Wild Boar Hog Hunting

Wild Boar Hunting started as direct descendant of the Domestic Pig began living in the wild. The Domestic Pig will quite readily become Feral. Wild boars can reach weights of over 400 lbs. and have been found over six feet long. The Feral or Wild Hog develops certain physical characteristics that distinguish it from its domestic cousins. The Wild Boar will develop a thicker coat and many have a hairline along its spine, hence the term "Razorback" in the Southern United States. Groups of Wild Boar are called Sounders and will occasionally have up to 50 Hogs in it. The Sows give birth (Farrowing) in the Spring and a litter will have anywhere from five to thirteen Piglets in it. Wild Hogs are known to eat almost anything they come across including acorns, berries, roots, tubers, insects, small reptiles and even small deer and lambs. Wild Hog Hunting has gained tremendous popularity across the United States as Wild Boar populations have mushroomed. The majority of Wild Hog Hunting is done using dogs with the black mouthed cur dogs being one of the most popular breeds. Wild Hog Hunting is done using a variety of weapons to dispatch the Hog. Rifles, bow and arrows, pistols, spears and even knives are often used to harvest the Wild Boar after the dogs have him bayed. Hog Hunting has gotten so popular that there is now a scoring system to determine what makes a true "Trophy Hog". The system utilizes body weight and length of the bottom tusk. Some states have more Hogs than others and the Hog Hunting popularity in these states is understandably greater. Texas Hog Hunting, Florida Hog Hunting, Oklahoma Hog Hunting and Georgia Hog Hunting are favored by sports men across the land. The sport of Texas Hog Hunting has never been more popular than it is today. The thrill of the chase and the excitement of walking in on a pack of crazed dogs with a big Boar bayed is not something you will soon forget. Words of caution though; Hog Hunting and Wild Boar Hunting can be dangerous. Wild Boar and Hogs possess self sharpening tusks and they know how to use them.

Boar Hunting

Probably one of the most exciting animals to hunt are feral pigs. Chasing a big boar through dense scrub can really get the adrenaline running. However, it all isn't just fun and games. Feral pigs are dangerous and they do an immense amount of environmental damage. They kill both native and domestic animals; they wallow in and erode water holes and they are always digging and rooting around in the soil for food they can find.

Pigs are also a big problem to livestock farmers. They carry diseases, and can pass them on to the livestock. Be careful that you check your pig thoroughly before eating any part of it. If you find and worms in it, or if the pig just doesn't look healthy, then don't eat it! It is better to be safe. The rewards of successful hunt are a freezer full of pork, usually a good set of tusks to mount, and of course the satisfaction of knowing that you are helping rid our environment of these huge pests.

Domestic pigs were introduced to America by the first settlers. Pigs were used for food and were often allowed to roam free. In the early centuries, settlers often kept them unpinned and because the pig is an intelligent, adaptable animal. It quickly established itself in the wild where they came to be a serious pest. They eat and damage crops, damage fences. And will kill animals as large as a sheep. But the greatest threat feral pigs pose to agriculture is their potential to carry diseases likes foot and mouth disease and triginosis. The largest populations live in the Appalachians and in the South, where ever they can find food and cover and always where there is good water supply.

They breed throughout the year under favorable conditions usually producing two litters a year, with an average of six piglets in each litter. There can be high mortality among piglets depending on food supplies and weather conditions. Sows will aggressively protect their young and are quite dangerous of they believe there is any threat. Piglets mature quickly and become sexually mature when they are about six months old.

Feral pigs are omnivore, which means that they will eat both plant material and animals. Grass makes up the bulk of their diet where available. Feral pigs will also eat fruit, roots, beetles, young rabbits and other small animals as well as scavenge on carrion.

The choice of rifle when hunting pigs depends mainly on the terrain that you expect to be encountering the pigs in, and the range that you expect to be shooting at. The rifle should be a center fire. The caliber of the gun depends on the size of pigs that you expect to encounter, and the range that you expect your shots to be taken within. A 30 caliber Winchester or a .44 Magnum are good for close range work in dense scrub and terrain where shots would not exceed more than 150 yards. Such rifles as the Remington 7600 pump action, and the side by side Chapeus rifles are also excellent because of there compactness and their quick shots. But the main advantage is that they are made in large rifle calibers. This makes them effective at close range, and extends their effective range markedly. Their only drawback is their relatively high prices (about $1,000 for the Remington, and about $5,500 for the Chapuis).

Hunting out in the open is a different story. Here you need higher velocity lighter projectiles, .30-06 or a 7.6mm cartridge. The increased velocity and lighter aerodynamic projectiles ensure accuracy and velocity are conserved right out to your target range.

A bolt action is best a t longer range. Use a rifle that is light enough to carry in the field and that is also heavy enough to absorb the recoil of a larger cartridge. Once again, this is a matter of how far you expect to be carrying your rifle for; and ultimately it comes down to a matter of personal choice.

Shotguns are also used to hunt pig. The have the advantage of being able to shoot everything from quails, right through to pigs. Hunting pigs with shotguns is invariably done with a 12 Gauge, and takes on two forms: using shot and using slugs.

Using pellets for pig hunting is restricted to close quarters. They are the best weapon against pigs at close range. However they are ineffective at longer range. This is where the rifled slugs and sabot's come into their own. Being very heavy and made out of either solid lead or copper alloy, these slug pack one heck of a punch! The only pitfall is their accuracy, and using them in a smoothbore, accuracy can be very poor indeed. There are bolt action shotguns that have rifled barrels (Mossberg 695, Savage 210F, etc.), and these shotguns can group lead slugs and sabots quite well. I would not recommend a single shot because they take too long to reload.

Four Preparation Tips form Hunting Information:

The best hunters are planners. Do it scientifically and don't rely on your memory or instinct unless when you can have real data.

Scout your hunting area off season. Make a map showing deer sightings and signs.

Record your sightings and signs separately, if possible on a topographical map. Look for patterns of movement. Try to track migration by time. This will help you know where to set up our stand during hunting season.

Put Lanocaine or Solarcaine in your hunting kit. They are marvelous for poison ivy and mosquito bite itches. Since odors are acid, use baking soda to neutralize your own and other odors.

Information on hog hunting

Rifle and Hound

The Rifle & the Hound in Ceylon

Let’s go hunting beside a giant man, with a huge knife – and the world’s most powerful rifle. [Words in brackets are the author’s.]

A cloud of smoke hung over me for a second, and, throwing my empty gun on one side, I put my hand behind me for a spare gun. I felt the welcome barrel pushed into my hand, at the same moment I saw the infuriated head of the elephant with ears cocked charging through the smoke. It was the work of an instant. I had just time to cock the twoounce rifle and take steady aim. The next moment we were in a cloud of smoke, but as I fired I felt certain of her. The smoke cleared from the thick bushes and she lay dead at six feet from the spot where I stood.

Sir Samuel Baker, Ceylon – 1854

The world has changed and not necessarily for the better. It is also fair to say that so too has hunting changed. Once upon a time, the hunting grounds of the world were untamed, almost untouched. There, a few sportsmen waged war with the great game animals in ways modern hunters would not recognize. These were grand men and glorious times, before the time of video or even realistic cameras. To “see” these wonders of our sport, we need books, old books. So, we are off on a great shikar to the land of Ceylon (Sri Lanka, today) in the 1850s. Off to hunt with one of the greatest hunters of all time, off to see if his “Devil Stopper” and knife can prevail.

We will not be disappointed because the pictures are not there. Samuel Baker was a master with words, painting pictures far more vivid than any video camera might capture. Combined with the old woodcuts, his words bring this world to life. And alive it was! He did not need to engage in fiction to make adventures. Hunting deer, elk and boars with a rifle was considered poor sport. He pursued these with a knife! When he employed a rifle, it was against the savage buffalo and rogue elephants.

To fully appreciate some of the hunting, we will set the stage. Sir Samuel Baker was almost a giant, surely was a giant in his day. The best I can decipher, he was well over six feet tall and approached 300 pounds. Further he would have had the build of a modern linebacker, with physical conditioning to match. Baker referred to rifles in a slightly different way than we do today. He described them in “ounces” which is not about the weight of the rifle but its bullets! Therefore, his 2-ounce rifle used a 2-ounce (875-grain) roundball. Also, where this book is concerned, all the rifles were percussion-cap muzzleloaders, even though Baker lived and hunted well into the breechloading era, where a double .577 became his all-around hunting rifle.

His deer and boar hunting go off the scale of anything we modern hunters might imagine. Few of us consider our deer hunts as life threatening, but most of Baker’s were! Let’s go along and see just how wild the pursuits became. We begin with an elk hunt, which in Ceylon was the sambur deer, an animal just smaller than a big bull wapiti. Baker says an average buck weighed about 600 pounds.

. . . Thus no person can thoroughly enjoy elk-hunting who is not well accustomed to it, as it is a sport conducted entirely on foot, in the thinness of the air in this elevated region is very trying to the lungs in hard exercise. Thoroughly sound in limb, with no superfluous flesh, must be the man who would follow the hounds in this wild country—through the jungles, rivers, plains and deep ravines, sometimes from sunrise to sunset without tasting food since the previous evening, with the exception of a cup of coffee and a piece of toast before starting. It is trying work, but it is a noble sport: no weapon but the hunting knife; no certainty as to the character of the game that may be found; it may be either an elk, or a boar, or a leopard, and yet the knife and the good hounds are all that can be trusted in.

If an elk is found, the hounds follow the burst as a straight line, and at a killing pace, directly up the hill, till at length he turns and bends his headlong course for some stronghold in a deep river to bay. . . . He tightens his belt by a hole, and steadily he starts at a long swinging trot, having made up his mind for a day of it. . . . At length he hears them!—was it the wind? No; there it is—it is old Smut’s voice—he is at bay! Yoick to him! He shouts till his lungs are well nigh cracked [Baker encouraged his dogs] and through thorns and jungles, bogs and ravines, he rushes towards the welcome sound. Thick tangled bushes armed with a thousand hooked thorns suddenly arrest his course; it is the thick fringe of the underwood that borders every forest;—the open plain is within a few yards of him. The hounds are in a mad chorus. . . . Nothing can stop him now—thorns, or clothes, or flesh, must go,—something must give way as he bursts through them and stands on the plain.

They are in a deep pool formed by the river as it sweeps around a rock. A buck! A noble fellow! Now he charges at the hounds and strikes the foremost beneath the water with his forefeet; up they come again to the surface,—they hear the masters well known shout,—they look around and see his welcome figure on a steep bank. Another moment, a tremendous splash, and he is among the hounds, and all are swimming towards their noble game. At them he comes with a fierce rush. Avoid him as best you can, ye hunters, man, and hounds!

Now he dashes down the fierce rapids and leaps the opposing rocks between which the torrent rushes at a frightening pace. The hounds are after him, the roaring water joins in the wild chorus. . . . And again the enraged buck turns to bay. He is a perfect picture: his nostrils are distended, his mane bristled up, his eyes flash, and he adds his loud bark of defiance to the din around him. The hounds cannot touch him. Now the huntsman’s part: he calls the staunchest seizers [dogs trained to get a hold] to his side, gives them a cheer on, and steps into the torrent, knife in hand. Quick as lightning the buck springs to the attack; but he has exposed himself, and at that moment the tall lurchers are upon his ears. The huntsman leaps upon one side and plunges the knife behind his shoulder.—Suddenly he falls,—he dies,—it is all over. The hounds are called off and carefully examined for wounds.

Whew! I need to catch my breath. And now do you wonder why I say we, as a race, have lost something? Why murdering a buck out of the pickup window is a very sad degeneration of mankind?

We move now from the sedate deer hunting to boars. You can get an idea of this by the way Sir Samuel begins. “The boar is a very dangerous adversary.” These, by the way are not suckling pigs. Another book, written by another hunter, speaks of horses being killed by these brutes!

Baker says of them, “They are wonderfully active and ferocious, and of immense power, constantly weighing over 4 cwt [400 pounds].”

We move now to one of the most violent conflicts in sport I have ever read. It is a bit sad and almost beyond comprehension of modern mortals. I suppose I can honestly say I am glad such things are past, but it becomes an interesting study in just how dedicated a hunter once was.

On the 16th October 1852, I started with a very short pack. Lucifer was left in the kennel lame; Lena was home with her pups; and several other dogs were sick. Smut and Bran were the only two seizers out that day, and, being short-handed, I determined to hunt the more green country at the foot of the Hackgalla mountain.

My brother and I had entered the jungle with the dogs, and before we had proceeded a hundred yards we heard a fierce bay, every dog having joined. . . . The next instant Bran came hobbling out of the jungle covered with blood, which streamed from a frightful gash in his hind quarters. There was no more doubt remaining as to the game at bay; it was an enormous boar.

Bran was completely hors de combat; and Smut, having lost nearly all his teeth, was of no use single-handed with such an enemy. . . . In vain I cheered them on. I heard no signs of his being seized, but the fierce barking of old Smut mingled with the savage grunts of the boar, and the occasional cry of a wounded dog, explained the hopeless nature of the contest. Smut came up to me from the fight, which was now not ten paces distant, but perfectly concealed in the thick bamboo underwood. The old dog was covered with blood, his back was bristled up, and his deep growl betokened his hopeless rage. Poor old dog! He had his deathwound. He seemed cut nearly in half; a wound fourteen inches in length. . . . His hind leg had the appearance of being nearly off, and he dragged it after him in its powerless state, and, with a fierce bark, he rushed upon three legs once more to the fight.

At length the boar broke his bay. There was no possibility of assisting the dogs, and he was cutting up the pack in detail. If Lucifer and Lena had been there we could have killed him, but without seizers we were helpless in such a jungle.

This lasted an hour, at the expiration of which we were able to call the dogs off. Old Smut had stuck to him to the last, in de- spite of his disabled state. The old dog, perfectly exhausted, crawled out of the jungle: he had received several additional wounds, including a severe gash in his throat. He fell in exhaustion, and we made a litter with two poles and a horsecloth to carry him home. . . . We were thoroughly beaten. It was the first time that we had ever been beaten off, and I trust it may be the last.

Poor old Smut lingered a few days and died. Thus closed his glorious career of sport and left a fame behind which will never be forgotten. His son, who is now twelve months old, is the facsimile of his sire, and often recalls the recollection of the old dog. I hope he may turn out as good. (He was killed four months afterwards by a buck elk).

As we read this, thoughts of animal cruelty surely surface. I confess I am not tough enough to subject my friends to such danger. Once, when I thought my Lab would drown herself in pursuit of a wingtipped mallard, I felt the deepest, helpless despair one can imagine. That episode turned out all right. However, it does bring to light the reason for living, for great hunting dogs. Unlike the degenerate showmongrels, real hunting dogs have a purpose that lives in their soul. My Kuchara lived to retrieve mallards; Smut was born, and died, to kill boars.

Before we leave the knife, there is one more episode that leads us into the realm of game Sir Samuel considered worthy of a rifle.

One animal, however, yet remains to be described, who surpasses all others in dogged ferocity when once aroused. [Go back a paragraph or two and ponder what an animal it must be for him to consider them fierce and dogged!!!] This is the “Buffalo.”

The haunts of this animal are the hottest parts of Ceylon. . . . He is the size of an ox, of immense bone and strength, very active, and his hide is almost free of hair, giving a disgusting appearance to his India-rubber-like skin. He carries his head in a peculiar manner, the horns thrown back, and his nose projecting on a level with his forehead, thus securing himself from a frontal shot in a fatal part. This renders him a dangerous enemy, as he will receive any number of balls from a small gun [things like .75 caliber] in the throat and chest without evincing the least symptom of distress. . . . Should he succeed in catching his antagonist his fury knows no bounds, and he gores his victim to death, trampling and kneeling upon him till he is satisfied that life is extinct.

Yes, this is the Asian water buffalo (Ceylon variety) so often disregarded by modern sportsmen in favor of the “noble” Cape buffalo. I can say from my experience that the Asian variety is more likely to fight and every bit as determined! Later, years after hunting Cape buffalo, Baker has this to say about his old Ceylon adversaries:

The charge of a buffalo is a very serious matter; many animals charge when infuriated, but they can generally be turned by the stunning effect of a rifle shot, even though they may not be mortally wounded; but a buffalo is a devil incarnate when it has once decided upon the offensive. Nothing will turn it; it must be actually stopped by death, [Soon we will see the “Devil Stopper.”*] sudden and instantaneous, as nothing else will stop it.

If not killed, it will assuredly destroy its adversary. There is no creature in existence that is so determined to stamp out the life of its opponents, and the intensity of the fury is unsurpassed when a wounded bull buffalo rushes forward upon the last desperate charge.

We move now to the memorable hunt – knife and all!

As we drew nearer, the buffalo faced us, and tore up the turf with its horns, at the same time looking down the perpendicular bank, as though questioning the possibility of descent. We now arrived at the creek; there could not have been a more favourable position for Dick’s little rifle with a double charge (about three drams). There was no danger, as the vertical bank, upon which the angry bull was standing in a menacing attitude, was at least 12 feet high, therefore it was impossible for the animal to cross over. I told Dick to be ready and to take aim at the back of the neck should the buffalo lower its head. To effect this, I threw a hard clod of earth across the creek; this splashed loudly in the water immediately beneath the buffalo’s position. It looked down and exposed its neck; at the exact moment Dick fired. The bull turned round convulsively, and fell upon its side. “Well done Dick!” I exclaimed, “the double charge has done it.” [Dick had previously had great difficulty getting a buffalo’s attention with his single, .62-caliber rifle, and Baker had necessarily killed the wounded ones with his heavy rifles. Now Sir Samuel has persuaded his friend to double the powder charge and hope for the best.] For other hunts, such as javelina, see our Javelina Hunting page for more information.

Dick stood in front of the bull’s head, and reveled in the delight of his first buffalo, which he had killed with a neat shot from so insignificant a weapon. “Never stand at the head of a buffalo, whether dead or alive,” I exclaimed to my excited and delighted friend; “but always stand upon the side facing the back of the animal, well away from the legs as I am standing now.” [By the way, this is perfect advice today, for all manner of animals.]

The words were hardly uttered when to our intense surprise, the apparently dead buffalo suddenly sprang to its feet and blundered forward straight at the astonished Dick, who was not 3 feet distant. . . . Instinctively, as quick as lightning, my right hand had drawn my long hunting knife and plunged it hilt deep behind the shoulder. To my amazement, the buffalo fell to the blow; and kicking all four legs, and the convulsive twitching of the tail, showed unmistakably that this time the mighty bull was beyond recovery. [I told you this was not a common fellow!!!]

This was a very wonderful escape, and a most practical example of the teaching which I was giving when the resuscitation took place. The question would naturally be asked—, “what sort of hunting knife was this?”

The knife was a portion of a real old “Andrea Ferrara” Highland claymore [a Scottish broad sword, forged by the most famous maker of all time]. The blade was 18 inches in length and two inches in breadth, double-edged, and as sharp as it was possible to make it. The point was as keen as a lancet; that is the condition in which a hunting knife should always be kept. [Sir Samuel offered a P.S. to his friend’s buffalo hunting.] From that moment my companion declined to fire at buffalos; I felt no hesitation in supporting his determination, as his weapon was totally inadequate to the work required.

With that salute, knowing that a .62 caliber, with more than 80 grains of powder was a toy, we move to Mr. Baker’s use of his “Devil Stopper.”

Upon reaching the base of this narrow promontory I saw the buffalos would dispute the right of possession, and I advanced with extreme caution, the 3-oz. rifle [which is explained later*] in my hand, while my trustworthy native carried the long 2-oz. [I believe the “long 2-oz.” was an 8-bore with a long barrel.]

We had not proceeded far when the buffalos which were on the point ranged up together, and, without much demonstration, a large bull made a determined charge at full speed upon us, fortunately without being accompanied by his companions.

A shot from the 3-oz. met him exactly in the chest, and his momentum was so great that, being shot through the heart, he turned a complete somersault, and lay dead upon the muddy ground. This two-grooved rifle was easy to load, as the belt of the bullet that it fitted at once into the broad and deep lines [grooves] of the barrel. I had just placed the cap upon the nipple, when undismayed by the fate of the first buffalo, another bull charged, but not with the same velocity. This fellow regularly crumpled up, and lay floundering upon the ground, the bloody foam from the mouth proving the death-wound through the lungs.

We need to pause a moment to think about those shots and the power necessary to provide the result. The first was a frontal chest shot, through the heart. It could not have hit the spine. The second, a lung hit probably did not either. Today, similar hits from a .458 Winchester or other “heavy” would hardly get the notice of the buffalo, at least for several seconds and many yards. We see that this rifle was the moral equivalent of the sword Sir Samuel Baker simply called a “knife.” It was really a young cannon that we will describe in a moment. (It was not only powerful but accurate too, as we see in the next episode!)

The buffalos were not worthy of the name; I could not make one show fight, nor could I even get within three hundred yards of them. I returned from the plain with disgust; but just as I was quitting the shores of the lake, I noticed three buffalos in the shallows about knee deep in the water, nearly half a mile from me. They did not look bigger than dogs, the distance was so great.

There is nothing like a sheet of water for trying a rifle; the splash of the ball shows with such distinctness the accuracy, or the defect, in the shooting. It was necessary that I should fire my guns off in order to clean them that evening; I therefore tried the power at this immense distance.

The long two-ounce fell short, but in a good line. I took a rest upon a man’s shoulder with the fourounce rifle [Baker seems to refer to this as a four-ounce in one book and a three-ounce in another because he sometimes used a four-ounce conical bullet, but it is one in the same.] and, putting up the last sight, I aimed at the leading buffalo, who was walking through the water parallel with us. I aimed at the outline of the throat, to allow for his pace at that great distance. The recoil of the rifle cut the man’s ear open, as there were sixteen drachms of powder in this charge. [He used the old spelling, drachm, for the more modern dram or just over 27 grains. The charge was one ounce of “strongest, finest grained” gunpowder!]

We watched the smooth surface of the water as the invisible messenger whistled over the lake. Certainly three seconds elapsed before we saw the slightest effect. At the expiration of that time the buffalo fell suddenly in a sitting position, and there remained fixed; many seconds after, a dull sound returned to our ears; it was the “futt” of the ball which had positively struck him at this immense range. The heavy ball had passed completely through his hips, crushing both joints.

[Baker adds full credibility to the event by saying:] It was of course a chance shot, and, even with this acknowledgment, it must appear rather like the “marvelous” to a stranger;—that is my misfortune, not my fault. I certainly never made such a shot before, or since; it was a sheer lucky hit, say at 600 yards; and the wonderful power of the rifle was thus displayed in the ball perforating the large body of the buffalo [not to mention six or eight inches of solid bone] at this range. This shot was made with a round ball, not a cone. The round belted ball for this heavy twogrooved rifle weighs three ounces. The conical ball weighs a little more than four ounces.

In another episode, this great rifle actually shot completely through both shoulders of two buffalo at one time, stopping under the hide on the far side of the last. This masterpiece was made by Gibbs of Bristol. (*This is the 3-ounce rifle Sir Baker refers to.) It weighed 21 pounds and had a 36-inch barrel, with a rifling twist of one turn in the length of the barrel. The ball weighed 3 ounces or approximately 1,300 grains. Considering the quantity and quality of powder it used, I judge the velocity to be about 1,800 fps, and it may have gone as high as 2,000 fps due to the strength of the powder. It possessed more “paper power” than the .600 Nitro Express, and in the field it was surely the most effective heavy of all time. To my surprise and dismay, this rifle has disappeared in words and reality. Unfortunately it is often confused with a Holland rifle that fired a half-pound explosive shell, a rifle that Baker used in Africa and disliked greatly.

We end with the words of Mr. Baker, one of my great heroes, looking backward.

My old hunting-knife is at this moment hanging against the wall, among a number of my old friends that are associated with early years; and when I regard this trusty servant, that shows no grey hairs to show the advance of time, I cannot help recalling the words I wrote so many years ago at the conclusion of my first publication The Rifle and Hound in Ceylon:—The day’s sport concluded, the evenings were most enjoyable, and will never be forgotten. The well arranged tent, the neatly spread table, the bed forming a triangle around the walls, and the clean guns piled in a long row against the gun rack, will often recall a tableau in after years, in countries far from this land of independence. The acknowledged sports in England will appear child’s play; the exciting thrill will be wanting, when a sudden rush in the jungle brings the rifle upon full cock; and the heavy guns will become useless mementoes of past days, like the dusty helmets of yore, hanging up in an old hall. The belt and hunting- knife will alike share the fate of a good rifle, and the blade, now so keen, will blunt with sheer neglect. This was written in 1853, and I have lived to see the forecast of events fulfilled.

Sometimes it is very difficult to be born 150 years too late. – R.S., 2003 AD.

This and other wonderful books of old may be found at: Gunnerman Books, PO Box 217, Owosso MI 48867; Gunnermanbooks@aol.com. Some of the originals are expensive, but many like The Rifle and the Hound in Ceylon have been reprinted and are more reasonable. For other hunting, see our Dall Sheep Hunting page to find out more.

By Ross Seyfried

This article and many more like it can be found by Successful Hunter Magazine. Visit them at www.successfulhunter.com