So much opportunity!
First, you should see the job applicants we get here when we have a job opening!
Sow's, boars, all weigh more than our concrete floor should hold!
Ok, back on the subject.
My very first "Great White Hunter" job came because of one of them!
I was about 15 or 16 and a family friend was having a problem. One big ole pig was having his way down in the country. He'd demolished a few chicken coops, and wasn't afraid of anything or anyone. He was only mean on his good days, the other days you didn't want to see or hear him.
A rampaging hog can easily destroy a few dozen chickens for a snack. Normal walls don't even present much of an obstacle. Those critters are big, fat, and strong. They just barrel right into a door or wall and it breaks.
Anyway, I was "hired" or "bribed" into killing the thing. The deal was simple, I had a few days I could dedicate to the task, the one friend of my dad's had a hayloft, and a bunch of soft drinks and snacks. My duty cycle was 24 on, then 24 more on, and so on until I killed the fat smelly SOB.
My equipment was simple, I had my 20 gauge with slugs, and an ancient 8mm Mauser with a bunch of surplus ammo. No restrictions on daylight only firing, etc. I also had an old lounge chair in the opening to the farm yard. Hard work. Sit around, listen to my crystal radio (OK, most of you rich guys don't even know what that is.) Keep an eye out for the critter. The radio was good, because the "volume control" was non-existant.
It took a few days and nights. We cheated and baited them. Built a chicken pen with a few stakes and used more chicken wire for a top. They made normal chicken sounds and the big pig thought it was the ice cream truck jingling for him!
OK, it was an easy shot. He was about 20 yards out and just walked around the pen one time, looking for an easy way in. He never found it. The old Mauser 98 Kilt him deader'n hell. That last being a KY term for toes-up.
The farmer heard my shot, gave it plenty of time so as not to meet up with a wounded hog. It was a bunch of work, too. Tractors and a chain works well. We drug it onto a big piece of sheet metal, then drug the sheet metal and pig to a hoist in the barn. Hauled it up in the air, moved the tractor and dropped it in the truck bed. Then hauled its sorry ass to a local guy who slaughtered them.
He said it was too big and nasty to make anything but sausage. Fine with me, all I wanted was the remaining pop and snacks, and a ride home. Oh, and the farmer threw in a bunch of new to me ammo. Mr. Hitlers unused stuff. Not a problem. That was the early 1960s, and it was only 20 year old ammo at the time!
Oh, the shot? Classic quartering away. Busted his off side shoulder after messing up his boiler room. I didn't care, the object was his demise, not saving meat.
