Iffin you miss, I won't

[bomelia]

Here is a true story from my past. Someone made me think about it today...

Way back in the day, a friend talked me into hunting wild boar in Athens, Tenn. The area reminds me of Barkley, just not as well developed. Lots of steep hills. Everyone gets a guide on this hunt, mine was a guy who was as skinny as his bones would let him be with a great big smile exposing the only two teeth he still owned (and those two had lost their color long ago). His name was Buggs. Buggs could chug up and down them hills faster than me all the while keeping a lit cigarette in his mouth. I, on the other hand quickly grew nauseous trying to keep up with him, and keep up you had to do if you ever hoped of getting a pig and getting out alive. Finally, Buggs spots a pig. Nasty thing with a black band going around its stomach area like a large belt. Two HUGE curly tusks rising out of the bottom jaw. The pig was from then on known as the Belted Hog. Did I mention I was hunting with a bow and arrow? You MUST get within 15 yards before you shoot. You don't want to nick one (or startle it with a miss) and simply piss it off. So, that's what we did. Snuck up to within 15 yards. I nocked an arrow, adjusted my line of sight through the 15 yard pin, drew back, and waited for Buggs' OK (you can hold this position for quite a while since modern bows have these cams on them that reduce the loading in your arms while still maintaining 90 pounds on the string!) That's when I heard it. Click. Buggs was just behind me and off to the right. I slowly turned around and looked at him. He was aiming a loaded and cocked 9 mm Glock right at the pig, cigarette pinned between one of his two teethand the bottom gum. I asked him what the hell was he doing? He said,
in only a way someone from East Tennessee could say "Iffin you miss, I won't. Don't miss, ya hear?" Stunned, I turned back to the pig, leveled my aim, breathed in, released the air and carefully let go of the arrow. Shwooooomp! "Goddammit! You just grazed the sum*****" yelled Buggs. "Run!!!!" Not sure why he did not shoot the pig, we just ran, pig in hot pursuit. And ran and ran. Finally, we got to a safe place. After catching my breath, I began to go over what had gone wrong. The arrow most definitely flew high relative to my sights, I could see that when the arrow left the bow. But why? I looked closely at my broad heads. There on the side was the answer. 110 gram broad heads. I always used 125 gram heads. The guy who fitted them for me made a mistake. Lighter heads do not drop as fast as heavier ones do, and my sights were trained with 125s.

I finally got that pig (had to aim lower) and still have the tusks to prove it. I have never gone back either. Running is good enough for me these days. But I swear, you can hit a wild pig with a iron skillet all day long, and it will do you no good. I have never hunted something that was so aggressive and hell bent on killing me as a wild boar. Best to avoid them and hope like hell there are no baby pigs around. Perhaps RGOT is applicable here?

Mike