...I've been cleaning pigs all day and I'm tired.
Josh sat with me throughout the early morning nodding his head, sqashing mosquitoes, being happy to be out but bored with the lack of game while I attempted to get him interested in the red-shouldered hawk that was eating bugs in front of us, the doves coming and going, and the holes in the forest edge through which we should be looking to see if anything was looking back. When two cardinals crossed to the trees I retrieved my bird "squeeker", which if played right sounds like cardinals chirping. He was good with that.
At 8:43 AM a sounder of six pigs emerged from a tree line 90 yards in front headed straight for us. He took my 270 and aimed for the lead pig. "I'm going to take the first one", he said just as the sounder broke to our right behind some trees. "I think I'll take the last one then". He followed the walking pig and shot cleanly through the brown and tan one's spine dropping it without another kick as the sounder broke to our left and back into the open field we were watching. The remaining five stopped broadside and I urged him to take another.
Two lined up standing still and he jerked the shot beneath them both. Now they bolted at wharp speed in five directions back toward the thick woods. I figured we were done. Then I heard him jack another round into the chamber. Blam. A black one goes down. Blam a miss. Blam, another black one goes down and the first black one gets up so he shoots it again.
My boy is a regular duck hunter and apparently likes his game on the run. Three pigs in close succession. Two, each with one shot, and one with a follow up. I've been cleaning pigs with him ever since. He's strutting tonight.
