Bringing right hand’s index finger to lips, Travis Benes cautioned “quiet” then pointed with his left hand in the direction of tall grass less than twenty yards distant.

I nodded, quietly set up my shooting sticks, rested my Ruger revolver pointing in the proper direction and waited.

From behind the screen of tall bluestem came loud guttural grunts, then a high-pitched squeal. The tops of the shoulder high grass swayed. I could not tell whether movement was coming toward us or retreating.

In that instant I flashed back to a similar situation in western Africa when my Professional Hunter, our trackers and I had almost stepped accidentally on a bedded western savannah buffalo. There too, the grass had been tall and hiding. The old bull jumped up, then stood momentarily evaluating whether to charge the source of the disturbance or depart. I do not remember taking a breath for seemingly an eternity, my .375 Ruger pointed where I suspected the buffalo stood. Finally, we heard a rustle then saw grass move indicating the buffalo was quietly slipping away to fight another day.

Hunting wild hogs at the Choctaw Hunting Lodge in Oklahoma, wildlife/hunt manager Travis Benes and I had been slowly walking a remote two-track road on the 40,000-acre property. We were passing between two Tecomate planted food plots when Travis spotted a sow followed by a big black boar. They crossed the road in front of us and entered the protection of the tall clump of bluestem grass. At the time I had been inspecting the tracks of a sizeable black bear and had missed the duo.

Weishuhn makes certain his Ruger .44 Mag, Trijicon RMR topped revolver is shooting Hornady’s 240-grain XTP are on target. Photos Credit – Justin Wegner/HPG Media

Travis motioned me to follow him. I did, shooting sticks in left hand, Ruger .44 Mag Super Blackhawk topped with a Trijicon RMR sight and loaded with Hornady’s excellent 240-grain XTP loads in my right hand.

Ready and waiting…more grunts and squeals! I cocked the single-action’s hammer, red dot on where I thought the two would appear if they came our direction. Over the top of the barrel I saw grass move. It hinted something was coming toward us, but then turned, moving away. Just then I felt the slight breeze which had been in our face turn one hundred eighty degrees, now coming from our back.

I looked at Travis, who was shrugging his shoulders, like me listening to the sounds of quickly departing hogs. “Sorry wind!” said he. I nodded in agreement. With the change in wind direction which would blow our scent directly toward the next food plot, we headed back toward our vehicle to return to camp for breakfast and to formulate another plan.

“I am continually amazed by wild hogs,” Travis said. “They have a better sense of smell than even the wiliest of mature whitetail bucks. Good thing for those who like to hunt hogs, here on the Choctaw Hunting Lodge because we seem to have an unlimited number of them and a substantial area to pursue them.

“And, we have them in all sizes from monstrous, long-tusked boars to perfect eating size shoats. Our hunters can take whatever they prefer and do so throughout the year.”

He continued, “Hogs make for a great hunt as well as a perfect add-on to deer or turkey hunts, and for that matter a fishing excursion.”

I agreed. The morning before I had taken a nicely racked and tasty mature whitetail buck with my Ruger rifle for our “DSC’s Trailing the Hunter’s Moon” television show which appears weekly on the Pursuit Channel. (My Choctaw deer hunt episode will air during the second half of 2019.) With cape in the salt and delicious venison aging in the Lodge’s cooler I had a couple of days of my scheduled whitetail hunt remaining. Hunting hogs seemed the perfect way to finish my hunt.

Over a most delicious lunch, Travis said, “I’ve got some work I want to get done here around the lodge this afternoon. How about I drop you off on the other side of the food plot where we were headed this morning. Then you can slowly hunt your way back toward the front gate. That should keep the wind in your face and the sun at your back. I’ll come get you if you shoot one, just call me, or you can call me just before you get to the gate. I got a feeling you’ll see a bunch of hogs this afternoon.” Sounded like an excellent plan.

A couple of hours later, Travis dropped Justin Wegner, my cameraman, and me about a half mile from the farthermost west food plot. “I’d just slowly follow the road and watch either side,” he said in a hushed voice. “Walking the road will be the quietest way. Good luck. Call me when you shoot!” I liked Travis’s confidence!

The whitetail rut was in the waning stage, but we had hardly walked two hundred yards when a whitetail doe, tail held at half-mast ran across the road. Five bucks followed, younger and smaller antlered first, followed by increasingly older and much bigger antlered bucks. The fifth easily scored in the high 160’s.

We continued on and were almost in sight of the food plot when I heard, then saw a spotted, black and white sow crossing the road. She was followed by four black sows all with pigs ranging in size from newborn to shoats weighing about forty pounds. I froze while they crossed our path, fifty yards distant. Once they were across the two track I moved forward to cut the distance and to get a better look. I hoped to shoot the first sow to cross the road. She was fat and without pigs.

I had taken eight steps when another black hog walked across the narrow path through the mixture of pines, oaks, underbrush and native grasses. It was a boar weighing approximately eighty pounds – an ideal eating-sized hog. He stopped on the edge of the brush and stopped. I quickly set up shooting sticks, rested my revolver, cocked the hammer and placed the Trijicon’s red dot on the hog. Problem was…his shoulder was hidden by tall grass.

“Urrrrrrkkk!” I deeply grunted hoping the boar would turn around out of curiosity and expose his vitals. He did! I gently pulled the trigger. The boar started to take a step, but fell. I again cocked the hammer, sights on the hog but he did not again move.

After photos I called Travis.

That night, with pork properly taken care of for my trip back to Texas, I asked Travis, “Did I hear you tell someone who’d called about fishing at Choctaw y’all have some true hawg-sized bass?” His smile told me what I would be doing the morrow!

Like the hunting and fishing classics Derrydale published in the 1930s, this cookbook has only improved with time. This is a no-nonsense, practical guide to cooking virtually every kind of wild game with everything from simple recipes to gourmet level preparation.