Canada afew years back. They made it **** to get guns in so I did the crossbow gig. I tolt this story before :wink:
Anyways, X13 pigs, my 1st encounter with them. We chase the sons a biches around the compound until it bordered on foolish. The rooters knew we wanted to stick em and the y wouldn't let us get close enough for a shot.
Well, the Ole Coug here didn't just fall off no turnip truck. I noticed they kept commin out in the corner of the upper glade. So I went an set back in the goldenrods an hid jest off the bunny trail. I'll be boiled in linseed oil if not 5 minutes later I hear the oink gruntin I been dreamin about an here they come.
They marched out in single file and I swung up ahead of the biggest one an let fly. Now keep in mind this is a 150 pound crossbow with a red dot sight that I've been drivin quarters with practicin.
The bolt flew and I watched it....sheeet man......led em to much! Watchin....wait a minute.....by the time it gets to the pig, it hits em square in the ass!
Said rooter continues for about 40 yards and goes down. Huh? So I toodle on over and there is a bloodbath like you had to see to believ. Severed the femoral artey. The pig is down, but he's heavin, not dead. I hate that. Gotta finish it here an now.
So I pult my bowie out to do the deed. As I lean over to stick em he's on his feet like there ain't nothin wrong with him! I'm out in the open, there ain't a tree for 500 yards in any direction, and here come the pig!
Cool breeze here formulates a plan. Just as he's gonna hit I figger on spreadin my legs lettin em go through an then I'm gonna run like **** the other way. You see, I know pigs can't turn on a dime, necks too short :lol:
It was a good plan considerin, cept the dang pig was wider through the shoulders than I could spread my legs. The snout went through awrite, but them shoulders took the feet right out from under me! Now I'm goin backwards tryin to put the brakes on this fool pig while he's buckin like a brahma bull right in my chest!
I got me a hanfull of hog hair in the one hand hangin on fer dear life and stabbin to beat **** with the bowie in the other. I musta stabbed that son of a whore....****, I lost count, but it was a bunch a stickin. Some 50 yards or so later he's plum outa blood and goes down stone dead.
Me I'm layin on top of em figgerin I ain't got a rib left ain't broke. Then I hears this Gawd awful laughin an I look up to see the guides standin there with tears runnin down their frog faces. They said they ain't never seen nuthin like that an prly won't ever agin.
I lit em up, tolt em I coulda been kilt. Where in **** was my backup??? Made no nevermind, they was laughins so hard they a liked ta peed their pants, couldn't a shot anyways.
I keeps a tellin ya'll, these danged hogs are KILLERS!
Advocate-When the Bowie fails ya got one thing left ta do, protect the family jewels cause it's gonna get tense 8)