And God warned the Israelites that great beasts would rise from the darkness and defile the land. So what sort of great beast did the Lord beset upon Texas? Descended from Russian stock, this creature is one of the meanest, most ill tempered critters ever created. Its only enemy is man. What is this formidable beast? Armed with six to eight inch tusks and weighing in at up to 1000 pounds when fully grown, it is none other than the feral hog, and have I got a hog story for you.
These critters by the hundreds destroy prime ranch land in north Texas and they have to be controlled. So our friend, James, runs a trap line across nearly 1500 acres. The hog traps are made of wire, 4’ wide by 8’ long with corn as bait and a trapdoor that slams shut when the animals enter. Those stupid enough (as if their pea-sized brains make them intelligent) to get caught, get fattened up for market or sent to Brother Melvin, the Baptist preacher, not for saving but for sausage makin’!
We took our grandkids with us on our last visit to Texas to see our friends, James and Elizabeth. Their granddaughter, ‘Lizbeth goes hog trapping with her Pawpaw and Meemaw and she was so excited to introduce Mason and his grandparents to wild hogs.
The first two traps were empty, but as we reached the third, we could clearly see that it held eight small, 30-pound hogs. They’d get shushed into James trailer and hauled to the ranch for fattening.
“Mason,” ‘Lizbeth offered. “Y’all wanna pet a pig? Pawpaw, catch us a pig.”
Mason is our hunter and all around outdoor boy. Of course, he wanted to pet a pig. He marched beside the little girl to the hog trap. James grabbed one of the pigs by the back leg, it let out a blood-curdling squeal, and Mason’s scream matched that pig’s decibel for decibel. He lit out for the truck like he’d been peppered with buckshot. He grabbed the door handle … locked! Mason panicked. Finally, I realized what was happening so opened the door. He dove in. If that little fellow could have gotten any closer, he’d have been under my skin. So Mason decided that hogs are good for nothing except bacon.
So later that day, James had a load of hogs to deliver to a Cambodian couple that lived in Jacksboro. They said they would take all that James could supply. Those folks didn’t know what they were asking. We left the kids with ‘Lizabeth’s mom and headed for town with a load of eight, vile 300 pound hogs crammed into a trailer. They snorted, squealed, and raised a ruckus that could be heard as far away as Mexico. As we rode through town, I noticed Elizabeth sliding down in her seat. James laid on the horn and waved.
“Hey, Elizabeth,” he laughed with a Texas roar. “Ain’t that your uppity friends from the Bunco club?”
“Y’all shut up ‘n keep driving,” she spat. I have always said that Elizabeth reminded me of a pre-nipped and tucked Dolly Parton. She speaks with an even more pronounced Dolly accent. I know y’all would just love her.
Finally we arrived at the Cambodian folks’ ten-acre place. James knocked and this tiny woman barely four feet tall answered the door. Elizabeth explained that Soo does all the work because her husband, Coo Ma, is paralyzed and confined to a wheelchair.
Soo motioned James to take the hogs around back. She walked ahead of us, Coo Ma watched from his wheelchair on the back porch, and their Pit Bull snarled and tried to gnaw its way into the hog trailer. James backed the trailer up to a rickety wooden hog pen. By this time, the Pit Bull had the hogs ticked off and ready to fight. James opened the trailer gate and here’s where the story get exciting. If you know anything about hogs, you know they all follow the herd. They rushed the door at the same time but by the time the last one broke free of the trailer, the first ones hit the opposite end of the hog pen and were on a beeline back to the trailer. Two of them made it back inside, but the gate swung shut and the next two bounced off and busted through the wooden fence. James plugged the hole, trapping the rest inside the hog yard. But two fugitives were loping for freedom with the Pit Bull in hot pursuit. The dog turned them and now they were thundering straight towards us.
Walzie and James leaped onto the side of the trailer, Elizabeth and I jumped into the truck, Soo clung to the trailer hitch spouting out about 15 yards of her native dialect, and James drew his 2-shot derringer. Should he just shoot himself and let the rest of us deal with the wild hogs, shoot the Pit Bull, shoot and shut Soo’s mouth, or shoot the two hogs? He fired! The dust flew in front of the charging hogs. James never did claim to be good shot; the Hogzillas were still thundering like a missile straight at us.
Suddenly, we heard two loud rifle cracks. Just like an old cowboy, Coo Ma, sitting in his wheelchair on the porch, dropped those two hogs about 10 paces from James. Coo Ma calmly laid down his gun and shouted to Soo. The tiny woman, still ranting, scurried into the shed and returned with a wheelbarrow and a hacksaw. They’d have pork chops tonight. And the Pit Bull? When the first shot fired, it lit out across the prairie! Probably the smartest one of the bunch.
As we headed back to the ranch, we all said a prayer of thanks for that old Cambodian cowboy’s straight shooting. Elizabeth chewed on James about never selling any more wild hogs. Little did she know that James had already sold two more trailer loads. In fact he told her he was going to put a sign on the side of his truck that said, “Hogs for Sale, call Elizabeth”.
So now you know why we love to vacation in Texas. It’s always an adventure.
These critters by the hundreds destroy prime ranch land in north Texas and they have to be controlled. So our friend, James, runs a trap line across nearly 1500 acres. The hog traps are made of wire, 4’ wide by 8’ long with corn as bait and a trapdoor that slams shut when the animals enter. Those stupid enough (as if their pea-sized brains make them intelligent) to get caught, get fattened up for market or sent to Brother Melvin, the Baptist preacher, not for saving but for sausage makin’!
We took our grandkids with us on our last visit to Texas to see our friends, James and Elizabeth. Their granddaughter, ‘Lizbeth goes hog trapping with her Pawpaw and Meemaw and she was so excited to introduce Mason and his grandparents to wild hogs.
The first two traps were empty, but as we reached the third, we could clearly see that it held eight small, 30-pound hogs. They’d get shushed into James trailer and hauled to the ranch for fattening.
“Mason,” ‘Lizbeth offered. “Y’all wanna pet a pig? Pawpaw, catch us a pig.”
Mason is our hunter and all around outdoor boy. Of course, he wanted to pet a pig. He marched beside the little girl to the hog trap. James grabbed one of the pigs by the back leg, it let out a blood-curdling squeal, and Mason’s scream matched that pig’s decibel for decibel. He lit out for the truck like he’d been peppered with buckshot. He grabbed the door handle … locked! Mason panicked. Finally, I realized what was happening so opened the door. He dove in. If that little fellow could have gotten any closer, he’d have been under my skin. So Mason decided that hogs are good for nothing except bacon.
So later that day, James had a load of hogs to deliver to a Cambodian couple that lived in Jacksboro. They said they would take all that James could supply. Those folks didn’t know what they were asking. We left the kids with ‘Lizabeth’s mom and headed for town with a load of eight, vile 300 pound hogs crammed into a trailer. They snorted, squealed, and raised a ruckus that could be heard as far away as Mexico. As we rode through town, I noticed Elizabeth sliding down in her seat. James laid on the horn and waved.
“Hey, Elizabeth,” he laughed with a Texas roar. “Ain’t that your uppity friends from the Bunco club?”
“Y’all shut up ‘n keep driving,” she spat. I have always said that Elizabeth reminded me of a pre-nipped and tucked Dolly Parton. She speaks with an even more pronounced Dolly accent. I know y’all would just love her.
Finally we arrived at the Cambodian folks’ ten-acre place. James knocked and this tiny woman barely four feet tall answered the door. Elizabeth explained that Soo does all the work because her husband, Coo Ma, is paralyzed and confined to a wheelchair.
Soo motioned James to take the hogs around back. She walked ahead of us, Coo Ma watched from his wheelchair on the back porch, and their Pit Bull snarled and tried to gnaw its way into the hog trailer. James backed the trailer up to a rickety wooden hog pen. By this time, the Pit Bull had the hogs ticked off and ready to fight. James opened the trailer gate and here’s where the story get exciting. If you know anything about hogs, you know they all follow the herd. They rushed the door at the same time but by the time the last one broke free of the trailer, the first ones hit the opposite end of the hog pen and were on a beeline back to the trailer. Two of them made it back inside, but the gate swung shut and the next two bounced off and busted through the wooden fence. James plugged the hole, trapping the rest inside the hog yard. But two fugitives were loping for freedom with the Pit Bull in hot pursuit. The dog turned them and now they were thundering straight towards us.
Walzie and James leaped onto the side of the trailer, Elizabeth and I jumped into the truck, Soo clung to the trailer hitch spouting out about 15 yards of her native dialect, and James drew his 2-shot derringer. Should he just shoot himself and let the rest of us deal with the wild hogs, shoot the Pit Bull, shoot and shut Soo’s mouth, or shoot the two hogs? He fired! The dust flew in front of the charging hogs. James never did claim to be good shot; the Hogzillas were still thundering like a missile straight at us.
Suddenly, we heard two loud rifle cracks. Just like an old cowboy, Coo Ma, sitting in his wheelchair on the porch, dropped those two hogs about 10 paces from James. Coo Ma calmly laid down his gun and shouted to Soo. The tiny woman, still ranting, scurried into the shed and returned with a wheelbarrow and a hacksaw. They’d have pork chops tonight. And the Pit Bull? When the first shot fired, it lit out across the prairie! Probably the smartest one of the bunch.
As we headed back to the ranch, we all said a prayer of thanks for that old Cambodian cowboy’s straight shooting. Elizabeth chewed on James about never selling any more wild hogs. Little did she know that James had already sold two more trailer loads. In fact he told her he was going to put a sign on the side of his truck that said, “Hogs for Sale, call Elizabeth”.
So now you know why we love to vacation in Texas. It’s always an adventure.
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