Yep, this was my first time in the swamp with Russian Boar. I had heard all sorts of stories about how aggressive the boar would be and I have to admit I was more than a little concerned. What I found was that the animal is like any other 'aggressive'. They would rather leave you be and stay away. This led to one hell of a challenge.
Ok, from the beginning.
We brought the whole team to a ranch in Southern Michigan. Our host Doug Miller and his crew briefed us on what lay ahead. The thing they spent the most passion on was the impenetrable swamp where many of the boars chose to stay. No offense to anyone there, but they haven't been in a swamp. Being from Central NY, and having hunt in some of the nastiest swamps around, their wetland wasn't bad at all. What it was however, was a great place to get dirty and up close & personal with some excellent boar.
We headed out in small groups of 3. Most of the groups headed up into the higher & drier hardwoods. My group, consisting of my brother & father, headed right for the wetlands. We figured that we would find the big ones staking out their cool spot to spend the day in. It was uncommonly warm for March in Michigan. We were not disappointed.
Being that my father had the seniority, my brother & I wanted to get him the first shot at a boar. I attempted to work my way around the swamp to get a close look at what I saw moving in the cattails. About half way I came across a clan of boar still bedded down. Only one spotter was up and active while the others will still warming under the morning sun. With a lot of patience and some very slow moving I was able to get within 10 yards, downwind, from the group. I made out quite a few large, if not trophy, boar. While I had promised myself to make a day of it and not take one of the first trophies I saw, I have to admit I seriously considered it. Of course, I never had to make the choice. As I stood admiring the group and contemplating my next move, I started to sink! I went down pretty quickly.
Not giving up, I tried to free my legs that were now up to my thighs in muck without really spooking the group. After 5 minutes fighting a losing battle of subtle wiggling I gave up and used considerable commotion to free my legs. The boars spooked, of course. To make matters worse I was still on the side of my dad and succeeded in sending the boars the wrong direction. Oh well, let him get his own damn boar... I was wet & stinky!
What I couldn't know was that during my stalk another group of boar moving around the swamp's edge had presented themselves to my brother and father. Apparently one of the pack, the leader, was a sizable boar and an excellent pick for a first hog. I turned in time to see my father at full draw back across the swamp. I couldn't see his target but definitely heard the impact. His arrow hit hard and accurate. I came running back across the swamp hitting every grass stump I could find to keep my footing. Half way there I stepped, yes stepped, on a big female who was all but under water. She screamed and bolted nearly knocking me down in the process. It sounded like I had just stepped on some type of dinosaur. It was a scream that I still recall vividly & probably will for some time.
After a few skips of the heartbeat I got over to where my father had shot. His shot spun the boar around with sheer force. It ran 30 yards and stopped to regain its balance. My father was already drawn again waiting for a opening. The second shot hit so hard it knocked the boar clean off its feet where it stayed. He was shooting an Oneida Eagle bow, which are known for their speed and impact. It was a great harvest for him. The old man had his pig!
After much story-telling (it's amazing how the stories flow even if you had been there to see it), we processed his trophy and stored his gear. Now it was time for him to accompany us and be an extra pair of eyes.
We spent the better part of the day in and out of the swamp. We were convinced that this was the place we would find our trophy. Actually we found out that it was the place our trophies would keep eluding us. I learned a painful lesson that day. Pigs are better in the mud then people. Go figure, huh!
As it turned out, my brother and I would do exactly what we set out to do... spend the better portion of the day 'hunting' and only then would we 'kill' our animals. I know that my brother Mike feels as I do, that we take the most enjoyment being in the woods and 'hunting' the game. Nothing to me is more hollow then a quick hunt and a quick kill.
Finally, after stalk after stalk, I was presented with a shot I couldn't pass up. At 15 yards a nice male, leading a pack of 5 or 6, gave me a broadside shot I couldn't resist. My first shot hit clean but just slightly high. I hadn't expected the shot to be so close. My practice had mostly been at 30+ yards. The boar ran and turned at about 70 yards away. I wasn't far behind it. Something I discovered from watching others during the day was that, unlike deer, there was a good chance of a second shot if you immediately followed the boar instead of sitting and waiting. Sure enough, my second shot went clean through both lungs at 30 yards. Much to my disbelieve the boar still ran another 100 yards or so trying to get back to the swamp. He then expired just shy of the swamp. What powerful animals these boars are!
Not long after mine, my brother found, stalked and took his boar. His shot too led to relatively longer blood trailing. We were both amazed at the sheer will that these animals can operate on. I certainly have much more respect for the boar and the skills it takes to get a clean target. They are a smaller and more compact kill zone than deer and are heavily muscled on the back and shoulders. This makes a tree stand difficult if not impossible for a one-shot kill. I like that. Forcing us to be at ground level, and sometimes at mud level, helped to add a real equalizer in the 'hunt' for the trophy.
I simply can't wait till next year! ;-)
Alex