Chris' hog was left overnight on the gambrel. In the morning, it was found coated in ice and swinging softly like some kind of frozen Lord of the Flies. The frozen weather and draining of the animal had given it huge ice boogers (I chose not to share the much more graphic close-up of the face).
Since those of us hunting were used to the frozen north, we were prepared with ice scrapers to at least clean the vehicles off. We drove to breakfast at a very measured pace. Predictably, there was very little traffic on the icy roads. I guess I always knew that the South doesn't have much in the way of road equipment, but to see the real effects of a geography without plows or salt trucks was still a little eye opening.
After breakfast I went with Rick and a friend of his (Chad?) to look for a hog he had shot the night before. The nights precipitation would have erased any memory of blood but we spent some time looking. On seeing me in the bush looking for the hog he remarked that we might be looking for a needle in a haystack. I responded that 5 haystacks was more likely.
Chad's hog wasn't found and Rick ceremoniously cut his shirt tail. Rick had previously placed a trail camera there and later in the day the pictures revealed that all six hogs that were on the corn pile when Chad shot showed up much later that night. Unambiguous that the shot was a miss.
We caravanned to Georgetown to hunt for the night. I was following alone in my truck. The roads had partially improved at this point, but there were still significant patches of ice that had a tendency to show unexpectedly. We made it to the plantation without incident and got ready to hunt for the evening.
The ice storm had affected the trees on the plantation with many limbs down and some trees down as well. On the first stand Rick put me on there was basically no shot opportunities since the weight of the ice had the branches of nearby trees covering the corn pile.
I ended up sitting in a ground blind in a swampy area looking down a road. The chair I was in was coated in ice which melted and refroze. Every time I moved, a chunk of ice somewhere on the chair cracked loudly.
Several deer came out while on the stand including a very large piebald deer. I have rarely seen these in the wild so it was neat to see it. The deer were staying towards the back of the corn pile. On a couple of occasions, I saw what I thought was a black bird on the right hand side of the corn pile.
As the night progressed I heard four other shots that I presumed were from someone else in the group.
At some point, the deer all left and it became apparent that the bird was actually a hog. It was staying out of site in the thick stuff, but very slowly worked its way out to the point that I had a clear view of the front of the hog's body. Steadying on my shooting sticks, I shot.
At the shot I didn't see it fall, but didn't hear it run away and with the icy vegetation, I figured I would have. I knew not seeing it after the shot was a bad sign. There were some significant dips in the road where its body could have been hidden.
Texting back and forth with Rick, I was anxious to see if I got it. I knew based on what I saw that it was either a clean hit resulting in an instant drop or a clean miss, resulting in the animal running away quickly and noiselessly. On being picked up, it was the latter. I was a little upset as it wasn't too challenging of a shot - other than the fact that head shots on a moving target at over 100 yards are not trivial.
Mike had shot a small - and I do mean small hog. It wasn't clear why it took four shots, but given that I had missed, I had little reason to poke fun at him (although everyone else was).
The drive back to the lodge was terrible. The roads and thawed and refroze to the point that black ice was everywhere. There were numerous accidents and cars off the road. Rick and I drove very carefully, especially for the last 15 miles or so and thankfully made it back without incident.
There must have been some salt trucks in the area, but they only sparingly salted the worst of the black ice and in very haphazard way. There must be skill to salting roads and/or the SC equipment was sub par. Large quantities of salt were potentially not available as they would be in other areas. Likely all three.
Back at the lodge, Rick hacked my shirt tail off. In getting ready for antelope hunting last fall, I had been doing more shooting at longer ranges than I had in years so should have been prepared. I'm a little unclear on the reason for the miss but I'll be back at the range soon enough to do some investigation soon enough.
Thursday morning I was up and out the door by 3:30 AM. The roads had slightly improved to the point there were only a few really slippery spots overnight.
Pointed west, my truck was making a terrible noise like it had a broken window or something. As a large sheet of ice flew off the vehicle the noise changed and dramatically decreased. This happened several more times through the day as my truck unfroze.
News reports of the storm told the story of Georgia where the storm was only slightly worse, but Atlanta came to an absolute standstill. Yet another reason to like the rural areas over the any large city.
I came home to minor damage form the wind storm that pushed me south early for the hunt. I can't say I wanted to do roof repair when I got home, but it was sort of warm and relatively dry.
After completing that and unpacking/cleaning my gear, I got a text from Rick. I had lost my flashlight on the second night and Rick was previously unable to find it. Unlikely as it may be, it was dangling from the treestand. Perhaps I'll get it next year.
I've been hunting hogs now for eight consecutive years. I sometimes think I should use precious vacation time for other things since there are so many things I want to do. But, I know that winter would not be winter at this point without a trip south to go after wild hogs.
