Hog Hunting Hullabaloo: Bringing Home the Bacon

Just past sunset, our hope dwindling, we finally found a big boar, scarfing acorns under a stout oak. It was Donna’s shot, so I sat still in the back of the Jeep. Everything looked good; the pig dropped to the shot, then rolled into a depression behind the tree. It was getting dark, so we had better check quickly. Our rancher friend, Tony Lombardo, bailed out of the front seat, passed Donna, and vanished over the lip.

A second later, he came running back with an angry boar popping its jaws at his heels. I had no idea Tony could move so fast. He jinked, got clear, and another shot solved the problem. It was a big, blond-colored boar, its tusks thick and sharp. Old and thin, he gave us some adrenaline-pumping excitement.

Abundant Opportunities

So, here’s a quiz: What other game animal in North America is so widespread, so numerous, offers year-round hunting opportunities, and can be pursued with minimal licensing requirements? As to the first, only the black bear and whitetail deer occupy larger ranges. Feral hogs have been sighted in all lower 48 states, and are well established in nearly half of those, plus they range deep into Canada and Mexico. In numbers, nothing comes close to our whitetail deer, estimated at 25 to 30 million. Other native North American game animals exceed a million, but the feral hog is the clear second-place winner, now believed to exceed nine million.

Opportunity? No contest. In most areas that have hogs, hunting is year-round, with no bag limit, and any hog is legal game. Licensing? In most states, hogs can be hunted with the most basic hunting license. Texas, with the largest population, removed all license requirements for hogs. There are exceptions. In California, the feral hog is officially a big-game animal. The season runs all year long with no bag limit, but all big-game rules apply, and pigs must be tagged and reported.

In states that don’t have (or want) hogs, the rules may be quite different. We don’t have hogs in my part of Kansas, although “leakers” from Oklahoma are possible. As a landowner, I can shoot them 24/7 but, otherwise, it’s illegal to hunt, possess or transport non-domesticated pigs.

Big Game or Big Nuisance?

What you see always depends on where you sit. The feral hog is an invasive non-native. They are out of control in much of the Southeast, now doing a couple billion dollars worth of damage annually, with long-term effects on native fauna and flora unknown. That said, some populations, such as Florida and our California Central Coast, have been around for 400 years, originally introduced by Spanish seafarers as a meat source for passing ships.

On the Channel Islands, pigs became grossly overpopulated and were ravaging their isolated habitat; they were finally eradicated there about 30 years ago. However, pigs on the adjacent mainland aren’t a huge problem. That’s easy for me to say, since it’s not my barley fields or vineyards being destroyed. Because of periodic drought, our Central Coast hog population goes up and down and seems self-limiting. This is not true in Oklahoma, Texas, and on through the Southeast.

I’ve been hunting in Texas periodically for 50 years. Hogs were always around and present long before that. In recent years, the population has spread and exploded, for causes uncertain. Oklahoma long had hogs moving up from Texas, but now has a million of them. This cause is known: People dropped off a truckload here and there. For some, the intent was so they could sell hunts. Avoiding this situation is why, in Kansas, it is illegal to mess with feral hogs.

Once the hog genie gets out of the bottle, it’s difficult to put it back. Throughout the Southeast, hogs can generally be taken 24/7 by almost any means, including night sights and thermal imaging. In Texas, helicopter gunning is legal, with outfitters and flying services offering chopper hog hunts. Locally, such extreme measures can hold the line—for a while—but feral hogs are so prolific that, in the big picture, there is no indication numbers are diminishing.

Since I have no hogs on my property in Kansas, they are not my problem, and I have no stake in eradicating them. I’m happy to do my part, within limits. I have little interest in night vision and thermals, and less in helicopter gunning. Even when I can, I rarely wade into a sounder with the intent of dropping as many as I can. I think of hogs as game animals, and hunt them as such. I’m not saying this is correct, only that it’s my approach.

My buddy, Zack Aultman, has a pine plantation in Georgia, managed for turkeys and whitetails. Hogs are an increasing problem. “Shoot on sight” has always been the rule, but until recently, sightings weren’t common. Then the population exploded. Zack keeps records, and suddenly he was taking 1,200 hogs/year, with little apparent impact. Deer and turkeys suffered from the onslaught, so hog-control efforts increased, including trapping and extensive night shooting.

When I’m hunting there, I take a hog every chance I get, but I still think of them as game animals. Sitting on deer stands, I’ll get a hog now and again, but that’s not going to fix the problem.

I’ve hunted hogs in nearly a dozen states. Often, a hog is a bonus to another hunt, added excitement and some good pork. Other times, hogs are the primary pursuit, whether looking for a trophy boar or a fat sow. Either way, I consider them big game. This is the California model, one of few places in America where the feral hog has full status as a big-game animal.

I do not suggest this is appropriate everywhere, but there isn’t a major pig problem. Even in good years, long, dry summers limit food sources. Also, California’s hogs are a major resource. Landowners generate revenue by charging for access or leasing. In our area there, a half-dozen families make their living guiding hog hunters. Before the last big drought, there were three times that many. Then there are meat processors, taxidermists, and all the service businesses. I’m not saying hogs vie with vineyards or cattle ranching, but they are important on the Central Coast.

In the Golden State, feral hogs long surpassed deer as the state’s most popular game animal. They are also important for recreation and hunter participation. Initially touted “for gathering data,” pig tags started with a book of five for a few bucks. Now tags are sold singly, twelve bucks for rresidents—not so bad. Now that I claim Kansas as my residency, I need a full nonresident license and nonresident pig tag to hunt in California, both expensive. Even so, I love my hogs, so I choke it up and buy the license, plus one tag. Today I’m pretty careful how I use it.

Ballistic Laboratory

I was first stationed at Camp Pendleton in 1975. There were no pigs there at the time, but, coming from a state that didn’t have a deer season ‘til I was a teenager, I thought California’s year-round hog season was cool. It took time (and lots of night drives north), but that’s how I discovered the Central Coast. Back then, pre-drought, we found decent hog hunting on military bases and on little-known patches of public land. Opportunities increased when I got off active-duty and went to work for Petersen Publishing. I hated L.A., but it was closer to my favorite hog-hunting spots.

I didn’t figure this out by myself. Much of  hunting is networking, and I was young, avid, and in good shape. Not everybody was willing to hike into the places we went. Even then, in a pinch (meaning a desperate need to shoot a hog), there were outfitters hunting good private land. Costs today are still comparatively low, but in the 80s and 90s guided hog hunts were cheap.

So, feral hogs became my ballistics laboratory. This continued when I left the office in the early 90s and moved to the Central Coast.

After 30 years of living there, I have friends and contacts I didn’t have back then. One way or another, when I have a rifle, cartridge or optic I want to play with, I can usually find a hog for validation. And for making sure the freezer is stocked with jalapeno cheddar sausage.

Although an unrepentant pig hunter, I don’t crisscross the continent to hunt them, but I have opportunities elsewhere. I usually hunt in Texas a couple of times per year, and I get to Zack’s place in Georgia now and then. Just in the last few years, wild hogs have been the first game I’ve taken with several new (or new to me) cartridges, including: 6.5-300 Weatherby Magnum, .300 PRC, .350 Legend and .450 Bushmaster.

It’s a silly concept to shoot one or two animals with a new rifle/cartridge/bullet and offer a definitive opinion. Too many variables. Shoot 20 head and we’ll talk. Cost and opportunity are limiting factors, so genuinely valid “field testing” is difficult. Even when I can, I rarely shoot multiples. I don’t help much with population control, and I don’t pretend my porcine ballistics laboratory is irrefutable. I hunt pigs one at a time, place the shot as best I can, see what happens.

Hogs are an excellent testing media. Pound for pound, they’re hardier than deer, and the bigger they get, the tougher. Large hogs are sturdy creatures with stout shoulders. Cannons are not needed, but you must hit them hard and well with a bullet tough enough to guarantee penetration through thick gristle and solid muscle. While I don’t go so far as to consider them dangerous, they should not be underestimated, and a mature boar knows exactly how to use his tusks.

Methods and Medicine

I’ve done some hog hunting with dogs, a crazy-wild melee that enhances the danger. The hard part is closing in on the fight, and then getting a clear shot that won’t endanger the dogs. Distance will be close and cover thick, so this is a good use of a big handgun or short-barreled carbine.

In Texas and the Southeast, most hog hunting is done from stands, often over bait. Like all stand hunting, there are long, boring waits, but things get exciting when hogs appear, usually silently, out of nowhere. Shooting distance is somewhat controlled by how you sit your stand or choose your ambush, but needn’t be far. Light is the greatest limitation. Hogs are naturally nighttime feeders, and get more nocturnal with hunting pressure. Mature boars are like Count Dracula, turning to dust if touched by a ray of sunlight.

In most of American hogdom, night shooting is legal, but you still have to see them. For serious pig control, night sights and thermals are essential. You don’t have to go that far, but you need a light-gathering scope. Especially over bait, expect your shot to come at last light or a few minutes later.

On the Central Coast, we can’t bait and must observe shooting hours. This changes the game, so we hunt by spotting and stalking, which the country generally allows. I love it, but it’s a different game. We have no control over shooting distances; it depends on terrain and vegetation. With so many unknowns, the hog-stalking rifle must be versatile and well-scoped.

Scoping It Out

Left to my choices, I’m a bit of traditionalist. My most enjoyable hog hunting is with vintage rifles, often iron sights only. Boy, does this cut down success! I can’t always get close enough, but shooting light is the big issue. I need more light to resolve iron sights than I once did. Off and on for two years, I’ve been trying to shoot a hog with an old .500 black-powder express double rifle. I’ve had hogs close enough, but never with enough light that I felt confident.

Regardless of distance, the likelihood for low-light shooting means that, perhaps excepting hunting with hounds, the pig rifle must wear a scope or red-dot sight. I accept that, and when the freezer is empty, I acquiesce. The last hog I shot was with sort of a compromise rifle, a badly battered 1950s Savage 99 in .300 Savage with a not-quite-so-old 2-7x Leupold Compact.

We caught a big pig crossing a bottom, but he made us and bolted to the right just as I was squeezing. I got back on, swung hard, and felt good about the shot. The pig showed no reaction, except to streak up the next ridge. Then it seemed to falter and stopped in some thick stuff. Already scrambling uphill, I found an almost clear shot, and the hog came tumbling down the ridge straight toward me. I love my hogs!

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