Boar Hunting Calibers: What Works, When? Pt II

© 2010 Albert A Rasch and
The Rasch Outdoor Chronicles
$g&m f9bd 45kd q!?5. trochronicles.blogspot.com

577 Nitro Express rolls off the tongue with fluidity and grace...

My preference is towards "The Big Bores", 40 caliber and above. With these large, relatively slow moving projectiles whose diameter is already the width of expanded thirty caliber bullets, I'm assured of penetration and good wound channels. Invariably, they will completely perforate the target, giving two points of egress. The low forties are characterized by a series of cartridges that have never been popular in the US. The only choices we have readily available are the 416 Remington and the 416 Rigby. Available in relatively expensive firearms, I don't think these are common hog guns by any stretch of the imagination. Would they work? Yes, yes they would, though I would throttle them back from the 2700-2900fps to the 2000 range for my own sake. And as you will see, I have plans for a 416 hog gun.

I'm going to jump right into the 458s, the darling caliber of the professional hog hunter. I'm going to skip the 444 Marlin because I've never seen one, nor do I know anyone who has experience with it. I have heard of some people having a bit of difficulty reloading it. But I am not aware as to the details.

The 45-70 has, as we all know, been subject to a 30 year renaissance, from black powder enthusiasts reloading at moderate pressures to Ruger #1 fans stuffing them with loads treading close on the heels of the 458WM. Marlin certainly did their part introducing lever guns in a multitude of models designed to wring out the best of the 45-70. Whether the close-in Guide Gun or the long barreled Cowboy, the 45-70 has really meshed in nicely with Marlin. I have a strong desire to obtain Marlin's 1895 Cowboy version with a tang mounted vernier peep sight for long range hog sniping. The reproduction Sharps are now available in 45-90 and 45-120 also for the black powder shooters. Things that most 45-70 users have in common, healthy doses of powder and big hunks of lead out front, are what make that cartridge so effective. Again, hard cast lead bullets with big wide meplats (the flat tip on the end where the point ought to be) rule the roost here.

I use the 458WM more than anything else. Loaded with factory 510gr SPs I haven't had any difficulty dispatching anything I could hit. But the cost of shooting factory ammo for it has really stopped me from using it as much lately. Therefore I ordered dies, powder and the assorted stuff one needs to reload. I'm shooting for about 1500fps with 440gr LBT designed bullets. I expect that at 50 yards this combination should be able to penetrate a 250 pounder end for end. I would also like to try Barnes Originals in 600gr RNSP just for fun. Call me a glutton for punishment.

There are a few 50s, the 50-70, 50-100 and 50-140 plus the British Black Powder and Nitro Express. The American fifties are available in several Sharps and Remington rolling block reproductions. (Wish List Alert: Marlin, make a 95 available in the 50-100 please!) Alas, I have not had the pleasure of using any of these. At some point in time I will have a Ruger #1 rebarreled to the 500NE 3 1/4, just so I can have a handful of Churchill cigar sized shells to drop in the chamber. All of the 50s have what it takes to put down big hogs in a hurry. Bullet diameter combined with mass creates a phenomenal knockdown capability.

As you can see, given a choice I will always pick bullet weight over velocity. Since I believe that the challenge in hunting is getting close, and my circumstances, (read palmetto), are such that closeness is required, I don't feel the need for speed. My most recent hog was a 225 lbs sow taken at about 30yards. The 776 grain forster slug pulverized the lungs disappearing into the next county after punching out a fist size exit on the far side. I think the velocity is somewhere in the 1100fps range at the muzzle of the 10 bore gun. (See the post titled "Got one! The rest of the story on the HuntAmerica Hog hunting Forum 1/15/02)

If you were to ask me, what I would consider to be the perfect wild boar hunting gun, I would have to answer as follows. It would be a double rifle chambered in 500NE, and would put four shots in six inches at 100yards, two from each barrel. Its balance would be like that of a fine shotgun and its finish, in deference to the places I hunt, would be as plain as possible, oiled wood and brushed steel. The sights would be a flip front sight with a square blade and a pop-up round white bead, and on the rear, an adjustable square notched sight. If I could I would try to have some kind of peep sight that could be put on and taken off, or flipped with ease, for more deliberate shots. My ammunition could have to be handloaded 550gr WFNGC hardcast bullets at 1700-1900fps at the muzzle, basically the equivalent of the old Sharps 50-140 or the 500 Black Powder Express. Of course the rifle would have been regulated for that. Cost about 10,000 bucks.

On a more practical side, I have been toying with the idea of converting that Colombian .308 FN Mauser that I have to 416 Taylor. The 416 Taylor is essentially a 458WM necked down to 416 caliber. The ballistics are comparable to that of the classic Rigby but in a case that fits in a standard action. Using a medium barrel by Douglas, with the bore deeply recessed and no muzzle brake, the barrel length would be 21 inches, maybe an inch and a half less, for portability and maneuverability. I would use the same sights I described for the dream double. I've heard much about the Ashley sights but never having seen or used them I can't comment on them, though the theory and comments I have heard are very positive. I wonder if I could have the receiver machined to accept Ruger scope rings. Ammo would be loaded with 350- 400gr WFNGC hardcast bullets also keeping the velocity within the lower limits of 1700-1900 fps. If I feel the need for more oomph I can always crank the speed up to almost 2200fps, and a multitude of good bullets are available from Barnes and Hornady. With the bolt I would expect the accuracy to be within a three inch circle at 100 yards. Keeping the weight light, under seven and a half pounds or less if possible, for those all day foot hunts, I would likewise add a good Pachmyr Decelerator pad just in case I did decide to use some hi-speed persuasion. I would probably fit it with a bayonet lug for those close quarter situations if I didn't think my friends would think me crazier than they already do. Cost about 500 bucks, if that.

It is my belief that for true trophy hog hunting where the quarry will top 275 pounds, a thirty caliber rifle would be the minimum. From personal experience I believe that the Swift A-Frames are the best hunting bullet available, but the Failsafes are more lenient in terms of allowing more marginal shots. The construction is such that even after punching through a pinepitch and mud encrusted hide, three inches of shield and a shoulder knuckle, it still has enough mass to drill a hole, albeit a small one in my opinion, through the lungs and end up through the liver on the far side. This again is from personal experience.

In connection with this article, I posed this question to the many members of the HuntAmerica BBS, a hunting and shooting forum on the World Wide Web.

Projectile mass or velocity; what determines your choice? I received many responses:

Coug2Wolfs, known to many on the HuntAmerica Forums, put it best when he said, "Albert, big bullets make big holes, big holes kill animals real fast, that's why I use 'em. The high steppers make big holes too, sometimes even bigger than the big bores, but often they will not exit, and that makes me worry. The blood spoor is mandatory if something goes wrong and you have to track 'em down on dry ground."

Coug2Wolf, I could not agree more. In deference to the hog's heavy fat and gristle layer, which normally seal any puncture wound less than 1/2 inch in diameter, two exit wounds, preferably as big as possible, really assist in game recovery.

StubbleJumper says, "I hunt mostly wide open fields and mountains so ranges can be long. Therefore I chose cartridges based on trajectory and energy which is most affected by velocity. Using the 7mm STW with 140 gr bullets and the 300 UltraMag with 180 gr bullets have taken whitetails, mule deer, elk, moose, black bear, bighorn and pronghorn with the 7mm STW at ranges from 20 yards to 434 yards have taken elk and moose with the 300 UltraMag at ranges from 90 yards to 370 yards. Both rifles are customs built on stainless 700 actions with match grade barrels and Macmillan stocks."

StubbleJumper, I am with you on everything but the black bear. Call me over-cautious, but for me, I would prefer a big slug with big penetration. Isn't it true that there are more fatal black bear attacks than grizzly? But I do know someone who took a smallish blackie in Vermont in the early eighties with a .223 and 55gr SP. Go figure.

Frank in Montana says: "If the ranges are short to moderate then I like heavy for caliber at a moderate velocity. But if I expect long ranges I go lighter to flatten the trajectory, but still stay away from the real light weight bullets." Good balanced approach I think.

Ray in Alaska: "About your question on "velocity or bullet weight," at least in my view...All depends on the type of game and cartridge used. I feel that for moose size game within 300 yards, any bullet from 210 grains up to 300 grains out of the .338 WM or the .375 H&H will provide a "dead right now moose."

GMSemel: "I think that Hunters today bounce around to much between bullet weights rather that pick one weight and learn its path well."

I think that the marketing departments at the major purveyors are doing what the so called "range jockeys" are demanding. And it’s those same range jockeys that can't hit a six inch circle at 100 yards off the bench and wouldn't even be able to hit a drum at the same distance offhand. Again I do have my own range so I do have an advantage, but I think it is a responsibility to the game we take, to be able to shoot properly.

Mike Murphy: "I'll probably take heat for this, but if we examine why many hunters like heavy bullets (myself included) it generally is because of the greater and more reliable penetration they offer. However, with many of today's premium bullets, the heavy weight is no longer needed to get that penetration. The Fail-Safe, Barnes X, Swift A-Frame, etc., do the job without the need for heavy for caliber slugs. The comments above (In the forum discussion.-Ed) regarding penetration seem to support the idea that penetration is what many are seeking and not the "shock" value of velocity. With the new premium bullets we can gain the advantage of better trajectory AND penetration, i.e. the best of both worlds. In the end, as we all know, what really matters is bullet placement whether it's a 100Gr. .243 or a 500Gr. 45/70."

StubbleJumper responded: "Mike Murphy- You make a good point about not requiring heavy bullet weights for penetration when using premium bullets. I have been of this opinion for quite some time but there are many people out there who are living in the past and have a hard time letting go of old beliefs, so they simply will not admit that this can be true. With the lighter weight premium bullets you can have speed and flat trajectory without sacrificing penetration."

Mike and StubbleJumper make the point that I am loath to admit to, but that I have ample and supporting evidence for. And that is that any reasonable cartridge loaded with quality components, is up to the task. Assuming responsible shooting and proper bullet placement, any game can be taken.

My avowed favoritism towards the big bores is based on several things. Physics; big things hit harder. Character; it takes practice and diligence to become a competent shooter with the big bores. Linguistics; 577 Nitro Express rolls off the tongue with fluidity and grace, whereas 280 Remington doesn't. And furthermore you swat animals with a big bores; when you use the others you just shoot them.

Where's that phonebook? I wonder if Holland and Holland is taking orders...

Don't forget that there is a Part I :Boar Hunting: Rifle Calibers Part I


Regards,
Albert A Rasch
Member: Bagram Tent Club
Member: Hunting Sportsmen of the United States HSUS (Let 'em sue me.)
The Hunt Continues...

Nebraska Hunting Company, Scott Croner

Boar Hunting Calibers: What Works, When? Pt I

© 2008, 2009, 2010 Albert A Rasch and
The Rasch Outdoor Chronicles
$g&m f9bd 45kd q!?5. trochronicles.blogspot.com
(This is a 2008 piece I wrote years before. My opinions on caliber selections haven’t changed that much, but there are a few things that I’ve softened on. Seven years and a couple more dozen hogs later I still haven’t had that Columbian Mauser converted, but its still in the works.)

Hog Guns:
Picking the right one for you.

Robert Ruark said "Use Enough Gun." Peter Capstick said, "Use enough gun, but not more than you can handle." To which I add, "Use enough gun, but not more than you can handle, and make sure you can shoot it."

When it comes to hogs, I'm going to say something that will land me in a heap of trouble with certain parties that I run with. You can take them with anything, so long as you do it right. That's correct, anything from the lowly 22 short to a 557NE. The catch is knowing where to put your shot. I suppose it's the same with all game. It all boils down to three things: Shot placement, shot placement, shot placement.

In terms of practicality though, there are upper limits on the size of a hog with relation to each caliber selection. There are basically six categories; the 22s-24s, the 24s-25s, the 26s-28s, the 30-338, the 35s- 375 and the over 40 crowd. Using commercially available ammunition as our standard, the 24s and 25s should be limited to small sub 70 lbs hogs. The 26s through 28s should be kept to the 150s and lower. The thirties and 338s are good for up to 300lbs and less while the 35s, 40s and bigger can handle just about anything. These are arbitrary numbers of course and I'm sure that arguments to the contrary can be sighted ad-nausea, but these are recommendations based on actual hog taken by myself and others, and for the sake of starting arguments.

All the preceding is assumes that you are using good quality bullets constructed to take the kind of abuse intended for big game. Hunting pig can be as easy as picking flowers, to a worse case scenario that might degenerate into hand to hand combat where the odds are definitely not in your favor. Spending a few dollars more for premium bullets is mighty cheap insurance. Just ask Cliff McClure of McClure Farms here in Parrish Florida. He has a twenty-three stitch memento from a Thanksgiving Day hunt that went awry.

It also depends on whether you are meat hunting, trophy hunting, or actually attempting to eradicate a population, as is necessary in some cases. Today, we have factory loads in almost every caliber loaded with premium bullets. I would seriously consider 22 caliber cartridges loaded with Trophy Bonded or maybe Barnes' X-Bullets under certain conditions and for the lighter weight pigs, but that is asking a lot from either of those bullets.

First, leave the Nosler Ballistic Tips at home. Though exceptionally effective for broadside shots at whitetails, at the close range that most hogs are shot at, they frequently disintegrate, blasting a large surface crater and frequently failing to penetrate much past the ribs. Likewise forget most if not all the hollow-pointed non-partition bullets, they just will not hold together on any moderately sized hog. The only exception might be if you are using a 24/6mm cartridge for juvenile pigs that you intend to use as small roasters. A friend who manages a large cattle spread locally, swears by a short action Savage in 223 Remington. It has a 4X12 Bushnell scope mounted on it and he uses it for predator control. He guides spring turkey hunts and is perpetually fighting a battle against raccoons, coyotes, and hog, which destroy turkey egg clutches and catch and eat the poults. Federal 55gr Nosler Ballistic Tips are his ammunition of choice. He is an exceptional shot in that he shoots almost daily and has an intuitive sense and practical knowledge of his quarry and the rifle he uses. When taking small hogs he waits for, or stalks to a position that offers a slight quartering away shot whereupon he slips that 55gr pill behind the shoulder into the heart/lung region. This just reinforces the contention that what counts is where you hit them, not how hard. As the heart/lung area of a hog is further forward than on most game, it is important to get behind the shoulder and range forward. If the opportunity presents itself he has, and I am a witness, shot them in the head. I am not a good enough shot to attempt this tricky maneuver in the field, but I have killed them with a Ruger 10/22 from a tree stand by shooting in the box between the eyes and ears. The range was very short, 12 yards or so and the pigs were still. Do I recommend this? No I do not… Unless you have a lot of practice and actual field experience.

Again, loaded with good bullets, the 24s and 25s will do yeoman's service on smaller hogs; I would not recommend them for anything larger than 100lbs, which is really a smallish pig. The mid twenties do not expand sufficiently and they do not have the mass for deep penetration. Shoulders can and do stop them. At close range they are going too fast and at longer ranges they lack in energy.

With 26s-28s we enter the classic European calibers, which range from the 6.5mm to 7mm range. Being a big fan of the Swedish 6.5X55 I will make an exception here and state that the Swedish round is adequate for any boar you might meet, with this one caveat; that you use the classic 160gr round nosed bullet at the sedate 2400fps. Weight retention and penetration are excellent with the ability to break the shoulder of any hog with relative ease. The 270Win, 7X57, 280Rem are all adequate mid sized hog hunting rounds. Coupled with Swift A-frames or Partition Golds they are efficient game getters. The 7mm magnums loaded with Winchester Failsafes get my nod for long range shooting at average sized hogs if you can get them to shoot accurately from you rifle.

The 30s-.338s are the compromise category. I think that the 308 Win is a good all-round cartridge in the hands of a deliberate hunter; that is the man who knows his rifle and knows what shot to take. The 30/06 is better, and the 300 Winchester Mag is, in my opinion, the best of the 30 calibers. But I also think that the 338 Win Mag might just be the ticket for large boars at longish range. Loaded with 230gr Failsafes or 225gr Swifts the 338 offers more weight retention and penetration than any of the thirties with a trajectory to match a 30/06. The problem is that most people do not put in the time at the range to become accomplished shooters with the seemingly heavy recoiling 338. As I have had my own range, I have no excuse and have become fairly recoil resistant.

The new series of UltraMags don't impress me much, whereas the short ones from Winchester, due to their far more efficient natures, do. I would like to try the new 300WSM with Failsafes or Swifts at an extended range from I really accurate rifle, and I'd really like to try a 338 and 375 WSM if that ever came about. Maybe someone will wildcat it if they haven't already! (Editors note: Been done and commercialized; at least in the 338 ie: 325 Winchester.)

Anyway, the largest hog I have taken with a rifle fell to a Weatherby 30/06 loaded with Remington's Safari Grade ammo. Remington loads the Safari Grade with 180 gr Swift A-Frames zipping along at 2700fps at the muzzle. At 75 yards the Swift drilled through 18 inches of hog, including 9 of spinal column. This close range coupled with the forward quartering angle and the fact that it ground through so much bone speaks very highly of the construction of the A-Frames. The hog went down but required a coup de grace to finish him. I would not hesitate to use that round again, for any boar, but I think there are better ways of getting there.

The 35s, rightly called medium bores, have the advantage of starting at 225gr and working their way up from there. The 358 Win and 35 Whelen are great examples. Bullet weights are 220gr and go up. Other than the 375 Winchester Big Bore and the 375 H&H, there's not much to choose from in that category. But if I was hunting those five and six hundred pound Russians in Argentina or New Hampshire I might consider a 375H&H in a Ruger 77. Launching a 300gr Swift, that should be enough to dissuade them from disemboweling me.
That covers the small and medium bores. The large bores are dissected in Boar Hunting: Rifle Calibers Part II

Regards,
Albert A Rasch
Member Bagram Tent Club
Member: Hunting Sportsmen of the United States HSUS (Let 'em sue me.)
The Hunt Continues...

Though he spends most of his time writing and keeping the world safe for democracy, Albert is actually a student of biologist. Really. But after a stint as a lab tech performing repetitious and mind-numbing processes that a trained capuchin monkey could do, he never returned to the field. Rather he became a bartender. As he once said, "Hell, I was feeding mice all sorts of concoctions. At the club I did the same thing; except I got paid a lot better, and the rats where bigger." He has followed the science of QDM for many years, and fancies himself an aficionado. If you have any questions, or just want to get more information reach him via TheRaschOutdoorChronicles(at)MSN(dot)com

Slammin' and Jammin': Hogs in the Long Grass

© 2009, 2010 Albert A Rasch™ and
The Rasch Outdoor Chronicles
$g&m f9bd 45kd q!?5.

Well my friends, this is the two hundreth post. Enjoy!


"I had the Weatherby stoked with my favorite hog load, the Safari Grade 30/06 ammo from Remington. I would later regret I didn't own a field grade Searcy in 500NE."

"Damn!" I muttered half under my breath.

The son-ofa-bitch damn near ran me over. Stupid freakin' cow.

The air was oppressively still. You would think, that living on a gigantic peninsula we would have a breeze all the time, but no. I couldn't see squat through the sawgrass, sweat was pouring down my forehead, burning my eyes; my do-rag couldn't keep up with it. I didn't dare take my finger off the trigger or my hand off the fore-end. I could hear it all well enough though, the grunts of the friggen hog, and the snorts of one bull, maybe two. I wished I had my Ruger Vaquero 45LC if not more.

I was burning all over; a million infinitesimal cuts from the sawgrass and the salt from my own sweat where working together to make me feel like I was being skinned. A hundred mosquitoes were having their fill of me at any give moment. Their constant high pitched buzzing was an infernal racket, driving me madder by the moment. I shouldn't move, and I couldn't stand still. There was a bay tree maybe two inches in diameter ten feet to my left. I figured I would head that way.

I carefully pulled one foot from the thin muck, slid it forward parting the grass another ten inches.

I knew that damned bull was somewhere in front of me, and the bull knew I was somewhere ahead of him. How he heard that foot move was something I didn't get to contemplate for long.

Now the question is, how did I get into this particular, yet not infrequent, bind this time?

Well, you see it's like this. I had been promising a friend that I would take him hog hunting for at least a millennium. But you know how things are, something always seems to get in the way. Finally we were able to agree on a day and planned our foray.

I had been feeding the hogs pretty regular, using well fermented and beer basted corn as bait, so I was pretty sure of success, or at least getting him in front of some wild pigs.

I wasn't wrong.

My technique is to figure out how they are getting to the feeding area, and ambush them. That way they don't associate the feeding area with a no hog zone. Some hunters say it doesn't matter, but I would rather be safe than sorry.

My buddy was supposedly a pretty good shot. At least that's what he said. He had an impressive number of whitetail racks at his home so I don't doubt that he can shoot, except he has never shot a wild pig.

He showed up with a Remington 700 sporting a nice 3X9 scope, in 270. Not my favorite cartridge though I have no beef with it. It was the Nosler Ballistic Tips attached to the cartridge that I didn't like. In his defense, he has hunted whitetail in New Jersey his whole life, and the Ballistic Tips were lightning in a cartridge as far as he was concerned. And on deer it is a very effective projectile.

Well I figured that we would limit ourselves to a mid sized hog, and I gave him a good lesson on shot placement.

We left the Hacienda about an hour before dawn, and walked down the rail road tracks a few hundred yards. There's a drainage creek that crosses under the tracks, and about fifty yards in the hogs had made themselves a little crossing area. We set up thirty yards from there where an open patch allowed for plenty of time to shoot. I had brought a couple of burlap bags to sit on and I had my Weatherby with my favorite hog load, the Safari Grade 30/06 ammo from Remington. I would later regret I didn't own a field grade Searcy in 500NE.

What else? A Searcy Double in 500NE
Click for a bigger picture

The sky was starting to lighten up with the sun moments from the horizon, when the pigs started to filter out of the swamps and march their merry way to the Haciendas feed troughs. I put my hand on Ernie's shoulder and pointed to one of the hogs that was now about a third of the way through the opening. I slight nod of the head, and he hunkered down, his finger drifting into the trigger guard.

I was as surprised as the hogs when the shot went off, but instead of a hog dropping on the spot, they were all scattering in every direction. I had my eyes glued to the hog I pointed out, and it went straight through the creek and I lost it as it turned in towards the tracks.

We were already on our feet and after a quick discussion we decided to start where the hog was standing when he pulled on it. Ernie was sure he had a good sight picture, and that the shot was in the breadbasket. I was noncommittal. I figured the Ballistic Tips had been deflected or had failed to penetrate.

We got to the spot the hog had stood at. Using the flashlight I brought with me even though the sun was rising, we found a small amount of blood, what I believed to be some bone fragments, and a bit of hair. The narrow beam of light really helps to focus your vision on a limited bit of real estate. Following the tracks, we found small quantities of blood at regular and steady intervals. They went over the tracks and into one of the neighboring ranches.

Now I have permission to trespass, but I hate to go in without asking permission first. Under the circumstances I forged ahead.

There was a good blood trail, though limited, so I thought we would catch up to this wild pig before too long.

I could see ahead of me that the pig had gone straight for an open swampy area chuck full of sawgrass. I hate that sawgrass, it nicks and scratches you with every touch. But duty called and I was going in after the pig.

What I didn't know, was that this particular patch of Florida swamp was also occupied by a rangey, rank, good for nothing bull.

Ernie was at my heels as we were creeping through the sawgrass. I was getting sliced and diced at every other step, following the blood smears and print holes in the muck, when I heard them.

What I said I can't repeat in mixed company. It's one thing for me to be in a bind risking my neck. It's quite another to put someone else in that position. I stopped and whispered to Ernie to start backing out the way we came. Slowly we made our way back out.

Another quick discussion, and I decided to post him by a palm tree at the other side of the sawgrass, with strict instructions not to shoot into the sawgrass. He could take any shot tangentially to the sawgrass but nothing in. I figured I might push the hog out and he might get a shot.

I went back to the starting point and slid in, keeping low, my finger on the trigger and thumb on the safety. By now the mosquitoes where waking up and joining in the fun.

I was about halfway through when I heard the bull again. The air was still, so it didn't know what was creeping through. But I bet the smell of blood had gotten to his nose, and he was on pins and needles. I was mid-step when he decided to charge the first time; I was not prepared for it. None-the-less I could tell he wasn't sure where I was at and he barreled by me a good six feet away. Unfortunately he didn't cut my trail, otherwise he might of just taken off. A few more feet further on he stopped and blew a huge snort through his nostrils, he must have bumped into the hog because it started squealing and grunting. I was determined not to shoot him because number one, I couldn't afford to pay for him, and number two, I didn't think I could get a proper shot off into him in this mess.

Some bulls do a little skip step when they charge. I learned that when I did a little amateur bull riding. They lift their weight off the front end to launch with the rear; it's a little hesitation, but it's enough to give you enough time to take off, or set up to do the "Matador," and move at the last moment. I've never been a quick sprinter, but I can dodge pretty good.

I heard him, and I waited to take the charge. As he smashed the sawgrass out of his way, I slapped my foot into the muck and braced myself. I needed him to come right at me, so I could dodge him.

I could see the grass parting as he barreled his way towards me. At the last possible moment I threw myself off to my right as 1100 pounds of steak and burgers went flying by me. A loud and thunderous rebel yell left my throat and followed his now obscured tail. Luckily for me he kept going his merry way.

Ernie's quavering voice came across the sawgrass.

"Al...? Al, are you alright?" He always calls me Al. I hate it when he calls me Al.

I was dripping muck and mud. I checked my Weatherby. "Yeah," I hollered back. "I'm fine. Anything come out?" "Just a brown and white cow with horns." He replied. "A bull," I corrected, "that was a bull." I picked up my do-rag from where it was hanging and wiped the mud off the Weatherby before jamming it on my head again.

I doubted that hog had stood still for that show. And I was right. There was a bit of blood where I had heard it last, but after that it just stopped.

Ernie and I kept at it for a few more hours, but at about midday, sore, tired, mosquito bit, and thirsty, I called a halt to the search. I had run out of steam, and I figured BLT sandwiches where waiting at home, calling my name.

Here is what I think may have happened. The bullet clipped the hog's leg and either disintegrated or deflected. That would explain the bone fragments and the limited blood. A solid or controlled expansion bullet like the Winchester Failsafe or Swift A-frame would have plowed straight through and anchored the pig. I was real sorry that we never recovered the hog, and I kept an eye on the skies for several days looking for signs of vultures, but never noticed any.


Best Regards,
Albert A Rasch™
Member: Kandahar Tent Club
Member: Hunting Sportsmen of the United States HSUS (Let 'em sue me.)
The Hunt Continues...

Though he spends most of his time writing and keeping the world safe for democracy, Albert was actually a student of biology. Really. But after a stint as a lab tech performing repetitious and mind-numbing processes that a trained capuchin monkey could do better, he never returned to the field. Rather he became a bartender. As he once said, "Hell, I was feeding mice all sorts of concoctions. At the club I did the same thing; except I got paid a lot better, and the rats where bigger." He has followed the science of QDM for many years, and fancies himself an aficionado. If you have any questions, or just want to get more information, reach him via TheRaschOutdoorChronicles(at)MSN(dot)com.


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Hog Hunting Rifles: Pt II

© 2009 Albert A Rasch

Well, Otto had time to mull his decision over. I wasn't in any hurry to leave, and Mike was working, if you can call it that.

"I've decided." He finally said.

Mike and I waited for the verdict. I figured he would go for the H&R in .308, or maybe even the 45/70.

"The Mossberg in 30/30!" Was his definitive answer.

Oops, my bad.

"Good choice!" Exclaimed Mike in his usual over exuberant way. Did I note a hint of self congratulatory smugness in his voice?

Glancing at Mike with some suspicion, I turned to Otto and asked, "That's a great choice! Now tell me, why did you pick the Mossberg?" I wanted to hear his logic for choosing it, I wanted to know if he was listening.

And why he didn't go for a .45 bore.

Otto ticked off three facts on his fingers. "One: It's a handy rifle for Florida habitat. Two: I can use the 30/30 on anything I might decide to hunt for. Three: It's affordable, and so is the ammo, so that means I can practice more."

"Good sound reasoning!" I said as a slapped him on his back; he was listening. "Mike, hand the man his rifle will you?" Mike was already reaching for it, but I thought a little motivating from me might make it happen quicker.

“So Otto, those are good reasons for picking the Mossberg leveraction, but now I want to know why you didn't decide to get the Weatherby, the H&R, or either of the Marlins."

"Well sir," he started, "I'm not sure I want to risk it all on one shot, so that pretty much ruled out the single shots for me. The price is right on the H&Rs but I'm not really liking them that much."

I can’t disagree with him too much one the aesthetics. I have a sixties vintage 10 gauge slug gun whose bluing rivals that of any other gun I have, and the stock is as pretty as any. She’s plain, but pretty.

"Now, I like the Weatherby, and if I had more money, I probably would have chosen it. But I really want to be able to practice so I'll need the money for the ammo. That and I'll need other stuff too."

"I really liked the Marlins, don't get me wrong, but I don't think I'm ready for the 45/70. What you said about respecting the game, I understand what you mean and I don’t want to be a bad shot and make a mistake while I’m out there. I don't reload my own ammo; so I can't make the 45 Colt ammunition. If I understood you correctly the stock factory ammo isn’t best for hunting hogs, and that Corbon is pretty expensive stuff. And the truth is, I like the way the Mossberg feels in my hand. That pretty much did it for me."

"That is pretty good reasoning." I responded. "Mike, what do you think? Has he got the smarts to outwit a big boar hog?"

"I think so." He replied and then added, "If he practices, stays honest to himself and the game, he'll do fine. You think you can do it kid?"

"Yes sir I sure can!" Came Otto's sincere reply.

"Alright, there's only one thing left for you to do, and that's to schedule some range time with Mike here." I turned to Mike, "Can you get Mr. Broward to help Otto out?" Mr Broward is an older gentleman who runs the range. He's real old school, and enjoys helping out younger folk getting started. He's half deaf so it's always a lot of fun when he's presiding over the range.

"I'll make sure he's here when Otto comes in." Mike’s as good as gold when it comes to getting someone started right.

"That'll be great." I added, "Otto, Mr Broward is an old cuss who will teach you more in an hour of range time, than most people can learn in a year of shooting, so mind your manners and pay attention."

"Yes sir I will."

Well I felt pretty good on this one. I’ve had them when they wouldn’t listen to reason, and get something completely ill suited for their skill level and the quarry they where after. Mike has to tread a thin line between pleasing the customer and advising.

If only more kids were as amenable as Otto was!

Albert A Rasch
The Hunt Continues...

Hog Hunting on Horseback

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"I reached into my pocket and pulled a chocolate brown, plastic cased, thumb thick shell and dropped it into the ten gauge's chamber..."

(A couple of notes from the author: The grove has been plowed down and is now part of a subdivision. Chester is still kicking up his heels and is occasionally ridden by the children. I stopped riding; I can’t sit on the saddle for very long anymore.)

I scrunched my stubbled cheek down on the wet wooden stock, trying to line up the sights behind the hog's shoulder. I was using my old Harrington and Richards top break 10 gauge slug gun. The beautifully colored walnut forearm was cool to the touch and the old fashioned ventilated recoil pad was tucked tight into the pocket of my shoulder. I could see patches of the sow's dark hide hidden behind the grape vines and scrub oaks that formed an almost impenetrable barrier between us. But there wasn't a clear shot, not yet. Hoping that an errant breeze wouldn't carry my scent to her, I stood as still as I could muster as there were seven sets of eyes I knew about and maybe a dozen more I didn't.

After a short eternity, the old sow moved forward, rooting for some delicacy, a fat grub perhaps, or a starchy tuber. It was the break I was looking for. The white bead floated just above and behind the elbow. I gently squeezed the trigger, and the powerful recoil took me by surprise. Taking a half step back, I lost sight of the sow, as the recoil shoved the gun against my shoulder and rolled the barrel skyward.

It had started about an hour earlier...

The fog that had enveloped the county at night in a damp and wet embrace, had been lifting and was patchy. I'd been riding for an hour or so, nice and easy, just enjoying the cool dampness, the ephemeral outlines of trees appearing and disappearing in the dawn's glow alongside the abandoned railroad tracks I rode along. Tossing his head occasionally, the gelding I was on had settled into an easy walk that ate up the ground with surprising speed. We had heard a lone coyote howling, but other than that it was peaceful and quiet.

He had been frisky this morning, kicking his heels up and otherwise being energetic; the cold spell brought down to us by the Arctic jet stream had awakened a bit of spunk in an otherwise placid creature. Used to the semi-tropical weather we enjoy most of the year, he was feeling his oats today. Saddling him up in the dim, foggy, dawn had been a bit of an adventure, it was early for him, and it took a few runs around the paddock to settle him down. Cantering back to the stables I tied him up to the hitching post and got the gear. I slipped the single shot H&R shotgun into the fleece lined scabbard, dropped three Federal 10 gauge slugs into my denim jacket's pocket and picked up the gun belt. Hammer resting on an empty chamber, I strapped my 45LC Vaquero to my leg. I always ride for a few minutes first before I load up and again after I've done so, just to make sure everything is strapped on right, the horse is OK, and I'm OK. No clicks, jingles, or rattles greeted me, just the creak of worn and well oiled leather. Adjusting my bandanna and pulling my hat down we took off.

We were moving along now, the clip-clop of his hooves beating a steady rhythm.

I was headed to were an old dirt road cut over the RR tracks and led into an abandoned orange grove. The tattered remains of an old Cracker style home sat on the edge of the grove, its back to a tangle of palmetto, oak and wild grape vines. It can't be seen from the entrance of the grove and every year the weeds grow a little taller and the remains of the house sink a little lower. I had seen hogs, big hogs, lots of hogs in this grove many times, and just as many times I hadn't. I was hoping that this would be one of the times that I would. The mist was pretty well gone by the time we got there and dawn was an hour gone. The first thing I noted was that there was quite a bit of fallen fruit on the ground this time of year. I was getting hopeful that I would run into a big sow for my Southern friends to cook up. I had found the hard way that old boars just don't taste that great, regardless of who's doing the cooking!

There's a big live oak that was likely there when Hernan DeSoto came by with his Conquistadors on his way to Eldorado and whose drooping, massive branches spread over a huge expanse of land in one corner of the grove. I was headed to that corner with Chester, intending to tie him off to one of the branches and scout the edge of the grove. But I thought I might glass the edges of the grove before I went in on the chance that there might be something there. My binoculars are set of Bushnell 7X49s that I acquired 20 some-odd years ago, when I was still dreaming of big game hunting while living in the urban cities of New Jersey. They might not be as bright as a pair Ziess lens but they are clear and relatively light.

After about ten minutes of careful scrutiny, I found nothing. The trees marched away in ragged rows, weeds having overtaken the rows between. The American Goldfinches were flitting from tree to tree, having come down to spend the winter with us, their chirps and trills sounding a merry welcome.. But beautiful as they were, there were no hogs. Cursing my luck, I went in, ambling towards the tree, going through my mind where we would go next. But Chester hadn't taken a dozen steps, when I heard them. Near the house, as good as I could tell, there was the unmistakable sound of contented pigs rooting around, their snorts and grunts soft yet clear.

An interesting thing, pigs might not see very well, but they have noses and ears that make up for it. If you're on horseback though, and the pigs have contact with cattle, they will not recognize you as a threat. Likewise if there are two of you hunting, and you stay close to each others, they'll ignore you. All those legs make them think you are a cow. But I didn't want to risk putting them off, so I reined away from the pigs, circling around the orange trees to the live oak. Luckily I didn't spook them.

Tying Chester off to the tree, I loosened his girth and pulled my H&R top break out of the scabbard. It was one of the first firearms I had bought when I turned eighteen. Navy Arms was just a big gun shop in Ridgefield, NJ at the time and I spent many a memorable afternoon just handling used rifles and shotguns, and the inevitable surplus third-world bolt actions that flooded the gun market in the late 70's. This one was on the used gun rack and it was love at first sight; the heavy barrel has a rich, deep bluing and wears a lovely walnut stock. It cost me $69.00 plus another seven bucks for a couple of boxes of buckshot.

Thumbing the action open, I reached into my pocket and pulled a chocolate brown, plastic cased, thumb thick shell and dropped it into the gaping hole that is a ten gauge chamber; 776 grains of lead kerplunked their way home. I gently closed the color case hardened action, wincing as it locked safe-like shut, afraid that the hogs might hear it. The other shell went between the fore and middle finger of my left hand ala' Peter Capstick. They might not be cape buffalo, but hogs can be dangerous and I wanted to be ready for a quick follow up shot if necessary. Of course I had my six-shooter on my hip, but for dramatic purposes... Well, I could imagine they were M'bogo.

The best way to sneak up on hogs is to move as quickly and quietly as possible while out of sight. Then when you are as close as you can get, get low, use cover, and move slowly. Their eyesight is poor, and if you are low, and an errant breeze doesn't carry your scent to them, you can almost get into their midst's.

Quickly I planned my stalk. I hoofed it back down a row of trees until I figured I was directly opposite the old house. Trying to peer through the lichen covered branches I slipped my way through the tree rows. Finally I could make out the outlines of the dilapidated house. Moving ever more cautiously, I crept forward until I was clear of the trees. The hogs had moved off just a bit from where I thought them to be. I could hear them, the muffled snuffs and grunts evidence that they were still busy rooting and eating. Ahead of me were 30 yards of wet, knee high weeds and then I could take cover behind the house's foundation. The air was still and the light still muted by the cloud cover and fog above.

The advantage of wet grass is that it is very quiet going through it. The disadvantage is that it is Nature's equivalent to a car wash. By the time I had crawled to the foundation I was sopping wet. Since I was pretty excited I didn't really care, more concerned with my stalk than the wet. I would regret it later.

Using the house as cover, I crawled my way to the corner of the water worn limestone foundation. Peering out from around the foundation's corner, I could just make out some movement behind the brush and brambles. Trying to count the number of hogs was almost impossible, the heavy cover concealed some and let them reappear, making it difficult, to say the least. But I could be sure of at least seven. I would have to get on my belly and crawl. Hooking my forefinger over the muzzle and behind the sight, and laying the slug-gun over my forearm and bicep, I got down on my belly and low crawled out from behind the foundation, using the tall grass as cover to reach my next objective, a wide bay laurel bush that was big enough to conceal me. Reaching it, I slowly raised myself up on my arms and peered around the bush. There, directly ahead of me, not 30 yards away was my quarry. From my vantage point I could see that it was a good sized sow without pigs. She had "Roast me!" written all over her. But between me and pork chops was an almost net-like web of vines and stunted trees. My only choice was to wait until she stepped into a clear spot so I could take her. I lowered myself down and tried to get my feet under me.

By the time I was able to get up on my feet I had decided to get my knees replaced with something a little less noisy. Say, a diesel powered lift! It was a wonder that any game animal in the county hadn't been run off by the unnatural pops and snaps that emanated from my joints. Peeking from behind the laurel I could see that they were still there, unconcerned and fortuitously unknowing. Focused on the sow as I was, I didn't notice a youngish pig come out from the screen of palmetto nearer to the house. When I finally did take heed, it was too late to do anything but stand stock still and hope that it didn't cross over my tracks. For once the fates were on my side and out of the corner of my eye I could see that the little pig turned and pranced back to wherever it came from.

That sow, meanwhile, was working herself off to the left of my position. The cover thinned out in that direction and I figured that would be my chance. All she needed to do was root forward five or six more feet and I would have her. I hefted the H&R up and pulled the trigger and as quietly as possible thumbed the hammer back, released the trigger and eased the hammer back down on the sear.

I still had the other shell in my left hand, double checking my grip on it, I slowly, ever so slowly, raised the ten bore up. My eyes were glued to the sow while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the others. She began to move steadily towards the hole in the brush so I finished tucking the gun into my shoulder and lined up the sights. Many years ago, I had replaced the front blade sight with a large white bead, which incidentally, I tell everyone is a warthog tusk bead, but which actually is a fake ivory one. I find it easy to pick up in dim or bright light, and I think it looks cool with its African Bawana look! A few more steps and I could take her. The bead was nestled in the rear sight's notch; both eyes open, my focus on the one spot on her hide where I would send the bullet.

When she took that fateful step, I squeezed the trigger, the hammer dropped, the gun roared, and all hell broke loose. Barking and snorting, pigs went flying in every direction, up, down, sideways; two sped by me with their afterburners on full. Not one for admiring my shots, I pulled the barrel back down and thumbed the lever over. The svelte action broke and the powerful ejectors promptly shot the hot casing right by my ear. As I slammed the reserve slug down the slugger's maw I looked to where the sow had been. Closing the action, thumb on the hammer, I could see she wasn't where I expected her to be, but I was confident I had hit her.

When one and three-quarter ounces of lead and 3000 pounds of energy hit you, by all rights you should be down, skinned and quartered. It didn't happen that way. Still looking past the shrub I was using, I could see that she just wasn't there. Cracking the H&R open again, carefully this time, as I didn't relish the thought of a fully loaded shell slamming me in the forehead, I pulled the round out and leaned the gun on the shrub. Though I wasn't expecting any trouble, I unlimbered my Vaquero and checked that I had a loaded chamber on line, and thumbed this hammer back.

I quickly walked forwards to were the sow had been and eased my way through the snarled scrub and tangled vines as best I could. As soon as I got near enough to the spot where she had been standing to see well, I could tell that it would be a short trail. Following the trail with my eyes, I saw her not twenty feet away. Lowering the Ruger's hammer, I slipped the six-gun back into its holster.

The slug, traveling at about 1100 fps had taken her low in the chest, right behind the elbow, tracking forward and obliterated the heart, and then punched a fist sized hole out the other side. I went back to where she was standing, and tried to line up the angle of fire. After a little back and forth looking, I found the furrow where the slug had slammed into the ground after passing through the hog. But after a pretty diligent search I couldn't find it. I figure with all the retained momentum it sailed into the next county after skipping along the dirt.

The rest was pretty anti-climactic. After fetching my trusty steed, I stowed all the guns after wiping them down with a silicon impregnated rag I carry in a double ziplock bag. I field dressed the sow, putting the entrails out in the open so our aerial garbage disposal friends would find them easily and clean it up quickly. I had never tried to put anything, other than my kids, on the horses back so when I tried to heave the 150 lbs or so of sow over his rump he just wasn't going to cooperate. It took snubbing him up tight to a tree and a lot of gymnastics on my part to get that pig up on him, but I ultimately prevailed, and I only got stepped on once!

By midmorning, wet, cold and sniffling, I had it at my Mexican friends' home. After much back slapping, merriment and the medicinal use of Bacardi's 151 Anejo rum, of which everyone partook of in case I was contagious, I left them with the promise that I'd be back later that evening for the party!

But that, my friends, is another story!

Best Regards,
Albert