PALM BAY, FLORIDA - This is the story of the three little pigs.
Only
 one was little, though. She was the second Florida wild hog of the day I
 shot just before Christmas. Mottled brown and white, the pig came 
strolling toward the feeder while the pay--for-hire guide Matt Cates 
and I were wrapping things up.
Yep,
 right there in amongst us, not more than few paces away, oblivious to 
us and equally unconcerned with the jet-black medium-size Florida hog 
laying prostate at the edge of where the electronic feeder pitches the 
corn. That dead sow of a hog - and I think the smaller mottled-colored 
pig now here - were part of a three-pig sounder that wasted no time in 
leaving the confines of a thick palmetto forest for the more open field 
where they were assured a breakfast of corn kernels.
I
 had settled in the new blind; a curiously ingenious affair. Made from 
eight-foot sections of wooden privacy fence, the blind was a perfect 
square with shooting portholes made by cutting two of the fence "sticks"
 from the section's middle support crossbeam to the section's upper 
cross member.
The sections were anchored by four-by-four posts cemented 
into the ground. For a roof Matt had laid sections of corrugated sheet 
metal.
Such
 a blind wouldn't stand up to a Florida hurricane, of course, but then 
again, nothing short of a cinder-block building can bluff its way past 
75-plus miles-per-hour winds
Anyway,
 the blind was plenty comfortable enough and with it containing not one -
 but two - camp folding chairs plus a small plastic chair/table I had 
all the fixtures I needed to spread out my hog-hunting truck.
And that's
 a lot, as it is for virtually all forms of hunting and fishing that I 
do. It all goes back to the old saying "better to have something and not
 need it than to need it and not have it." So I usually fill up a 
backpack with all sorts of hunting-related paraphernalia and such 
materiel as I believe would be necessary.
Including
 20 rounds of .45-70 Springfield ammunition, equally divided between 
Hornady LeverRevolution and Remington's stock Core-Lockt.
When
 I didn't shoot a deer during Ohio's recently concluded  firearms 
deer-hunting season with my newly acquired H&R Buffalo Classic rifle
 I figured it would prove bad medicine on Florida's amply healthy wild 
hog population.
Yeah,
 a .45-70 is overkill for a species that seldom exceeds 150 pounds in 
the wild. Though if you read much in today's sporting journals you'd get
 the impression that your best bet is to hunt hogs with a howitzer with a
 .500 Smith and Wesson as a backup.
That kind of talk is little more 
than sales pitches made by outdoors writers who've either not hunted 
Florida wild pigs much or else were writing after they had gone on a 
sponsored hog hunt somewhere.
Truth
 be told, wild hogs (while still more than capable of ripping a nasty 
gouge in your leg) can be sent to the processor by utilizing cartridges 
and gauges suitable for game from coyotes-woodchucks to average-size 
deer. Or the kind of gun stuff that likely already occupies space in 
your gun cabinet.
Last
 time I was down here my father-in-law knocked off two hogs with nothing
 more than a venerable .25-20 Winchester. I've even killed hogs a smart 
distance with a semi-automatic pistil chambered for the .9mm Luger, 
though I think under the circumstances it would have been smarter had I 
employed something with a little more "umpf." Which is why I pack a 
version of a Model 1911 pistol in a shoulder holster and fed with the 
same load I use for home protection.
Truth
 Be Told Number II is my humble opinion that after hunting Florida wild 
hogs for gosh-I-can't-remember-how-long-now my belief is that the best 
hog killer is a rifled-barreled shotgun fitted with a low-powered scope 
(or ever open sights) and armed with the same stuff used to tank Ohio 
deer in early December.
Okay,
 we've gotten sort off track, I realize and for which I apologize. Just 
wanted you to understand the set-up and get the picture as painted by 
someone not beholding to a firearms or ammo company.
Anyway,
 the game feeder went off as expected a few minutes before 7 a.m. I 
guess maybe three or four minutes later the three-pig sounder came 
running out of the brush, their squiggly tails about as high as they 
could climb into the warm Florida morning.
I
 knew one of the pigs would be roasted by the .45-70, though I wasn't 
sure which one. You see the trio mostly wadded into a bunch so compact I
 couldn't tell heads from tails.
Only
 when the three hogs separated could I better gauge their size. That was
 when I discerned the medium-sized pig would be the first to go. The 
Remington Corelockt bullet neatly broke the pig's spine and the animal 
fell flat on its side and dead as a dead pig that just got whomped by an
 oversize hunk of lead can be.
The remaining two pigs returned to the sanctuary of the palmetto forest.
Since
 the whole affair took only a few minutes and I still had two hours 
before Matt was scheduled to pick me up, I sat and enjoyed the company 
of the morning. Hoping, of course, that another pig - at least equal in 
size and equal in hunger as the now-deceased sow 15 yards in front of me
 laid - would show up.
I
 heard the almost prehistoric calls of sandhill cranes, the "woosh" of a
 breeze that happily curled around the blind's slits-for-windows and the
 steady rap-tap of rain drops dropping from a quickly passing rain 
shower. None of which, by the way, disturb me to the point where a 45-minute morning nap would become unhinged.
For
 guests I saw a whole laundry list of song birds, several species of 
which were winter-time visitors to the Floridian savanna, having passed 
by one of my Ohio deer-hunting blinds only a few weeks earlier.
Anyway, the two hours were up and Matt came to fetch me and the black-colored sow wild hog.
That's
 when the little one trotted out, totally unconcerned about our presence
 and caring even less that a dead relation lay a few feet away.
I armed the .45-70 and shot this second hog, to make a long story story. But the act still grates on me.
If
 I had to do it all over again, I would not have taken that little 
piggy. Nope, I'd have walked in, shooed it away and let it sequel in 
disgust at how it had been denied a meal.
Yeah,
 I know it was a female and in a few months it would have been old 
enough to breed, producing more offspring that would go on to damage the
 farm's cattle-grazing pasture and all. I also know that of the three 
Florida wild hogs I shot those couple days before Christmas 2014 this smallest one would "eat the best," as Matt had said.
Likewise
 I know that what Matt and I witnessed was something we'll almost 
certainly never encounter again. That being, a wild hog of any size 
totally unafraid and absolutely determined to make the best of a free 
meal of corn just steps away from its executioner.
So I took a dumb one out of the gene pool, I get that, I really do. Still...
Oh,
 that's right, I almost forgot to let you in on the third harvested 
Florida wild hog. Not much really to say about this animal other than 
(again) to add that a whole bunch of what you see and read about hunting
 wild hogs is only so much hooey.
Matt
 and I reversed course, backing out on the sandy farming track screwed 
out of the palmettos. Up ahead yonder in some row of sedges fed a big 
black-bristly-haired brute of a wild hog. This animal's stern was to our
 bow so I had to wait as best I could for as best a shot I could make 
with the H&R. The rather heavy and long-barreled rifle was steadied 
on a tall and adjustable bipod as I waited for the right opportunity. 
When
 the opportunity half-came I fired, the bullet cleaving a slice of hog 
ham with the animal humanely finished off at arm's length by what spews 
out of a Model 1911's considerable mouth.
This
 hog was much bigger than the other two, even combined. Matt estimated 
it weight at 160 to 170 pounds. Certainly not rare for a boar wild hog 
but still rather unusual for a sow. Which no doubt, had birthed more 
than a few litters of little piggies. 
Maybe even the small one that I 
shot but maybe shouldn't have.
Anyway, that's the end of the story of the three little pigs, only one of which was actually little.Next
 time I visit Florida to hunt hogs - perhaps as early as sometime this 
spring if I can coax some hunting buddies to join me and share the 
trip's expenses - I'm going to use my crossbow. Or maybe take one with a
 muzzle-loading rifle since I haven't done that before either.
But what I also will say is this: I think if push comes to shove and I have a little guy or gal piggy come out of some palmetto thicket
 I'll take a pass on the critter. In this case I really don't care how 
destructive wild hogs of any size can be nor how many (potential) other wild swine the sow will produce or the boar sires. Either way, the critter will get to live another day.
For
 information about hunting wild hogs (or alligators or turkeys or deer 
or exotic species) with Matt Cates and his Triple M Outfitters, 
contact him at 321-863-2985. I've always said that a Florida wild hog hunt is the country's least expensive big-game hunt. Presently, Matt charges $200 for the first hog and 
$100 for every subsequent hog; and you better plan on shooting at least 
two hogs.
Processing rates are also inexpensive when compared to what it
 takes to process a deer in Northeast Ohio.
- Jeffrey L. Frischkorn
JFrischk@Ameritech.net 
Jeff
 is the retired News-Herald reporter who  covered the earth sciences, 
the area's three county park systems and the outdoors for the newspaper.
 During his 30 years with The News-Herald Jeff was the recipient of more
 than 100 state, regional and national journalism awards. He also is a 
columnist and features writer for the Ohio Outdoor News, which is 
published every other week and details the outdoors happenings in the 
state.