Wiwille goes hunting, ends as you would expect

I've been hunting before with results that were less than stellar. When I say less than stellar I mean I failed worse than Yahoo Serious' film career. I've never succeed at killing an animal, and maybe that's a good thing. I've never enjoyed deer, because it's not good. Spare me the whole "you just haven't had deer prepared or cooked properly." Yes I have what many have called properly prepared and cooked deer meat, and it's not good. No matter how many times you tell yourself it's tasty, it's not.

So a few weeks ago the family packed up and headed to Tyler Texas to visit some relatives on a spot of land they own which is about the size of Delaware. After some touring of the property, eating of a fine lunch, feeding cows, and shooting firearms, it was decided that some of us were off to hunt feral hogs.

Yes feral hogs. Currently estimated to be over 2 million in population in the state of Texas, the swine is considered a nuisance animal as it breeds rapidly and destroys livestock, farmland, various structures such as fences, and humans. The state of Texas is dedicated to reducing the population of the pigs to a reasonable level that they pretty much will allow anyone to kill the miserable creatures. You can even hunt them without a license, so long as you have permission from the land's owner, which we obviously had. You can use pretty much any weapon you choose, from knife to any legally purchased and owned firearm. Some farmers and ranchers will even pay you to roam their property and bid good riddance to the animals, and thus a cottage industry was born.

So my brother in-law handed me an Bushmaster AR-15 (yes the very same model used in the Sandy Hook tragedy) and told me that would be the weapon I would use should we come across any hogs. He loaded up a .45 caliber piston, and he and his young cousin piled in the back of a sport utility vehicle with me, similar to that pictured below:

Because nothing says getting closer to nature than being escorted around in an internal combustion vehicle.

 

The youngest didn't pack heat as she was just more curious about the affair. Her uncle loaded up his firearm and sat in the passenger seat while Al, the relative we were visiting, drove us into what seemed miles from civilization. We kept our eyes fixed on the wilderness before us, ready to take aim and fire upon creatures that wouldn't hesitate to feast upon human genitalia.

 

We saw some deer, which weren't worth shooting, but it was cool seeing those majestic creatures do deery things, such as run, jump, and repeat the process over and over again. We saw ducks and all kinds of fowl take flight onto the horizon, and we saw huge tracts of land. What we didn't see is a single hog. I never even took aim with my rifle at any point, which I guess is just as well. I'm not that good of a shot, so I can't speak with 100% confidence that I could hit a charging hog, but I can say that I would of, because I'm awesome and have many moments of awesomeness.

 

So again, I have failed to do the one task asked of someone hunting. There was no bacon for us that day, which is really depressing when you think about.

 

"I learned long ago, never to wrestle with a pig. You get dirty, and besides, the pig likes it." - George Bernard Shaw