FLORIDA HOG HUNT 2024-2025
- Thread starter Chancegriffis
- Start date
“… and this little piggy went wee wee wee all the way home”
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triple_duece
Ragin Cajun.
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Some selected pics, in somewhat chronological order
John was a first-timer at Buc-ees. He didn't like the crowds, but did like the brisket taco, and was a sport and posed with the beaver
Walking in on the first morning
Eagle
John was a first-timer at Buc-ees. He didn't like the crowds, but did like the brisket taco, and was a sport and posed with the beaver
Walking in on the first morning
Eagle
Piggy tracks, swamp grass, logging road
Don't get off the road or you'll be in the shit. And I found lots of old ladders in the swamp
Don't get off the road or you'll be in the shit. And I found lots of old ladders in the swamp
Synchronized piggies
Perfect job in the field by John.
Imagine his relief....
Found a grove of orange trees while afield...
Chance learned that a game cart is a game-changer
Look at the head on that!
My favorite picture - Joe gave us a little history class on the Live Oak.
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It's music to my ears. The smell of burnt powder in the air, the woods quiet except the sound of a squeeling pig.
Last edited:
- 39,169
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My favorite thing about pig hunting.
It flips the ultimate predator switch. Pigs can see but not like deer, they don't recognize the human shape, if your are not back-lit or moving fast they don't really see you. They can hear really well but don't freak out about noise like a stick breaking, leaves crunching, etc like deer do, but you still try not to do it. They make a fair bit of noise themselves and are usually in a small group or have piglets so noise isn't a huge deal. Their one major superpower is their nose, they can smell your butthole 100 yards away and can tell what you had for dinner two days ago. Just keep the wind in your face or across you, which is easier said than done in the swamps.
So a little after daybreak, you find yourself in the wet, eyes steadily watching ahead of you for the slightest movement. Ears pinned deciphering the symphony of sounds in the swamp, frogs croaking, pileated woodpeckers calling, egrets and herons squawking, squirrels jumping noisy palm fronds. You're listening for the slosh of water, the suction of a leg being pulled from the mud, the squeal of pigs bullying each other as they feed, and the grunts of rooting pigs. Trying to differentiate the subtle sounds of the woods through all the other noise. Picking the sounds apart and offen hearing further than you can actually see. Stalking the edge of the wet like a blue heron quietly slipping down the edge of the marsh cautiously placing each foot as you move forward. All the while paying attention to where you're going, picking a path through the swamp so you don't get in the deeper stuff or brushed in. a dead path. Eyes forward, the slightest breeze across your face, or worse the back of your neck. Eyes deciphering sign, the freshness of tracks, their direction of travel, what are they rooting for in here.
After many hours of slipping along picking your way through the swamp you hear the rustle of a palm frond up ahead, is it another squirrel like the 20 times before? They're in here somewhere, the sign tells you they are. You begin to pick a path in that direction to investigate the lead, moving slowly, eyes piercing the underbrush, trained for the slightest movement. You hear something again, a faint grunt, or was it just in your head, maybe it was a frog. You press on as slow as a sloth paying careful attention to every step in ankle-deep water, your foot sinks 3-4 inches in the soft mud under the water, you pull slowly to break the suction but not so much that it sloshes the water when it comes loose. You set your foot back down feeling a stick and slightly maneuvering past it to the bottom. Eyes still peeled ahead you catch a flash of black in the palmetto. Now you know they're in there, time to lock in. Mosquitos and biting gnats fly around, they've driven you mad for hours, and now you don't even feel their bite. 40 yards ahead, but you can't see them. If only you could kneel to see under, but it's all wet around you, 5 yards ahead there is a better vantage point, can you make it? You don't really have a choice, you pick a path and move with caution but with the conviction of a panther, weapon ready, it could happen quick, all the while knowing the wind could shift at any moment. All of your senses are at 1,000%, and if a stare could light a fire the swamp would burn. Briefly you see one as it works through the palmetto, focus, you shoulder your weapon and the safety comes off, looking through the scope you can see some black, but what part, now an ear, the pig is constantly moving, you see its neck and the shot cracks almost instinctively like you didn't even do it. The woods explode with noise and movement, the squeal of a pig, the group runs in every direction busting brush and you see flashes all around. Piglets scatter and you make the decision to either try to hit one with your long gun or transition to a sidearm. It's a shooting gallery. From calm to chaos in the crack of less than a second.
Do that every day for 5 days and your brain gets into a predator mode that's almost indescribable.
Other times you're just bumble fucking down a cleared logging road and one pokes its head out in the clear and catches a hot one.
Then sometimes, allegedly, you and a buddy are driving out of the swamp in the dark after a successful hunt. You're a mile from the blacktop on a muddy two-track swamp road, a wheel width left or right means being up to your axles in the shit. You round the corner and a boar is standing in the middle of the road. The long guns are cased in the back, but the 45 on your side isn't. The truck windows don't roll down so a door gets opened and a shot rings out, the boar runs straight down the road, the door slams and the truck pulls forward and stops with him in the headlights, the door opens and another shot cracks. It's a drive-by pigging! The boar runs again but sees the creek crossing and doubles back towards the truck. The wounded boar runs by the truck while you pump the trigger to no effect, the stupid safety was on, as he passes by your open door forcing you to pull your leg in and slightly close the door. The boar runs down the side of the truck and proceeds to throw his head and gore your rear quarter panel with his tusk before disappearing in the swamp. That's all fiction though, that never happens, as I said. Allegedly.
It flips the ultimate predator switch. Pigs can see but not like deer, they don't recognize the human shape, if your are not back-lit or moving fast they don't really see you. They can hear really well but don't freak out about noise like a stick breaking, leaves crunching, etc like deer do, but you still try not to do it. They make a fair bit of noise themselves and are usually in a small group or have piglets so noise isn't a huge deal. Their one major superpower is their nose, they can smell your butthole 100 yards away and can tell what you had for dinner two days ago. Just keep the wind in your face or across you, which is easier said than done in the swamps.
So a little after daybreak, you find yourself in the wet, eyes steadily watching ahead of you for the slightest movement. Ears pinned deciphering the symphony of sounds in the swamp, frogs croaking, pileated woodpeckers calling, egrets and herons squawking, squirrels jumping noisy palm fronds. You're listening for the slosh of water, the suction of a leg being pulled from the mud, the squeal of pigs bullying each other as they feed, and the grunts of rooting pigs. Trying to differentiate the subtle sounds of the woods through all the other noise. Picking the sounds apart and offen hearing further than you can actually see. Stalking the edge of the wet like a blue heron quietly slipping down the edge of the marsh cautiously placing each foot as you move forward. All the while paying attention to where you're going, picking a path through the swamp so you don't get in the deeper stuff or brushed in. a dead path. Eyes forward, the slightest breeze across your face, or worse the back of your neck. Eyes deciphering sign, the freshness of tracks, their direction of travel, what are they rooting for in here.
After many hours of slipping along picking your way through the swamp you hear the rustle of a palm frond up ahead, is it another squirrel like the 20 times before? They're in here somewhere, the sign tells you they are. You begin to pick a path in that direction to investigate the lead, moving slowly, eyes piercing the underbrush, trained for the slightest movement. You hear something again, a faint grunt, or was it just in your head, maybe it was a frog. You press on as slow as a sloth paying careful attention to every step in ankle-deep water, your foot sinks 3-4 inches in the soft mud under the water, you pull slowly to break the suction but not so much that it sloshes the water when it comes loose. You set your foot back down feeling a stick and slightly maneuvering past it to the bottom. Eyes still peeled ahead you catch a flash of black in the palmetto. Now you know they're in there, time to lock in. Mosquitos and biting gnats fly around, they've driven you mad for hours, and now you don't even feel their bite. 40 yards ahead, but you can't see them. If only you could kneel to see under, but it's all wet around you, 5 yards ahead there is a better vantage point, can you make it? You don't really have a choice, you pick a path and move with caution but with the conviction of a panther, weapon ready, it could happen quick, all the while knowing the wind could shift at any moment. All of your senses are at 1,000%, and if a stare could light a fire the swamp would burn. Briefly you see one as it works through the palmetto, focus, you shoulder your weapon and the safety comes off, looking through the scope you can see some black, but what part, now an ear, the pig is constantly moving, you see its neck and the shot cracks almost instinctively like you didn't even do it. The woods explode with noise and movement, the squeal of a pig, the group runs in every direction busting brush and you see flashes all around. Piglets scatter and you make the decision to either try to hit one with your long gun or transition to a sidearm. It's a shooting gallery. From calm to chaos in the crack of less than a second.
Do that every day for 5 days and your brain gets into a predator mode that's almost indescribable.
Other times you're just bumble fucking down a cleared logging road and one pokes its head out in the clear and catches a hot one.
Then sometimes, allegedly, you and a buddy are driving out of the swamp in the dark after a successful hunt. You're a mile from the blacktop on a muddy two-track swamp road, a wheel width left or right means being up to your axles in the shit. You round the corner and a boar is standing in the middle of the road. The long guns are cased in the back, but the 45 on your side isn't. The truck windows don't roll down so a door gets opened and a shot rings out, the boar runs straight down the road, the door slams and the truck pulls forward and stops with him in the headlights, the door opens and another shot cracks. It's a drive-by pigging! The boar runs again but sees the creek crossing and doubles back towards the truck. The wounded boar runs by the truck while you pump the trigger to no effect, the stupid safety was on, as he passes by your open door forcing you to pull your leg in and slightly close the door. The boar runs down the side of the truck and proceeds to throw his head and gore your rear quarter panel with his tusk before disappearing in the swamp. That's all fiction though, that never happens, as I said. Allegedly.