Randy Watson
New member
I couldn't get it to go to you Robert, I'll paste it here..it's pretty long, but here it goes...
Pig Sticker
I had been helping a good friend of mine guide some customers on a few hunts west of Leakey , Texas, mainly because I liked the guy and also because I loved being around this kind of stuff. It was a game ranch, but a good fair chase ranch that had lots of room and lots of cover. After a few hunts, my buddy told me “ you need to let me pay you, or come down and kill a Fallow, or an Axis, or something to repay you for helping me”. I told him I needed no pay, that it was my pleasure. He insisted that I take something, and suggested a Feral Hog. I told him I had taken many pigs with a rifle, and was not interested, to which he said, how ‘bout a Bow?? I reminded him of the several pigs I had taken with a bow, and then a really dumb thought came into my head. For some goofy reason, I said, “ I guess I could kill one with a knife??” at which he grinned, shrugged his shoulders and said, “okay”.
It was a couple of weeks before he had another hunt scheduled and when he called and gave me the dates, I said, “I’ll be there”. Quite frankly, I had all but forgotten about the pig thing.
I arrived mid-morning and was greeted by several hunters, some whom I had met and a few I had not. As I introduced myself to one, he said with a sneaky looking grin, “ oh, you’re the one that’s gonna’ kill the hog with a knife huh?” I guess that was when I figured out that I was in for a new experience. I have a couple of crazy friends that have killed hogs with a knife, but this was a bit different. You see, down in south Texas, they catch them with dogs. Then the dogs, three or four of them, hold the pig still while a man goes in with a long knife and cuts their throat. No problem, right??
There was a lot of talk around the campfire that night of my lack of brains and the size of my knife, in fact one guy asked, “ let’s see that big ol’ pig sticker you’re gonna’ use”. I slid over to the truck and got out my knife and when I showed the guys the four and a half inch blade on the cold steel knife I had, they started to laugh. This did not do too much for my confidence, and as I dosed off to sleep that night, I tried to remember what the Bible had said about God taking care of children and idiots, or something like that, and reminded him that I just might fit in to one of those categories.
Morning came quickly, as I got up to help with breakfast; the guys were talking about not going hunting this morning in lieu of catching the morning hog fight. It looked a bit like a commando raid as we loaded three trucks full of big eyed spectators and a cameraman to record the whole thing in case I didn’t make it, they’d have proof that I was in full agreement, although at the time I was the only one that was not sure I was. We arrived at the ranchers’ house and he had already loaded the trailing dogs and ol’ red, a beat up and cut up old kerr- mastive cross that looked like he was mad at the world. After about a thirty minute hunt, the dogs got after a big ol’ spotted feral, that the rancher remembered as a “mean old son of a bitch, that kicked the hell out of his dogs a few times”. They trailed him for a bit and then the pig got to a fence, where he decided to turn and fight. We were only minutes behind, but in that time, the hog had already cut up two dogs and was slicing at the third. The dogs looked at us like “where the hell have ya’ll been?” The rancher unloaded ol’ Red, looked at me and said, “ you ever done this before?” to which I quickly replied, “no, have you?” “Where’s the rest of your catch dogs?” I asked sheepishly. “He replied, hell son, this is it” We both had a confused look on our face as he said, “this dog’s pretty tough, but he can’t stay in there too long, so you need to get in there and try to cut his throat I guess”. “You guess??” I questioned, and he said, “Hell I don’t know, just follow this dog in there and don’t let that mean sob hurt my dog”.
So there I was, following a dog to a pig fight, with nothing more than a toothpick sized knife in one hand a huge lump in my throat. I saw the dog look back at me as if to say, “what are you gonna’ do with that?” The second the dog got into range, the hog started slashing at him with the three and a half inch razors he had in his mouth. The dog was able to grab an ear and then it got just a bit western. I saw blood flying as I grabbed the pig by the bristly hair on his back; I knew I had to protect that dog, yeah right. I had just entered the point of no return as I started to assault this ticked off porker by jabbing wildly over his back into his chest on the other side. The pig started trying to run me down in a circle, slashing at me a few times, then at the dog a couple of times, as we all spun ourselves into a cloud of dust. I stabbed furiously as the dog started to lose his grip, and just about the time he was slipping away, the hog stopped. I think the dog and I had the same thought…let’s get the heck out of here. As I looked at the dog, he looked at me thinking, what is wrong with you? I watched the pig stumble a couple of seconds as he fell lifelessly to the ground.
Ol’ Red had a couple of cuts, as did I, but the pig was dead. I was covered in blood, mostly the pigs, as I looked at my knife I noticed it had buried to the hilt several times. Turning to the anta rage of onlookers, who started out on the ground, I noticed that all of them were in the backs of the trucks. The rancher looked at me and said “ I ain’t never seen nothing like that in my life”. I said, “me neither”. Then I finally got to say something that I used to hear my Dad say, but this time it had a new meaning, as I wiped my knife on my pants, I took a deep breath , smiled and said “he was bleeding like a stuck hog!”
My cameraman, along with everyone else, was climbing down out of the truck. I told him, “Well let’s see it”. He downed his head and replied, “ I was runnin’, and by the time I got to the truck, it was over”. We butchered the pig, and when we inspected the carcass, there were seven cuts in a three-inch area, right in his heart.
Red healed up, and so did I, but I will never forget the rush I felt as ol’ red and me got to the pig. It was a once in a lifetime experience that will probably be enough for this lifetime. I will guide for my buddy again, but I think from now on, I’ll just take the cash.
Pig Sticker
I had been helping a good friend of mine guide some customers on a few hunts west of Leakey , Texas, mainly because I liked the guy and also because I loved being around this kind of stuff. It was a game ranch, but a good fair chase ranch that had lots of room and lots of cover. After a few hunts, my buddy told me “ you need to let me pay you, or come down and kill a Fallow, or an Axis, or something to repay you for helping me”. I told him I needed no pay, that it was my pleasure. He insisted that I take something, and suggested a Feral Hog. I told him I had taken many pigs with a rifle, and was not interested, to which he said, how ‘bout a Bow?? I reminded him of the several pigs I had taken with a bow, and then a really dumb thought came into my head. For some goofy reason, I said, “ I guess I could kill one with a knife??” at which he grinned, shrugged his shoulders and said, “okay”.
It was a couple of weeks before he had another hunt scheduled and when he called and gave me the dates, I said, “I’ll be there”. Quite frankly, I had all but forgotten about the pig thing.
I arrived mid-morning and was greeted by several hunters, some whom I had met and a few I had not. As I introduced myself to one, he said with a sneaky looking grin, “ oh, you’re the one that’s gonna’ kill the hog with a knife huh?” I guess that was when I figured out that I was in for a new experience. I have a couple of crazy friends that have killed hogs with a knife, but this was a bit different. You see, down in south Texas, they catch them with dogs. Then the dogs, three or four of them, hold the pig still while a man goes in with a long knife and cuts their throat. No problem, right??
There was a lot of talk around the campfire that night of my lack of brains and the size of my knife, in fact one guy asked, “ let’s see that big ol’ pig sticker you’re gonna’ use”. I slid over to the truck and got out my knife and when I showed the guys the four and a half inch blade on the cold steel knife I had, they started to laugh. This did not do too much for my confidence, and as I dosed off to sleep that night, I tried to remember what the Bible had said about God taking care of children and idiots, or something like that, and reminded him that I just might fit in to one of those categories.
Morning came quickly, as I got up to help with breakfast; the guys were talking about not going hunting this morning in lieu of catching the morning hog fight. It looked a bit like a commando raid as we loaded three trucks full of big eyed spectators and a cameraman to record the whole thing in case I didn’t make it, they’d have proof that I was in full agreement, although at the time I was the only one that was not sure I was. We arrived at the ranchers’ house and he had already loaded the trailing dogs and ol’ red, a beat up and cut up old kerr- mastive cross that looked like he was mad at the world. After about a thirty minute hunt, the dogs got after a big ol’ spotted feral, that the rancher remembered as a “mean old son of a bitch, that kicked the hell out of his dogs a few times”. They trailed him for a bit and then the pig got to a fence, where he decided to turn and fight. We were only minutes behind, but in that time, the hog had already cut up two dogs and was slicing at the third. The dogs looked at us like “where the hell have ya’ll been?” The rancher unloaded ol’ Red, looked at me and said, “ you ever done this before?” to which I quickly replied, “no, have you?” “Where’s the rest of your catch dogs?” I asked sheepishly. “He replied, hell son, this is it” We both had a confused look on our face as he said, “this dog’s pretty tough, but he can’t stay in there too long, so you need to get in there and try to cut his throat I guess”. “You guess??” I questioned, and he said, “Hell I don’t know, just follow this dog in there and don’t let that mean sob hurt my dog”.
So there I was, following a dog to a pig fight, with nothing more than a toothpick sized knife in one hand a huge lump in my throat. I saw the dog look back at me as if to say, “what are you gonna’ do with that?” The second the dog got into range, the hog started slashing at him with the three and a half inch razors he had in his mouth. The dog was able to grab an ear and then it got just a bit western. I saw blood flying as I grabbed the pig by the bristly hair on his back; I knew I had to protect that dog, yeah right. I had just entered the point of no return as I started to assault this ticked off porker by jabbing wildly over his back into his chest on the other side. The pig started trying to run me down in a circle, slashing at me a few times, then at the dog a couple of times, as we all spun ourselves into a cloud of dust. I stabbed furiously as the dog started to lose his grip, and just about the time he was slipping away, the hog stopped. I think the dog and I had the same thought…let’s get the heck out of here. As I looked at the dog, he looked at me thinking, what is wrong with you? I watched the pig stumble a couple of seconds as he fell lifelessly to the ground.
Ol’ Red had a couple of cuts, as did I, but the pig was dead. I was covered in blood, mostly the pigs, as I looked at my knife I noticed it had buried to the hilt several times. Turning to the anta rage of onlookers, who started out on the ground, I noticed that all of them were in the backs of the trucks. The rancher looked at me and said “ I ain’t never seen nothing like that in my life”. I said, “me neither”. Then I finally got to say something that I used to hear my Dad say, but this time it had a new meaning, as I wiped my knife on my pants, I took a deep breath , smiled and said “he was bleeding like a stuck hog!”
My cameraman, along with everyone else, was climbing down out of the truck. I told him, “Well let’s see it”. He downed his head and replied, “ I was runnin’, and by the time I got to the truck, it was over”. We butchered the pig, and when we inspected the carcass, there were seven cuts in a three-inch area, right in his heart.
Red healed up, and so did I, but I will never forget the rush I felt as ol’ red and me got to the pig. It was a once in a lifetime experience that will probably be enough for this lifetime. I will guide for my buddy again, but I think from now on, I’ll just take the cash.
