First off, I am a Yankee, Northern born and proud of it, so a pig is a pig. Not in the south. In their language, it is a Hog! That was lesson number one, when I decided to learn how to hunt these little armor plated warriors. You have all heard me talk about the differences that vary from North to South, especially the language. I mean it took me a little while to ask for a Coke not a pop, even if I didn’t want a Coke, but wanted a Sprite instead. So confusing for a simple Yankee girl like myself. Anyways, back to what I was saying. I had been in Texas less than a day and wasn’t even hunting pigs, I mean Hogs! I was on my first Texas Whitetail hunt and hogs were everywhere. It was right then and there that I decided that they where going to be my object for honing my shooting skills. Since that very first hog, I have taken many and all have been such a blast to hunt. The first one was with my bow, but I soon learned to take them with a rifle and then later I got thrown into the hog-dog experience. For each hog I take with my bow, I aim for the armpit area and I usually get good penetration and a quick, clean kill. Hunting them with a rifle is a whole other ballgame. I quickly learned that when gun hunting them, you do not aim for a heart shot. The walking sausage links are tougher that a brick. If you want to bring one down with a gun it takes one shot behind the ear and bingo.

Once I got thrown into hunting them with hounds, I was immediately hooked. I had a brief hesitation, only because I have a little phobia of knives and that is the main tool you use, after the dogs of course. When they finally explained to me what I was going to be doing on this hunt, I was already running to catch up with the dogs. It was a hair too late to tell a bunch of Texas cowboys that I cannot stick something with a knife, not even a pig. It happened so fast that I really don’t remember any fear. The dogs chased a hog, pinned him down and the cowboys I was hunting with handed me a knife and told me to pick up the hog’s back legs and stick him in the heart. Right where I aim with my bow. The knife was as big as my forearm. When it was all over I had such an adrenaline rush that I became hooked. I forgot all about my queasy knife phobia and realized that hunting hogs with dogs was by far my favorite. Texas is the best place to get a hog, but I have hunted them in Florida and Central America too. I just didn’t know that for every hog you kill in the Jungle the Mayan guides will charge you $200.00 American and eat the whole thing. If you ever get a chance to take a hog, you will find that it is addictive and one will never be enough. My new goal is to kill a hog that is color phased. All the hogs that I have hunted have all been black and very Russian looking. I would like to get one that is off colored, but I seem to never be in the right spot at the right time. The girls I hunt with have all gotten red, blue, and blonde, not me. Black is the one color I get. So next time, I will try for a different color.