It was the second day of our hunt and we had collected only one hog. It was late February and the cold front, ‘norther’ in Texan, hit just before sun up with the wind howling from the north and the temperature dropping like a rock. We had been dressed and eating breakfast when it hit so this required a quick addition of long johns to our apparel.
Out into the teeth of the storm we went and set up our ambush and waited for the hogs. Our wait was a short one and the hogs, probably 10 or more, exploded from the bait and scattered, headed toward the northwest, except for one that was headed our way.
Brad and I were about 5 yards apart and here came a hog, a 200 pounder, right at me and I was square in the middle of his path of escape. Brad couldn’t swing on it for fear of hitting me and all I could do was get ready. The hog charged closer and I put the sight on its nose, tracked down with its movement and the .223 cal., Boomed and the hog rolled right at my feet! The shot hit right above the hog’s eyes and thinking back, I would have gotten “rolled up” by him if I had missed!
After another chase, Brad collected a nice one out of the bunch and we called it a day. With the “norther” howling, we cleaned the 2 and then loaded all three on to the luggage rack of the Suburban, tied them down securely for the almost 300 mile drive to Houston, bid Rick a fond good bye and headed out.
We had a tail wind all the way home, but the cold followed us and turned into sleet and rain by the time we arrived at my northwest Houston home and found to our surprise that our hogs were frozen solid. Hopefully, we’d process them the next day.
I even had a water pipe freeze that night!