When I was about 12 or 13 I had taken my pirogue up a small cutoff from the main bayou. I wandered several miles up it before deciding I was sleepy. I layed in the bottom of the boat and took a nap just floating along looking up at the cloud shapes. I woke to the sound of nearby squealing and grunting. I peeked over the side and saw a big group of wild hogs. I was in knee deep water so I jumped out and quietly beached my boat and grabbed my trusty .22 rifle. I sneeked around their flank and saw me a big fat one and decided to shoot it right in the rear end /forums/images/graemlins/grin.gif. I did so /forums/images/graemlins/shocked.gif. About that time all sorts of squealing and grunting commenced and some snorting too and I saw that they was all headed after me. Problem was that in flanking them I had put them between my pirogue and myself---not good /forums/images/graemlins/crazy.gif. It was about that time I decided running was a good thing and let me tell you for a skinny white boy I can run--so I lit out /forums/images/graemlins/smirk.gif. Somewhere along the way I lost my rifle whilst being pursued by the hogs intent on I imagine eating me /forums/images/graemlins/shocked.gif. I was flying across the ground and had a lead on'em so I cut for the water and hit it in a headlong dive and was doing the crawl stroke for all I could with a huge mad hog right in behind me. It was sometime before I could get my boat and there was no way to get my rifle. Dejectedly, I cranked the 3.5 horse Johnson and headed homeward in hopes my grandfather would come back and get my rifle, it was important because it had belonged to my uncle who was killed in WWII and leaving my rifle behind was not how I had been trained either /forums/images/graemlins/frown.gif. Well, I recoverd my rifle the next day not much worse for wear, still have it. Moral is, if you shoot a hog in the arse, better do it with something more than a .22 /forums/images/graemlins/smirk.gif.
Seriously, those hogs can be dangerous, be careful. J