Twenty three years as a bowhunter and five as a traditional archer have reinforced to me that bowhunting is as much about spirit as it is about equipment and as much about life as it is about the reality of death. It’s about the people and places and experiences that become a collection of stories that make up our history, reinforce our identity, and establish how we will pursue our future as well as recollect our past. It is a tradition that must be passed on.

My step-father, Jim is a fit 79 year old, who has hunted whitetailed deer most of his life. However, his hunting trips have always been limited to local farms, places where deer numbers were consistent and tagging a buck with his 30.06 rifle was almost routine. Still, in recent years since Jim and my mother sold their farm, he has hunted little and thus, I was interested in getting him back into the woods and perhaps trying his hunting hand at something different: a guided hunt for wild hogs in the mountains of East Tennessee.

August 11^th found Jim and I on our way to Caryonah Hunting Lodge near Crossville, Tennessee. Jim had packed his trusty 30.06 Remington semi-automatic rifle while I had selected my 58" Morrison Cougar Longbow. This proved to be a hunting trip of firsts for both of us as this would be Jim’s first guided hunt and first hog hunt. For me, a die-hard recurve fan, it would be my first hunt with a longbow and my first trip to the famed Caryonah Lodge. I could hardly wait!

The three and a half hour drive to Caryonah went quickly and upon our arrival we promptly unpacked our gear, checked our respective weapons, and began to prepare for the next day’s hunt. A short night, a huge country breakfast later, and Doug, our guide, shuttled us out to one of the lodge vehicles to begin to make our way into the hunting area.

Jim and I were taken to separate areas to begin our morning hunt by doing some spot and stalk hunting. This would prove to be a supreme challenge given the intense Summer heat and dense Tennessee underbrush. I was fortunate to see three very good hogs during the early morning period, however, I was never able to get into position for a shot before the swirling mountain breeze gave my location away and they bolted into the safety of the thick cover. As it turned out, Jim was having the same kind of luck, so when Doug picked us up to return to the lodge for lunch, he suggested that we change tactics for the afternoon’s hunt.

After a hearty home cooked lunch of chicken tenders, farm fresh vegetables, corn bread, and glasses of iced tea, we were ready to head back to the woods. This time, however, Doug stopped at the dog kennel and loaded three anxious hounds into the back of the old GMC. Our quest for Tennessee wild hogs would continue with the aid of some of Caryonah’s well trained hog dogs; canines that live to strike the trial, chase, and bay the wild mountain pigs that call this rugged landscape home.

"Blue" a big female blue tick hound that more closely resembled a black and tan, was the first to strike a trail. With her loud bawl, the other two dogs joined the pursuit and it wasn’t long before the music of the howling hounds tumbled through the mountain air as the first hog was bayed in a blow-down. This pig however, was about a 90 pound boar and not what Jim and I were looking for so Doug quickly called the dogs off and we continued on our search for something a little bigger.

In less than an hour, the song of the hounds once again confirmed that a hog was bayed. This time, the hog appeared to be in a distant hollow and I quickly encouraged Jim to follow behind Doug to assess the size of this animal and give him the opportunity to take the first pig of the trip. I stayed on the ridge above the activity so as not to interfere with Jim’s chances and within only a few minutes I heard the resounding crack of his rifle as he brought his first wild hog, a fine 130 pound black boar to bag.

When I finally made it down to where Jim had shot his hog, his smile said it all. He was ecstatic, and to say that I was ecstatic for him would be an understatement! His enthusiasm confirmed that passing on the tradition of hunting should not just be focused on the young, but also to others as an often overlooked opportunity to bring joy to the more mature.

By now, the heat was beginning to tire the dogs and since we had an animal on the ground, we decided to get Jim’s boar in the cooler and call it quits for the evening. We were all ready for a shower and a night’s rest before returning to try to get a shot at one more hog the following day.

Doug and I headed for the woods at 8am with two hounds and one excited Mountain Cur named "Granny" in tow. A winding trip over the narrow dirt roads finally led us to an area choked with mountain laurel and blow downs. It was here that Doug decided to release the dogs and see if they could strike a fresh track. To our amazement, the chase was on within minutes and with Doug and I in pursuit of the barking, bawling pack of hounds, we attempted to close the distance to the dog’s position.

Travel through the thick woods, underbrush, and mountain laurel thickets was slow and every time we attempted to approach the position of the bayed hog it broke and ran into even denser cover. Still we could tell that the hog was a dandy; a big red boar that looked to easily weigh 200 pounds and definitely worth the extra effort to pursue, despite the difficulties of temperature and terrain.

Unfortunately, just as we thought we might get a shot at this mighty beast, he broke and ran for a third time, thus making it obvious that this was a hog that had eluded danger before and it would take more than three dogs to hold him at bay while we positioned for a shot. It was time for reinforcements, so Doug called another guide from the lodge and arranged for two extra hounds to be brought into the woods for the chase.

When the dogs arrived, a group of hogs was spotted crossing the road. Quickly, the collection of four hounds and "Granny", were released and began the chase. It was only minutes before the pack of dogs had caught up with one of the hogs and was holding him at bay in a creek that wound through the bottom of a hardwood hollow. Doug and I moved quickly down the steep bank toward the creek to see all five of the dogs working in harmony to keep the big black boar close to the undercut bank in the water as we moved into position from behind.

As I came up over the bank, I could see the hog’s chest as he lunged at the dogs. At a distance of only 6 yards, I drew my Cougar longbow, picked a spot, and released a Gold Tip carbon shaft with a razor sharp Grizzly broadhead at the target. The arrow hit perfectly as evidenced by the end of the arrow’s white nock just barely sticking out of the entry point on the hog. Although he never flinched or moved at the shot, within seconds he began to lose his balance, collapsing into the creek from the lethality of a double lung hit.

Wading into the shallow creek to examine this 200 pound beast, I was amazed at the team work I had witnessed from this enthusiastic pack of dogs. It was a reminder of the efficiency of a group of canine hunters and how they and their kind have survived over the millennia. Needless to say, this hog was as much a trophy for the dogs now wagging their tails at my feet as it was for me, the hunting archer that delivered the final blow to complete this primal pursuit.

After taking a few pictures, Doug and I managed to get the big boar into the GMC and headed toward the lodge, where he would be skinned and quartered for the drive back to Kentucky. As we pulled up, Jim was waiting to see what the results of the morning had been. I could see that he was pleased that the last three hours of chasing across the miles of mountainous terrain had resulted in such a fine specimen and as we hugged to celebrate the mutual success of our trip, he was already talking about making arrangements to return.

The spirit of the hunt in alive in every hunter, during every experience afield, and in every opportunity we make to share this tradition with others. Passing it on to each generation, young or old, experienced or novice, male or female is as much a responsibility as it is a gift and as much a blessing as is the blessing of the hunt itself. And when a tradition such as this is shared in beautiful mountain scenery, with the music of a pack of hounds undulating through the misty air in pursuit of noble quarry, passing it on has never been more wonderful.

Trip Notes:

Location: Caryonah Lodge PH: 931-277-3113

Camo: ASAT

Bow: Morrison Cougar Longbow

Optics: Nikon Monarch Binoculars