3lilpigs
Member
- Joined
- May 24, 2021
- Messages
- 43
I got my first compound bow at the start of this year. It wasn’t my first bow—I bought a Samick Sage recurve a few years ago. But the kid behind the counter at the archery shop was spectacularly unhelpful in guiding me toward the right arrows, and I had no idea what to look for. So I spent a couple of months missing my target bag before I gave up and gave away the recurve. Then this year, hunting with a gun was a mess. There were more hunters than ever because of pandemic boredom. I can only afford to hunt public land, and I couldn’t find a spot in the woods that wasn’t less than 100 yards away from the next @$$h*le wearing blaze orange. So I decided to revisit the bow as an extension to my hunting season. If I can’t get away from the other folks, at least I can try to get a few more shot opportunities, right? So I bought a Mission Switch. I had it set at 50lb draw and set up to my dimensions (at a different shop), and I did my own research on how to set up arrows. And I practiced. And I researched. And practiced some more.
And by researching, I discovered saddle hunting. At first, I kind of wished that I’d discovered the expensive saddle hunting hobby before I decided to get involved with the expensive archery hobby. Saddle hunting seemed perfect for me, whereas archery was just an interesting way to get more hunting time. But the bow was growing on me quickly, becoming an obsession. And then we got a couple of stimulus checks. I decided that, as long as I spent my stimmy checks at small businesses inside the US, I was doing my part to help both my fellow Americans and myself (my wife and I both have recession-proof jobs: she teaches and I sell guns. Our finances were stable when we got the checks.). I bought an H2 Slingshot saddle, A couple tethers, a ring of steps, and an SRT system from various cobbled-together parts on Wesspur. I obsessively climbed trees and shot arrows from height in my yard until my neighbors started worrying about my mental health. I built a version of Tethrd’s HYS gear hanger using paracord and a Night-Ize Camjam. Pretty soon I discovered the weakness of SRT: imagine trying to get a rope up into a tree, at just the right spot, in the dark at 5am. So I bought a set of 8 Wild Edge Stepps and their Perch, which immediately replaced the ring of steps. The Stepps and Perch arrived. I had a hunt the next day, and 3 pre-set paracord lines out in some prime hog spots. I decided to consider this first hunt “real-world practice” and not be disappointed when I came home empty handed.
For my first saddle hunt, I decided to use the rifle I was used to. If I was using an unfamiliar hunting system, I might as well be used to my weapon. And I’ll admit, my first climb was less than ideal. I was loud, and slow, and I definitely heard a hog rustle in the bushes nearby and run away when I made too much noise. Finally, though, I settled into my tether and set up my gear. I was eventually ready at legal shooting hours, 6:12am. I stood and squatted, and turned around. I tested the bounds of my system as quietly as I could. At 8am, an 80-90lb hog passed by. It was within range, but moving fast and passing behind trees and palmettos. I drew my gun and leveled the crosshairs, but never came close to fingering the trigger. I decided to consider this a checkmark in the WIN column for saddle hunting, and to expect nothing more from the day. For an hour I heard crashing in the palmettos behind my tree, and so I stood facing backward. My tether crossed over my left shoulder. In the times when the hog movement was loud, I took my .357 Magnum rifle from its hook on the gear hanger. When it wasn’t, I drank some water and quietly ate a carrot from out of my pack. I really started to need to piss. Then I heard-- and saw-- the palmettos moving just behind my oak. Peeing could wait.
A different sow stepped out, solid black, smaller than I expected. Her piglets gathered nervously at the palmetto edge as she sniffed around. I reminded myself to breathe slow and deep, take my time, wait for a shot. On hogs, a shot in the “bread basket” is a confirmed kill, but it means the hog will run and the human will track, and hogs don’t bleed much. I waited for that anchoring shot in the spine of the neck. A minute later, I pulled the trigger. She didn’t even squeal, just turned tight circles using her front legs. Unfortunately, I couldn’t deliver a finishing shot to her brain because she’d moved behind another limb of my oak. While I waited, I realized that her shoats were still there. They would die without her, starved or coyote prey. But boy, wouldn’t they be sweet on the smoker? So while I waited for a second shot on the sow, I knocked down a shoat with a head shot. The gunshot scattered the rest of the babies and stirred mama, so I was able to put a finishing shot on her. Shaking with excitement at an amazing first saddle hunt, I started to gather my gear to rappel down. My Thermacell went into the pack, and then my rangefinder… and then I heard the shoats circle back. I took another headshot, leaving two to run off. I reckon I could have waited and eventually taken all four babies, but there’s a nice ring to taking 3 lil pigs. Plus, I’m not greedy. On the ground, I learned how much larger a “small” hog may be than its appearance from 25 feet up a tree. This gal was 125-140lbs. Since I tend to aim for smaller meat hogs, she was maybe the largest I’d ever taken.
Honestly, I was a little disappointed when my best friend wanted to do the same hunt the following Saturday. I already had plenty of meat in the freezer. But it had been a hard season for both of us, and I wasn’t about to leave him hanging. Since there was plenty of pig sign in the area, we decided to return to the same place. He would set up with his revolver, in the right spot to ambush the 90-pounder I’d seen early in the day. I would set up in the same tree, but with my bow this time. If I’d gotten my first saddle kill, maybe now I could get my first bow kill. So on Thursday I re-set my pre-set, and on Saturday morning I climbed back up. I was tired. I was unmotivated. And if we’re being honest, I was kind of hung over. I had an Immodium in me, hopefully holding off the squirts I’d been experiencing since waking up. If I was loud and slow climbing up the first time, this second climb was a travesty. I banged and scraped off of every oak limb on my way up. I actually DROPPED my WE Perch at one point, and my pal tied it into my rope so that I could retrieve it. I was an unhappy $h!tshow climbing up that tree. Exhausted, sweating, and pissy, I took my spot on the Perch under tether. I swatted the few skeeters who braved the Thermacell. I drank water and ate carrots, waiting for my pal to shoot a pig or give up. My brain throbbed to a completely different beat than the song that was stuck in my head. I kneeled against the tree and then stood, stretching my legs. I faced forward and backward, hoping to ease the tension in my back. A flock of turkeys and about a half dozen squirrels played around me, doing their best impressions of nearby pigs. It was hard to be miserable after a beautiful Florida sunrise in the woods, but I tried my best.
At 9am, a small sow broke cover under my tree in the same spot as the last one. I unhooked my bow and set up just before she stepped out, then waited for a shot. She was much more cautious than the last sow, but she didn’t look up quite enough to notice my draw. There was a sound when the arrow hit, halfway between a grunt and a squeal. She ran a short C-shaped retreat. I saw where she dropped. Her shoats, old enough to fend for themselves, scattered in four directions. My pal and I had a short convo on the walkie-talkies, and he met me under my tree. It was a quick track and a short drag out. The arrow had crashed through a rib, both lungs, the heart, chipped another rib on the way out, passed entirely through the meat of her right shoulder, and buried 6” into the soft Florida sand underneath her. She was huge compared to what I thought I’d seen from the tree. Still, it was a much easier drag out of the woods with my buddy than I’d had the week before, when I was solo. At the check station, I found out that there was a scale. This pig weighed 140 lbs exactly. She was the same height as the sow the week before, but longer and leaner. Once again, I’d misjudged the size from so far up the tree.
So that was my last two weekends. This week my wife and I returned to the woods, where we retrieved my paracord pre-sets and trail tape. At one of my unused pre-sets, we passed within 30 yards of a sounder of several large hogs with some piglets.
Next season is going to be good.
We haven’t chatted yet, but big thanks to everyone on this forum for all the information that I’ve searched and sweated over. I hope that soon I can start helping provide info to get people into safe and successful hunts.
And by researching, I discovered saddle hunting. At first, I kind of wished that I’d discovered the expensive saddle hunting hobby before I decided to get involved with the expensive archery hobby. Saddle hunting seemed perfect for me, whereas archery was just an interesting way to get more hunting time. But the bow was growing on me quickly, becoming an obsession. And then we got a couple of stimulus checks. I decided that, as long as I spent my stimmy checks at small businesses inside the US, I was doing my part to help both my fellow Americans and myself (my wife and I both have recession-proof jobs: she teaches and I sell guns. Our finances were stable when we got the checks.). I bought an H2 Slingshot saddle, A couple tethers, a ring of steps, and an SRT system from various cobbled-together parts on Wesspur. I obsessively climbed trees and shot arrows from height in my yard until my neighbors started worrying about my mental health. I built a version of Tethrd’s HYS gear hanger using paracord and a Night-Ize Camjam. Pretty soon I discovered the weakness of SRT: imagine trying to get a rope up into a tree, at just the right spot, in the dark at 5am. So I bought a set of 8 Wild Edge Stepps and their Perch, which immediately replaced the ring of steps. The Stepps and Perch arrived. I had a hunt the next day, and 3 pre-set paracord lines out in some prime hog spots. I decided to consider this first hunt “real-world practice” and not be disappointed when I came home empty handed.
For my first saddle hunt, I decided to use the rifle I was used to. If I was using an unfamiliar hunting system, I might as well be used to my weapon. And I’ll admit, my first climb was less than ideal. I was loud, and slow, and I definitely heard a hog rustle in the bushes nearby and run away when I made too much noise. Finally, though, I settled into my tether and set up my gear. I was eventually ready at legal shooting hours, 6:12am. I stood and squatted, and turned around. I tested the bounds of my system as quietly as I could. At 8am, an 80-90lb hog passed by. It was within range, but moving fast and passing behind trees and palmettos. I drew my gun and leveled the crosshairs, but never came close to fingering the trigger. I decided to consider this a checkmark in the WIN column for saddle hunting, and to expect nothing more from the day. For an hour I heard crashing in the palmettos behind my tree, and so I stood facing backward. My tether crossed over my left shoulder. In the times when the hog movement was loud, I took my .357 Magnum rifle from its hook on the gear hanger. When it wasn’t, I drank some water and quietly ate a carrot from out of my pack. I really started to need to piss. Then I heard-- and saw-- the palmettos moving just behind my oak. Peeing could wait.
A different sow stepped out, solid black, smaller than I expected. Her piglets gathered nervously at the palmetto edge as she sniffed around. I reminded myself to breathe slow and deep, take my time, wait for a shot. On hogs, a shot in the “bread basket” is a confirmed kill, but it means the hog will run and the human will track, and hogs don’t bleed much. I waited for that anchoring shot in the spine of the neck. A minute later, I pulled the trigger. She didn’t even squeal, just turned tight circles using her front legs. Unfortunately, I couldn’t deliver a finishing shot to her brain because she’d moved behind another limb of my oak. While I waited, I realized that her shoats were still there. They would die without her, starved or coyote prey. But boy, wouldn’t they be sweet on the smoker? So while I waited for a second shot on the sow, I knocked down a shoat with a head shot. The gunshot scattered the rest of the babies and stirred mama, so I was able to put a finishing shot on her. Shaking with excitement at an amazing first saddle hunt, I started to gather my gear to rappel down. My Thermacell went into the pack, and then my rangefinder… and then I heard the shoats circle back. I took another headshot, leaving two to run off. I reckon I could have waited and eventually taken all four babies, but there’s a nice ring to taking 3 lil pigs. Plus, I’m not greedy. On the ground, I learned how much larger a “small” hog may be than its appearance from 25 feet up a tree. This gal was 125-140lbs. Since I tend to aim for smaller meat hogs, she was maybe the largest I’d ever taken.
Honestly, I was a little disappointed when my best friend wanted to do the same hunt the following Saturday. I already had plenty of meat in the freezer. But it had been a hard season for both of us, and I wasn’t about to leave him hanging. Since there was plenty of pig sign in the area, we decided to return to the same place. He would set up with his revolver, in the right spot to ambush the 90-pounder I’d seen early in the day. I would set up in the same tree, but with my bow this time. If I’d gotten my first saddle kill, maybe now I could get my first bow kill. So on Thursday I re-set my pre-set, and on Saturday morning I climbed back up. I was tired. I was unmotivated. And if we’re being honest, I was kind of hung over. I had an Immodium in me, hopefully holding off the squirts I’d been experiencing since waking up. If I was loud and slow climbing up the first time, this second climb was a travesty. I banged and scraped off of every oak limb on my way up. I actually DROPPED my WE Perch at one point, and my pal tied it into my rope so that I could retrieve it. I was an unhappy $h!tshow climbing up that tree. Exhausted, sweating, and pissy, I took my spot on the Perch under tether. I swatted the few skeeters who braved the Thermacell. I drank water and ate carrots, waiting for my pal to shoot a pig or give up. My brain throbbed to a completely different beat than the song that was stuck in my head. I kneeled against the tree and then stood, stretching my legs. I faced forward and backward, hoping to ease the tension in my back. A flock of turkeys and about a half dozen squirrels played around me, doing their best impressions of nearby pigs. It was hard to be miserable after a beautiful Florida sunrise in the woods, but I tried my best.
At 9am, a small sow broke cover under my tree in the same spot as the last one. I unhooked my bow and set up just before she stepped out, then waited for a shot. She was much more cautious than the last sow, but she didn’t look up quite enough to notice my draw. There was a sound when the arrow hit, halfway between a grunt and a squeal. She ran a short C-shaped retreat. I saw where she dropped. Her shoats, old enough to fend for themselves, scattered in four directions. My pal and I had a short convo on the walkie-talkies, and he met me under my tree. It was a quick track and a short drag out. The arrow had crashed through a rib, both lungs, the heart, chipped another rib on the way out, passed entirely through the meat of her right shoulder, and buried 6” into the soft Florida sand underneath her. She was huge compared to what I thought I’d seen from the tree. Still, it was a much easier drag out of the woods with my buddy than I’d had the week before, when I was solo. At the check station, I found out that there was a scale. This pig weighed 140 lbs exactly. She was the same height as the sow the week before, but longer and leaner. Once again, I’d misjudged the size from so far up the tree.
So that was my last two weekends. This week my wife and I returned to the woods, where we retrieved my paracord pre-sets and trail tape. At one of my unused pre-sets, we passed within 30 yards of a sounder of several large hogs with some piglets.
Next season is going to be good.
We haven’t chatted yet, but big thanks to everyone on this forum for all the information that I’ve searched and sweated over. I hope that soon I can start helping provide info to get people into safe and successful hunts.
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