OL' MR. TUSKER
by Steve Moody
It was the 14th of August 1997 and not your typical good hog hunting weather, the wind seemed to be blowing 100 mph, the ground was dry as it could be, and even though it was night the hogs layed up until 3:00 a.m. or so. It was 9:00 p.m. and we were going to go hunting anyway. We loaded up Paco, Jeff, RIP, and Yule for bay dogs, they are a real circus act. Paco is a 3/4 cur 1/4 Plott, he came to us awhile back when another hunter called it quits, he is a real go getter. Jeff, a 1/2 black and tan 1/2 birddog, or so we were told, he doesn’t show much birddog, but he doesn’t bark a trail and is more solid than any other 15 month old pup I know. RIP is a NALC registered leopard and started life as a catch dog, wore a vest and all, he retired from catching at a little over a year. Yule is 1/2 Lacy 1/2 Catahoula. He has the worst baying voice you’ll ever hear, but you will hear him.
Loaded up for their fourth hunt were our four Dogos: Star, Flash, Wulf, and Turk. They are a mottly crew, all being nine month old pups with the exception of Star who is their mother and two years old. This was her fourth hunt too. As far as background on the pups, we had them catching 150 lb boars at six months. They caught their first shoat at two months.
This particular night started like most - we were late arriving and still had to vest and collar dogs. The four bay dogs are old pros and it’s easy. The pups had been on three hunts not including this one and caught three hogs, a 150 lb sow, a 200 lb boar, and 220 lb sow. They think when the tailgate drops it’s time to catch a pig. After several minutes of wrestling with 90 lb dogs we had them vested and roaring to catch a pig.
Calvin the lead hog scouter and official permission getter, had us set up for a hunt in the nastiest thorn patch in this part of South Texas. We had been seeing a track for about six months that looked to go around 450 lbs. He was running with a smaller hog we figured weighed 250 or so. We split into two groups, Calvin and Carl moving to a South fenceline to try and keep the hog from crossing into land we couldn’t hunt, and if that failed catch the dogs as they crossed through the five foot field fence with one hole.
Myself, my brother Mark, Luke and his wife Kim, and Will all went to the North side to hunt the dogs into the fierce wind. As the tail gate dropped all the bay dogs exited and took off at a dead run back over the road we had just driven. 100 yds, 200 yds, 300 yds, 400 yds, hard left wait ten seconds and bam, baying like crazy. We move that way with the catch dogs, but Ol' Mr. Tusker has been dealt this hand before. He fakes North long enough for us to get into a mess of cactus, then starts a running battle across the place headed for the South fence. 200 yds into the run Yule and Rip quit barking and soon the hog is stopped. Nothing like a little grabbing of manly parts to get his attention. We pick our way through the cactus and get within 150 yds only to hear the hog breaking and the battle continue. Jeff is trying like mad to make him go deaf with the use of those hound dog lungs, and Paco trying to make him crazy with his coyote yapping.
He stops again and this time we elect to give him a dose of Dogo. As soon as the leads come free he breaks. Will tries to stop the Dogos, but Flash and Wulf run him over as Star and Turk break around him. We are now running like crazy trying to keep up, about thirty seconds later the chase slows to a crawl. The Dogos have quit yipping and we know they have caught, but Mr. Tusker has other ideas. He’s 200 yds from the fence and he decides on a plan. He turns towards a tank with dogs in tow (I feel it’s only fair to the Dogos to repeat this is only their fourth catch, and how many pits would run down a hog). He hits the water and begins to lose a dog everytime he goes under. Calvin has moved to a blocking position and is shooting into the trees trying to turn the hog back North. The ploy works and the hog turns toward the North shore. As he gets out of the water one Dogo is still attached, the other three descend on him like a wave of white death. He is rolled backwards into the tank. Will catches a hind leg and soon the hog is under control. Not the monster we hoped but a good hog. Tie ropes come out and soon he is ready to leave. Alive and well he is placed in the horse trailer.
The next morning we hauled the hog to Southern Wild Game, he weighed 286 lbs and brought $177. With a few hogs like that the dogs pay for themselves. From the first of the month we have sold two hogs and together they brought in $292. It costs us about $100 per month to feed the dogs. Now, that gives a fella a reason to own a few dogs.