammy of disappointment, not only was the Thermacell out of fuel but I also learned a member shot and missed a hog earlier this week in the same location. I was worried George would not return with his usual punctuality, but knew after the drive out we had to at least try.

I made my way back to the truck as quietly as possible, as we were quickly losing daylight and did not want to risk spooking game in the area. I managed to retrieve the working Thermacell without incident. Back at the hunting spot, my wife and I set up behind some tall grass with a fairly unobstructed view of the feeder and began our wait for George. I only have one pair of electronic hearing protection so I let my wife wear it while I settled for standard plugs. She looked like a kid at Christmas when she first put them on and could hear the ground crunching as we shifted around in our area. It was a great moment to see her so excited by such a simple piece of hunting gear.

Night fell and revealed a bright Waxing Gibbous moon directly behind us at about 60 degrees above the horizon. This worked well to keep our faces in the dark, while illuminating the woods ahead of us. Just after 7:15 I notice a black blob run across a small break in the brush about 40 yards from our location. Tapping my wife and slowly bringing the scope to my eye, I try to locate the blob’s source. Sure enough I can just make out the shape of a hog, but unfortunately cannot see my reticle on the animal’s body. Of course this is when I remember the reticle is illuminated and manage to manipulate the switch without much commotion. I am pulsing with excitement and notice a change in my breathing once the now lit reticle falls on the hog’s body. Later my wife would tell me she could not see anything but knew I did, as the electronic ear muffs amplified my breathing and she noted the drastic change.

Boom! I squeeze off a shot and the hog bolts to the right, then left, and sounds like he is stumbling the whole way. After the initial excitement we no longer hear anything coming from his direction. I begin to think I may have missed, and my wife mentions, “let’s go look for blood.” This is hunter 101, but the fact that my wife mentioned it before I did was a very proud moment. We make our way over but do not see any blood where the hog was last standing. Knowing hogs can sometimes take a while to bleed, we fire up our lamps and start looking in the general vicinity.

After a few discouraging minutes, I pick up on the boar’s scent and suggest to my wife we look around a little longer. Not a minute later we come across a bright red splotch of blood on the leaves. It is obviously from a vital hit and we press on, following the globs of red “breadcrumbs” splashed across the ground. After about 30 yards we come across the hog, and check for signs of life to be sure the job is done. We field dress him on the spot, with my wife holding the light and providing commentary about his “wonderful” smell. We drag him out together and make our way back to camp to skin and prep for the ride home.

The whole process took about 5 hours, but we will remember it for the rest of our lives. Seeing my wife thrive in an environment that I once considered my own was a spiritual experience. Now for the next challenge, convincing her to pull the trigger herself. That one might be a bit more difficult, but I have a good feeling she will come around eventually. If not, sharing time in the field with the ones you love is all that really matters.

 -Kevin Johansen, Fall Obsession Field Staff