Perfect!!  

You guys came to Savannah and didn't think to give me a call    ..............I'm CRUSHED!!!  

Hey Ray, are you donating a hunt at the TBG banquet . . . I might need to run by the bank if you are . .

I don't know, Matt....nobody asked me about it. They may have all they need, you know?

Ray, is that little slice of heaven north or south of 301?

wow, bright orange crocs, i have the bright yellow crocs.  great sandals.  sorry, great story as well.

thanks

its right near 301

yeah, centaurshooter, but a big fat guy doesn't need to draw attention to the only, well maybe one of two only- small features of his body, namely his FEET!!!! Bright shoes would make my butt look bigGER if I wore 'em!

Keith, sorry, we were burning it pretty hard.

Sunday morning dawned a bit cooler, maybe by a whole degree or two   :D  . Geared up, couple of deadly practice shots, we headed out for what was to be the last foray of the weekend.

Arriving to check out how the corn fared, we were faced with fact that during the night, someone had brought in an entire semi truck full of migrant workers with very small shovels to churn up the area we had corned so we couldn't find it. Dang! Bet they scared the pigs away.

The pig sign was plumb silly. EVERY single kernal of corn was gone, apparently sucked into a large sounder, or maybe 5 sounders, of pigs. No pigs to be found, no noise, just lots of tilled mud. Guerilla tactic one: no more mister nice hunter, get in thar after em! Ray and I split about 30 yards apart and began slipping through the clearcut they were most certainly bedded down in. The water was still churning, bubbles still on top....they couldn't be far.

Planted roes of youne pines mixed with blackberry, greenbriar, numerous small soft and hardwood saplings...but it was damp and we could move at least a modicum of silence. The wind swirled menacingly.....

No dice, nor pigs neither. Guerilla tactic one B: beat the bushes and run em outta thar! Ray volunteers to birddog, I slip back out of the cutdown and make my way down the road to a cutoff point by their proposed evacuation trail. On my way, I spot movement. Hunkering down to see what's coming, I make my best impression of  a 200# chubby shrub. Two lil piglets hop across the muddy ditch, both so small they make a slide and a splash when they can't cross it in one bound. Working myself for a more favorable wind, I actually at one point could almost touch one. Counting coup, at least in my head, I decided the sammiches wouldn't be worth the cleaning....I got razzed for that once already.   :rolleyes:  

Across the ditch, a pine tree about 10' tall was swaying dramatically, out of time with the breeze. Slip, crawl....spent 5 minutes getting into a position for a shot. Nice pig, I can see the dark brown through the grass, but not enough yet to get a shot. The fickle mistress the wind then decides I have not paid enough dues....with a "WOOF!" worthy of a large Rottweiler, she's gone...with the sammichs and by the sounds of it, a few more deeper in the brush. DOH!

Ahhhh, but the pounding of my heart and the sweat not caused by the heat is a sweet aftertaste I savor for a few moments....

I move to an area where I can see the escape route, but still check out the potential for more sightings under foot.

Ray emerged from the brush and we rejoined. He had seen or heard nothing....but was excited to hear my tale. Things were looking up. Trying to get a steady wind was futile, so....

The wind is roughly leading us to hunt the area where Terry ambushed his prey....I'm game! We still hunted through some more of the prettiest country I have seen on the way there:

 

 

 

The variance of terrain on this property is really amazing. It assures you won't get bored with your stalking, that's for sure.

Was gonna finish this but it looks like I've waited too long and lost my audience from boredom....   :p

great story,

I bet you guys could start your own line of bottled scents with those hoppers you have. CK might even lone you a blender for the manufactureing process. Or maybe you could just attach a paper-clip and freeze'em. That way when your ready to go huntin' all you have to do is throw them in your pack and hang'em in trees around you stand. Just an idea!    :D        

We're still hanging in there.  Don't stop now.  There has to be some blood on the ground somewhere -- after all, you're hunting Ray's favorite spot!

Well, folks..if'n no blood... then lets remember what Charlie is made infamous for saying,

Being there was good enough..."

Good story tellin and some fine pictorial edifications there amigo! And yha didn't short out yer camera with all that sweat!? Wow!

Tain't done yet doc....    

"Terry's field" as Ray so affectionately named it lay spread before us. The wind was right, and Ray felt certain there would be hogs lounging in the high grass:

 

I slipped around to the firebreak as Ray moved into position to attempt a push.

I was within 75 yards of my hopeful location when I heard a sound faintly reminiscent of a harley davidson nitro-methane drag bike idling at the start line......a BIGGG nitro-methane drag bike.

Whoops, gotta go....more tonight....  

That's not nice!!!  I've been hanging with you all the way with this one and now you have to go and do this.

I'm gonna go pout!!!    :(  I'll check back in the morning.  There, that'll show you!!

I'm leaving for Canada tomorrow at 9:00 AM pst, chop chop! LOL.

Beautiful country Joe. It would be fun just to rove around and shoot stuff. Having a chance at a hog would be a nice bonus. Thanks for sharing your pics and story.

Thanks Joe........really enjoyed the story so far....can't wait to read the rest.