When Feral Hogs ATTACK!!

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dennishoddy

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That's nothing! Last July I was out hunting hogs with a .45-70. I came across one rooting for corn, took aim, and shot him twice in the head. That just pissed him off. He turned to look at me and I saw his eyes--they were glowing red, red like the fires of Hell! The hog stamped his hoof twice, then charged straight at me.

I'd prepared for this moment all my life: I stood my ground, stared him down, and tactically soiled myself. With a cover scent to throw him off the trail, I dropped my rifle, let out a tremendous war-whoop (which sounded nothing like a little girl shrieking), and immediately established a position on the high ground, climbing the nearest tree.

The hog was smarter than I thought, though--he wasn't fooled for a minute by the scent. He walked over, picked up my rifle, reloaded it, and climbed the tree after me. I don't mind telling you I was terrified! Realizing it was him or me, I pulled my Spyderco Endura from my pocket, opened it, and stared Death straight in his glowing eyes. It was on!

While the pig fumbled with the sling on my rifle--my cunning plan to confuse him bore fruit here--I jumped at him, my razor-honed blade at the ready. The pig was too quick for me, though, and stepped aside just as I was about to connect. My arms grabbed thin air, my feet slipped off the branch, and I fell to the ground.

The hog fell for my cunning trap! Believing me to be distracted, he fired all five rounds in my rifle, only hitting me twice. While he recovered from the recoil of the powerful .45-70 Gov't round, I squinted into the sun, drew my arm back, and threw my beloved pocketknife. My aim was true--the blade entered his belly, slitting him clean up the middle, travelled up his neck, and split his skull from the inside, sticking in the top. His internal organs fell with a *splort* in a neat gutpile, then, a few seconds later, he hit the ground with a mighty *thump*, neatly field dressed.

I retrieved my knife from his head, cut out a piece of tenderloin, and savored the sweet, sweet taste of success.

Oh, and I even remembered to take a picture after it was all over: http://www.okshooters.com/forums/showthread.php?t=61204

That was funny!!!:D:D
 

bill allen

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That's nothing! Last July I was out hunting hogs with a .45-70. I came across one rooting for corn, took aim, and shot him twice in the head. That just pissed him off. He turned to look at me and I saw his eyes--they were glowing red, red like the fires of Hell! The hog stamped his hoof twice, then charged straight at me.

I'd prepared for this moment all my life: I stood my ground, stared him down, and tactically soiled myself. With a cover scent to throw him off the trail, I dropped my rifle, let out a tremendous war-whoop (which sounded nothing like a little girl shrieking), and immediately established a position on the high ground, climbing the nearest tree.

The hog was smarter than I thought, though--he wasn't fooled for a minute by the scent. He walked over, picked up my rifle, reloaded it, and climbed the tree after me. I don't mind telling you I was terrified! Realizing it was him or me, I pulled my Spyderco Endura from my pocket, opened it, and stared Death straight in his glowing eyes. It was on!

While the pig fumbled with the sling on my rifle--my cunning plan to confuse him bore fruit here--I jumped at him, my razor-honed blade at the ready. The pig was too quick for me, though, and stepped aside just as I was about to connect. My arms grabbed thin air, my feet slipped off the branch, and I fell to the ground.

The hog fell for my cunning trap! Believing me to be distracted, he fired all five rounds in my rifle, only hitting me twice. While he recovered from the recoil of the powerful .45-70 Gov't round, I squinted into the sun, drew my arm back, and threw my beloved pocketknife. My aim was true--the blade entered his belly, slitting him clean up the middle, travelled up his neck, and split his skull from the inside, sticking in the top. His internal organs fell with a *splort* in a neat gutpile, then, a few seconds later, he hit the ground with a mighty *thump*, neatly field dressed.

I retrieved my knife from his head, cut out a piece of tenderloin, and savored the sweet, sweet taste of success.

Oh, and I even remembered to take a picture after it was all over: http://www.okshooters.com/forums/showthread.php?t=61204


Great story!!!
 

lameduck

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Not an attack story, but it is still pretty cool.

I was driving to my tree stand the first morning of a 4 day hunting trip and I saw a hog in the middle of the dirt road so I got out and shot it in the headlights with my bow. (I hunt in Texas where that is legal.) I did not want to go stomping around in the dark looking for a dead/wounded hog so I drove off and headed to my tree stand. I returned after the morning hunt to look for the hog, and had no luck finding it. The last night, 3 days later, the hog that I had shot the first day walked up under the feeder and was eating corn like nothing ever happened to it. It was all swollen and bloody on its shoulders, and it still had the freaking arrow impelling it. I ended up shooting the hog again and killed it, and shot 3 others that it was with. The first arrow caught one lung, and it was filled with coagulated blood, I cannot believe how tough those things are sometimes.

On the other hand I have had some hogs drop with poor arrow placement, crazy how that stuff happens.
 

craigkindlesmith

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That's nothing! Last July I was out hunting hogs with a .45-70. I came across one rooting for corn, took aim, and shot him twice in the head. That just pissed him off. He turned to look at me and I saw his eyes--they were glowing red, red like the fires of Hell! The hog stamped his hoof twice, then charged straight at me.

I'd prepared for this moment all my life: I stood my ground, stared him down, and tactically soiled myself. With a cover scent to throw him off the trail, I dropped my rifle, let out a tremendous war-whoop (which sounded nothing like a little girl shrieking), and immediately established a position on the high ground, climbing the nearest tree.

The hog was smarter than I thought, though--he wasn't fooled for a minute by the scent. He walked over, picked up my rifle, reloaded it, and climbed the tree after me. I don't mind telling you I was terrified! Realizing it was him or me, I pulled my Spyderco Endura from my pocket, opened it, and stared Death straight in his glowing eyes. It was on!

While the pig fumbled with the sling on my rifle--my cunning plan to confuse him bore fruit here--I jumped at him, my razor-honed blade at the ready. The pig was too quick for me, though, and stepped aside just as I was about to connect. My arms grabbed thin air, my feet slipped off the branch, and I fell to the ground.

The hog fell for my cunning trap! Believing me to be distracted, he fired all five rounds in my rifle, only hitting me twice. While he recovered from the recoil of the powerful .45-70 Gov't round, I squinted into the sun, drew my arm back, and threw my beloved pocketknife. My aim was true--the blade entered his belly, slitting him clean up the middle, travelled up his neck, and split his skull from the inside, sticking in the top. His internal organs fell with a *splort* in a neat gutpile, then, a few seconds later, he hit the ground with a mighty *thump*, neatly field dressed.

I retrieved my knife from his head, cut out a piece of tenderloin, and savored the sweet, sweet taste of success.

Oh, and I even remembered to take a picture after it was all over: http://www.okshooters.com/forums/showthread.php?t=61204

That is the most outrageous story I've ever heard. I can't believe you expect anyone to believe that. NO self respecting hunter would EVER cary a Spyderco. :nono1:
 

DSP3006

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That's nothing! Last July I was out hunting hogs with a .45-70. I came across one rooting for corn, took aim, and shot him twice in the head. That just pissed him off. He turned to look at me and I saw his eyes--they were glowing red, red like the fires of Hell! The hog stamped his hoof twice, then charged straight at me.

I'd prepared for this moment all my life: I stood my ground, stared him down, and tactically soiled myself. With a cover scent to throw him off the trail, I dropped my rifle, let out a tremendous war-whoop (which sounded nothing like a little girl shrieking), and immediately established a position on the high ground, climbing the nearest tree.

The hog was smarter than I thought, though--he wasn't fooled for a minute by the scent. He walked over, picked up my rifle, reloaded it, and climbed the tree after me. I don't mind telling you I was terrified! Realizing it was him or me, I pulled my Spyderco Endura from my pocket, opened it, and stared Death straight in his glowing eyes. It was on!

While the pig fumbled with the sling on my rifle--my cunning plan to confuse him bore fruit here--I jumped at him, my razor-honed blade at the ready. The pig was too quick for me, though, and stepped aside just as I was about to connect. My arms grabbed thin air, my feet slipped off the branch, and I fell to the ground.

The hog fell for my cunning trap! Believing me to be distracted, he fired all five rounds in my rifle, only hitting me twice. While he recovered from the recoil of the powerful .45-70 Gov't round, I squinted into the sun, drew my arm back, and threw my beloved pocketknife. My aim was true--the blade entered his belly, slitting him clean up the middle, travelled up his neck, and split his skull from the inside, sticking in the top. His internal organs fell with a *splort* in a neat gutpile, then, a few seconds later, he hit the ground with a mighty *thump*, neatly field dressed.

I retrieved my knife from his head, cut out a piece of tenderloin, and savored the sweet, sweet taste of success.

Oh, and I even remembered to take a picture after it was all over: http://www.okshooters.com/forums/showthread.php?t=61204




YOu guys have way to much time on your hands or have an imagination that would make a ten year old boy proud.
 

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