I have to admit I wasn’t looking forward to the quarter mile stalk down the pivot to the hog community at the other end. It was pretty cold and very windy, but there was no other way, and no way around the cows either. When they spooked the hogs took off. The big one ran out of site quickly, but the little ones weren’t in as big a hurry.
I double timed it back to the truck and raced to the north end hoping for a shot at anything. Surprisingly, the big hog was standing there larger than life. I had to decide quickly if I should stalk up on foot or cut him off in the truck. We looked at each other and both floored it at the same time. He was fast, but no match for the chevy. When I poured the conoco to her, 225 ponies reared up from under the hood and the race was on (ok, maybe 175 nags).
There was no time to swing the truck into shooting position. I slammed on the brakes, hung out the window and took a shot… miss! I had one more chance before the hog ran past me and through the fence to safety. Now I was hanging out so far the rifle was sideways. A little less lead and – BAM… the toad was knocked off his feet.
When I was satisfied he was done, I checked around to see if any wemmin and chirren were hanging around. Yea, I’m that guy. No such luck but no matter, the hoss was worth all the trouble. Turns out the first shot hit him after all, nicked him across the snout!