Boarhunting Adventure

By: John Michaels 

            It was an idea that appealed to my sense of adventure. I knew from the moment that I first heard about boar hunting that I had to experience this sensation personally and fully. I had heard that many states have boar hunting seasons. My own home state of Ohio has an open season on boar. While speaking to a member of the Division of Wildlife, I learned that the main reason the state has a boar season is to cull the number of feral hogs in the southern regions of the state. The Wildlife officer also told me that the number of truly wild boars is few. He also told me that Ohio has several hunting preserves of good reputation that cater to hunters who wish to hunt boar. He spoke of several others in nearby and neighboring states.

            I then proceeded to scan several publications he mentioned may have advertisements for these preserves. I found more than I had ever imagined existed. I requested information from all of the preserves in my home state of Ohio, and several others that were within a reasonable distance. After receiving the information i requested, it was a matter of researching each preserve or outfitter.

            I accomplished this by asking for references from each place. I also asked at gun shops and taxidermists that were local to each place. I asked them for any information they may have concerning the preserves or outfitters. I received several differing reports on many of the preserves, but one that I heard nothing but good about was White Oak Exotic Hunting Preserve. It is located in beautiful Senecaville, Ohio. I had spoken to one referred client and was given resounding praise about the preserve. Later, I was speaking to the proprietor of a gun shop near me when the subject of my boar hunting quest came up. He told me that he had hunted Spanish goat at White Oak and had a marvelous time. He highly recommended them. I was sold, an unsolicited response from someone I knew. My decision was made. My next step was to contact White Oak Preserve and reserve a hunt. I invited a friend to accompany me on the hunt. We decided that we would both hunt for boar, myself with a rifle. My friend, Jeff Yoder, decided to use his compound bow. We planned our hunt for mid-April, 1998. It coincided with the winding down of White Oak's spring season, and a beautiful time of year in east-central Ohio.

            White Oak offers hunts from February through April, and then September Through November. The client has a wide variety of animals to choose from. The list of possible game includes; Boar, Fallow Deer, Corsican  Ram, Texas Dall, Spanish Goats, Angora Goats, Black Hawaiian Ram, Sika Deer, Barbarousa Sheep, White-tailed Deer, Elk, and others. The seasons for White-tailed Deer and Elk are selective, but boar and rams are available during the afore-mentioned seasons.

            At my request, I received a video of the facilities and the animals. It was a well made and informative video, and the owner assured me that it was not just their best. It was everyday operations, and having now been there, I believe him. I was also sent a list of the accomodations and a list of things that I may wish to bring along. This list of possibles included many things would have brought anyway. It also advised us to bring several coolers and twice as much film as we thought we would need. I was glad that I had followed this suggestion when all was said and done.

            I took great pains to prepare myself for the hunt, as did Jeff. I had decided to hunt with a rifle because I was eager to use one of the rifles that I inherited from my father. He had always told me to make sure I exercised all my weapons regularly. He said it was wasteful to own a weapon and not use it unless that weapon was a collectors item.

            I decided to use his .30-30 Winchester. He had bought this rifle new in 1954 and had taken many deer with it in Michigan where he lived as a boy and young man. Ohio, on the other hand, has a law prohibiting the use of centerfire rifles for deer. Therefore I was never able to use it for it's intended purpose. On the preserve you are allowed to use any rifle you see fit. I saw fit to use dad's rifle and continue the tradition my grandfather started of hunting big game with the .30-30 Winchester.

            I began my preparation by choosing a load that would suit my purpose. I bought 100 rounds from the same lot number and proceeded to practice. When the week of the hunt arrived I had expended 60 rounds in practice from a bench and several off-hand positions. I had achieved a few one and one half inch groups from the bench, and my standing groups while using a sling were hovering just under three inches. I felt that i was ready.

            Meanwhile, Jeff has tuned his PSE Infinity bow to shoot 105 grain broad-heads into two inch groups at thirty yards. We now both feel very confident in our equipment and our mindset. We have devoured every article and book we could find on boar hunting. Our minds are focused and honed as sharp as our skinning knives.

            We arrive at White oak about five O'clock on the night before our hunt. We are greeted by our host who is also the owner, Eddie Potts. He introduces himself and his wife, and she shows us the way to our rooms. She explains the house rules and points out all of the facilities. She then tells us to feel free to look the place over, just do not go into the fenced  hunting enclosures. We proceed to investigate the lodge and the taxidermy area, admiring all the gorgeous mounts that Eddie has painstakingly finished. He has an obvious knack for his work. We also spot several animals inside the fenced parcels that we will be hunting in the morning. Our senses are on full alert. I will be lucky if I can sleep at all, because the adrenaline is flowing freely now. Jeff and I prepare our gear for the morning and then take some time to relax and talk with some of the other hunters. Several of the others are also after boar. In comparing knowledge I find that for two of the other hunters, this will be their second hunt on a preserve. they had a visited a preserve in their home state of Pennsylvania during the previous year. they were impressed with the accomodations here, because they were so spacious and clean. The housing for the hunters on the last preserve they had been an old farmhouse. We all talked about our various hunting experiences. Knowing that on the following morning we would be trying to add another to the list, we headed to bed.

            I awoke ten minutes before the alarm sounded. I laid still collecting my thoughts for the exciting day ahead. the sun is just begining to lighten the sky in the east as I step outside to look around. As i look toward the enclosure, I see a deer looking back at me and I hear other noises that can only be other animals just out of sight.

            I make my way to the dining room and lounge as breakfast is put on the sideboard. My adrenaline starts to percolate as I eat the boar sausage that is being served with the meal. After breakfast we all collect our weapons and mosey outside to meet our respective guides.

            Our guide approaches us and introduces himself as Bob Dudley. He asks us if we are ready to hunt. At our affirmative the guide, Jeff, and myself head into the enclosure.

            Our exciting day starts the minute we shut the gate. We all turn at the sound of movement in the brush to watch as a group of rams hustles off into the woods. We make our way down a well-worn trail that is covered in sign from various animals that have used it overnight. I see several sets of tracks that I recognize as hog sign. One set is extremely fresh and rather large. As we follow the trail a large boar exits the brush twenty-five yards behind us and to our left. We stop to look it over and our guide comments on the fine hide and size of the boar. this may have been a mistake, because the boar seems to take this as a sign of aggression. He turns and stares at us as he lowers his head and raises his hackles. The words "here he comes" ring in my ears as the boar begins to pop his tusks and move in our direction. We move briskly in the opposite direction. After a few minutes of this cat and mouse game, he decides we would look better in a tree. He makes a short bluff charge that looks more than long enough to reach us, and we dash for the lower branches of the nearest trees. I need to take a break here and explain that I am not a slight man. I am six feet four inches in my sock feet, and weigh around three hundred pounds. I attempted to find a tree to climb, but none of them looked sturdy enough. Those that were sturdy enough did not have branches on them for a while. As my guide and friend found perches of suitable height, I dodged behind a very large oak tree. The boar stopped about twelve feet from the tree that I was using for cover. He was looking at Jeff in the tree to my right, but kept his eye on me to make sure that I did not get any foolish ideas. This boar seemed intent on Jeff. He paid me very little attention, even when I was closer.

            After he moved off about thirty yards, we gave up our respective coverand tried to converse with our guide over our pounding heartbeats. As we begin to speak the boar decides he would rather hear silence, and charges again. This time Jeff and I were both caught on the ground as the boar pinned us down behind trees, ten feet from each other. Once again the boar paid nearly no attention to me while concentrating on Jeff. At this point he was circling the tree Jeff was behind as Jeff circled to avoid him. The boar once again trotted off a short distance as we conferred with our guide. I ask Jeff if he feels any connection with this animal. He says that it was interesting how the boar paid no mind to me even when I was behind it at close range, yet bored it's stare into Jeff at all times. He asked the guide if there was any reason he should not shoot this boar. The guide gives him the green light and we begin to stalk into bow range. If the guide or I were near Jeff, the boar would not let us come near it. When Jeff went on his own, he had no problem getting into position.

            As Jeff tried to get a good angle on the boar, the boar was trying to get a good angle on Jeff. The boar made the mistake of crossing the trail broadside to Jeff at about eighteen yards. Jeff's first arrow hit slightly high behind the left front leg of the boar. It did not even flinch as the 105 grain broadhead tore through it's flesh and hide. Bright red blood started to trickle down the boar's side immediately. He walked on as if nothing happened. Jeff nocked another arrowas the boar circled him menacingly at about twenty yards. The boar stopped in an opening in the brush and presented Jeff another broadside shot. He released his arrow directly into the boar's lungs, straight across behind it's leg. Once again the boar showed no notice of this fatal wound as it unhurriedly circled Jeff  while popping it's tusks and bristling it's hackles. Jeff began to look worried when he realized that two arrows that would have, either one, dropped a white-tail had not even slowed this animal down in the slightest. The boar turned and started away through the brush at an unhurried pace, with Jeff, the guide, and myself following slowly behind. When the boar realizes we are following, it turns in our direction again. It veers away from us at fifteen yards as Jeff nocks his third arrow. It stops, again with it's left side facing us at twenty yards and Jeff releases, what will be his final arrow of the day, to travel completely through the hog from left to right. The arrow continues on into the ground ten feet beyond the boar. As this arrow passes through him, his mighty frame shudders as if he can feel the hand of the Reaper on his meaty flank. The proud boar then turns and trots thirty-five yards to a wide oak tree. This is where he laid down and expired with one last grunt from deep in his chest. We retieved Jeff's arrow that had passed through and proceed to approach the boar.

            After making sure that this formidable animal had given up the ghost, we took many pictures of the boar, and Jeff, and the guide in different poses. Then the work started. the guide and I moved the boar to a level spot for the field dressing. It was all that we could do to move it. The guide estimated its weight at two hundred and fifty pounds. When I grasped the boar's front leg, just above the hoof, my hand could not reach all the way around it.

            As we were finishing up the chore of fisld dressing, a group pf about a dozen hogs passed over a ridge to our right at a distance of about one hundred and twenty yards. In this group of hogs was a boar with a reddish color coat that would be called roan on a horse. I pointed this boar out to my guide and told him that was the animal I wanted. The guide radioed into the lodge and told them where to pick up Jeff's boar and then we were off afte mine. We followed their tracks until they were crossed by the tracks of some rams and lost. At this point we talked about where our guide thought the boar would go. We checked several areas that the guide thought might be productive, but all we found was fresh sign. He then suggested we go to a ridge further into the compound where the boars sometimes watered. By being above the valley floor on the ridge we could watch for the group of hogs to approach the stream below. After hurrying to this spot to intercept them, we waited for twenty-five minutes. Just as my guide says he thinks we should try to find them somewhere else, we hear some hogs coming over the ridge behind us. It is the roan I have picked out and a boar of considerable size. They sense us and turn to our right. They hurry down a draw to a path that runs along the fence. My mind slips into "predator mode" as I follow the back side of the ridge to the point. By now they are seventy-five yards away and getting farther by the second. My guide give me the go-ahead for either boar if I can make the shot. As I am trying to find a hole to shoot through, the bigger boar pushes my boar into the electric wire running along the inside of the fence. My boar brushes the wire and begins to squeal and flail the larger boar. In the confusion they turn and head back towards us. I can feel that the time is near. I wrap the sling of my rifle around my elbow to steady my aim as the tense and excited animals come nearer. The larger boar is coming up the draw they originally went down, while the roan boar I want is heading across a bench seventy-five in front of us. As I am drawing a bead on my boar I hear the larger one coming up behind my guide. I turn to see the guide intent on my shot and not noticing the large boar thirty feet behind him and closing. I point it out in time for him to discourage it's charge. I then turn to see my boar still crossing in front of me at a trot, forty-five yards away. Time seems to slow as I rivet my gaze on a clump of mud stuck behind the shoulder of the boar. I settle the bead on the clump of mud and match the speed of my rifle barrel to the speed of the boar. I raise my sights a mite to account for the down-hill angle. I squeeze the trigger and the gun surprises me as it goes off, just as it should.It all seems to happen in slow motion as the bullet hole appears in the boar's side. I lever another cartridge into the chamber, just in case.The boar takes ten steps, staggering for the last few, and then collapses. this leaves my sights on a dead animal as I wait for it to jump to it's hooves and bolt into the brush.

            Hands are shaken all around as we move down to admire the roan boar.  Jeff assists me in taking pictures of the boar and we once again go about the welcome chore of field-dressing.

            Some Native American tribes have a custom to honor the animal that is to feed you, by burying it's heart in the Earth you release it's spirit to the care of the Great Spirit. I did this with reverence, thanking the Great Spirit for the opportunity to hunt this strong and noble creature. It is our responsibility, as hunters, to do our best to ensure a quick and painless death to our prey. The animals we hunt and the land we hunt on are a gift from the Great Spirit, to be appreciated and honored with dignified behavior and actions while we hunt.

            As I write this, My freezer is full of delicious boar meat. My mind is filled with the pride and accomplishment of a hunt well performed and well enjoyed. My wall awaits the arrival of the boar's gorgeous hide to make it's bare surface seem whole. All is right in my world as I tell you the tale of this event, and plan the next.