Between Labor Day weekend vacation and spending a lot of time in the tree stand trying to get deer darted, there hasn’t been much time for me to get to a computer.
Kara and I spent the weekend in Savannah, GA, with her parents and sister’s family. I have to say, Savannah might have some of the best food “Low Country” food I have ever eaten. Shrimp and grits from Huey’s were unbelievable and the beignets were equally delicious. Overall, it was a great time with family and having some great college football match-ups to watch didn’t hurt things either.
During the week before Labor Day, my buddy and I made a repeat trip to our public land hog hotspot. We made a few hikes before we ran into hogs, but eventually we could hear some splashing coming from a beaver pond in the middle of a pine stand. As we approached, I could see 5 hogs of all different colors. 4 were in the 60-80 pound range and 1 was a little shoat about 30 pounds.
I was toting my z28 and Pete was carrying lever action .45 rifle. As we slipped around the edge of the water towards the feeding pigs, the smallest bailed off into the water and waded across to our side of the pond about 40 yards up. If they all followed, I told Pete he needed to be ready to shoot one in the water because as thick as the cover was on our side I didn’t think we would be able to stalk in for a bow shot.
As we were planning our next move, the hogs decided for us. One of the remaining 4 pigs broke off from the main group and fed down the opposite shoreline towards us. His path would bring him within 25 yards. At the same time, the pig that was now on our side of the pond headed our direction.
I couldn’t actually see the hog’s body, but the rustling weeds were a dead giveaway to the pig’s location. Pete whispered to draw my bow and next thing I knew, the hog popped into view within 5 yards. I was looking around the peep sight to get perspective of the situation, but as I moved my bow around to shoot the oncoming pig, Pete engaged the hammer on his cowboy gun and the “click” betrayed us sending the pig scampering into the underbrush.
Here’s a picture we took afterwards of just how close the pig got to us.
Fortunately, the other pigs were oblivious. I let down my bow and spun to face the opposite shoreline. As I drew my bow again, the hog was passing behind the clump of grass in the center of the photograph below. I stopped the pig with some noise and settled my pin low over the hog’s shoulder.
At the shot, my arrow buried up to the fletchings and Pete took a fleeting shot at the pigs racing through the dense underbrush. My pig ran about 35 yards before flopping “dead” into a jungle of grapevines and palmettos.
Now, I enter my caveat to the story – I was shooting the last Rage broadhead in my possession. No matter how crappy I think they are you can’t just throw away a $13 broadhead, right!
Wrong, should have thrown that piece away. I just don’t understand how the Rage broadhead has gotten so popular. Soapbox aside – we trailed crossed the water and followed a great blood trail to where my pig should have been laying. But he wasn’t there. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen. This just didn’t make sense. Both Pete and I had seen the pig tear off with an arrow sticking out his vitals and flop on his side before disappearing into the weeds.
Long story short, we trailed the pig for almost 250 yards through some of the thickest briar thickets I’ve ever seen until the blood just petered out. About 50 yards into the blood trail, we found my arrow snapped in two with some pretty serious damage to one of the blades. But we never found the pig.
As best we could tell, my arrow took a deflection as it entered the hog and even though the fletchings were showing right where the hog’s vitals were located, the arrow must have taken a nose dive once it entered the hog and only caught muscle meat, maybe one lung? before exiting the off side.
Like I said before, it was my own fault for trying to use up my last Rage broadhead, but I should have known better. Yes, the same thing could have happened using any broadhead but after my previous experiences with the Rage, I should have just cut my losses and shot the Slick Trick broadheads that I grew attached to during the second half of last season. It was quite a long, hot day but we had a great time chasing wild hogs. The sun set on a good day and the existence of Rage broadheads in my life.
I typed up that story pretty fast so I hope it makes sense. We’ll be back after the hogs in early October and I still have to fulfill one of my 2010 hunting goals of a spot-and-stalk archery hog.
