By Chris Keck

"It was too hot", I said to myself as I buckled on my handgun .The scorching August heat beat down relentlessly on the milo field near my little ranch. I was not the first person to endure the heat or buckle on a sixgun in this area. From 1867 to the mid 1870’s hundreds of cowboys and thousands of Longhorns traveled this route on their way to the railheads in Kansas. Regardless how oppressive the weather, I knew the nomadic wild hogs that roamed this part of Texas would eventually find this bounty of food . Opening the loading gate of the.45 Ruger/Linebaugh revolver, I inspected each cartridge . Satisfied with the condition of my weapon, I eased into the waist high grain . No doubt about it, my quest to take one of the trophy boars on the old Chisholm Trail would be a hot one.

This hog hunt began like many others that I had been on, but usually baying dogs and horses were involved. The 103-degree temperature ruled the dogs out and my plan was to sit until dark on one of the game trails leading to the water hole. I like hunting for wild boar; the seclusion and a slight element of danger make each hunt special . I suppose any hunter who has pursued wild hogs for any length of time has had his share of close calls, and the facts prove that hog hunting can be dangerous.

A few years ago my nephew Staley had arrowed a huge boar at thirty yards with his compound bow. The old boar retreated and was never recovered. My nephews description of the hog put him in the 400 + pounds class. Had the boar decided to trade licks with Staley things could have gotten serious. My old hog-hunting partner, the late Nelson Moenning couldn’t stop a huge old boar with his .38 special revolver and skilled hounds in this general area. Nelson’s technique was to ride his horse into the melee of baying dogs and shoot from his saddle. Nelson always tried for the brain, but shooting from horseback is no easy task. . The old Smith and Wesson .38 special was overmatched on that day. The boar finally scattered the hounds and escaped to a remote creek bottom 2 miles away. The .38 special is not my choice for a hog gun, but Nelson killed his share of hogs with one.

Generally, a wild hog would prefer to run than fight. The key word is ‘generally’. When a hog becomes convinced he is cornered or is wounded, he can be a very serious adversary. On previous hunts I witnessed hounds thrown through the air and cut to the bone with one slash of a boar’s tusk. I had one occasion when a boar charged me. I fired four 300-grain Sierra jacketed soft points from my .44 magnum and stopped that charge. The small boar weighed only 85 pounds but managed to cover 30 yards toward me before going down . All four of those .44 magnum bullets passed completely through the hog . The tenacity and quickness of a wild hog are surprising . I had no desire to find out how much ground a wounded 300-pound boar could cover.

I had been shooting the .45 Colt all summer and had settled on two different loads. Both of these handloads were capable of grouping five shots around one-inch at 25 yards. The first load was a long time favorite of Ruger Blackhawk shooters 10.0 grains of Unique and a 255-grain Keith semi-wadcutter. My chronograph recorded the velocity of this load at 1045 fps. In penetration tests the 255-grain load would penetrate 25 inches of wet newsprint. This method of shooting into wet packed newsprint will give a hunter a good idea of the penetrating qualities of a given load.

The second load developed for the Ruger/Linebaugh .45 consisted of a 328 grain LBT wide long nose plain base bullet cast by Hunters Supply in Tioga ,Texas. I used 21.8 grains of Hodgdon 110, a Federal 150 primer and Starline brass. This load was designed for breaking bones and deep penetration. The 328-grain load clocked 1188 fps and penetrated 34 inches of wet newsprint. I knew this 328-grain load was more than enough for any big boar I might encounter.

My decision about which handload to use for a boar was not easy. I had both the 255-grain and the 328-grain handloads boxed ready to use in the seat of the pickup. I also had a small screwdriver to make the 11 click sight adjustment. After a short mental debate, I had loaded the 255-grain load and hoped I had made the right decision.

Influenced by experienced shootists, my handgun was customized by two fine gunsmiths. John Linebaugh of Linebaugh Custom Sixguns had replaced the 7.5-inch factory barrel with one of his heavy 5.5 inch barrels. Mr. Linebaugh assured me the factory 6 shot cylinder was cut to correct chamber and throat dimensions. Elton Teague my longtime friend and gunsmith, had installed a free spin pawl and reduced the trigger pull to 3 lbs. To complete this first class single action I commisioned two other personal touches,  a pair of fancy grips and a Bowen rear sight. Elton Teague a master stock maker found and fitted the gun with a 2-piece grip of elegant French walnut . I ordered a Bowen all steel adjustable rear sight from Bowen Classic Arms and, as far as I was concerned, I had the perfect hunting handgun.

Photo by the Author

Approaching the water hole, I could see the destruction the hogs had caused to the milo. The shallow pond was surrounded by grain except on the east side. The hot summer wind gusted directly in my face, and I was certain that if the hogs happened to be in or near the water they could not catch my scent. Trying to avoid the grass burs and bull-nettles I eased to within 20 yds of the water. The small green willows that grew near the little oasis provided little shade and the only substantial trees on the ranch were 300 yards to the east.

Wiping the sweat from my eyes, I could see no hogs in or near the water. The only object that caught my attention was an obtrusive log on the far side of the pond. Squatting down I began to take a second look at the mud-covered log. The log looked about 5 feet long and appeared to be half-buried in thick mud. Still something did not look quite right . Although the temperature was close to 100 degrees, a cold chill ran down my back. That was no log; I was looking at a trophy boar. The boar had no idea I was there, and I had a decision to make . I could shoot from where I was standing ,but I would have to take a difficult 60 yard shot. The old boar, stretched out in the mud, was not presenting a very good target . On the other hand, I could go around the pond using the willows and the low tank dam for cover and try for a closer shot.

Handgunning has taught me --- when in doubt get closer. I began the slow stalk around the waterhole towards the boar, praying I did not spook him or walk up on other hidden hogs. The .45 was in my right hand and I parted the nimble willows with my left. Only 10 feet to go and I would have a clear shot at the old boar. I will never know how animals can sense that they are being stalked, but the old boar did. Only 27 steps from the boar I stopped and slowly cocked the hammer on the .45. The boar now alert, began to raise himself clear of the quagmire. His front feet were under him still when my sights came to rest on his shoulder. Reminding myself to hold the sight picture steady, I squeezed the trigger. I would have bet 100 dollars I could not have knocked that boar down with the .45 Colt using the 255 grain bullets ,but down he went ---- thrashing, snapping his jaws and looking in my direction. Overwhelmed with the first shot I realized if that the old boar got to his feet I could be in trouble. I fired two more deliberate shots to the shoulder and it was over. I ejected the 3 spent rounds and reloaded the .45. The first shot had struck the boar at the junction of his neck and shoulder and the follow- up shots were in the shoulder. I was fortunate with the first shot that had struck the spine, and ,upon closer inspection, I noticed none of the 255 grain semi-wadcuttter bullets had exited .

Later that evening ,Staley was caping the boar out for a shoulder mount, and I asked ‘Was the big boar you shot at with your bow a few years ago about this size’? Staley smiled, and said, "No, the one I shot was 100 lbs heavier". I laughed and we jokingly traded insults, but I knew that he had indeed seen a monster hog. I suppose that is what makes hunting exciting, always looking for the big one. Lord willing when the milo turns burnt orange I will be back in the field, hoping to find one of the big boars on the old Chisholm Trail.

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Photo by Jim L Keck