Chapter 4
Father and son were up early the following day, ready to hunt. Roy wore hunting clothes, which amounted to his oldest pair of jeans, boots with snake gaiters, and a long-sleeved Wrangler welding shirt that used to be his dad’s. And on his hip was his with his brand-new pigsticker. Roy had to wait until they were ready to leave before his dad opened the gun cabinet and handed Roy his grandfather’s 1911 .45 that he brought home from World War II.
Rose was up even earlier than them, preparing a hearty breakfast of fried eggs, sausage, and toast for Roy and his father. Even Bandit got a couple of eggs and some leftover sausage in his bowl.
They had a big day planned and needed to get all the dogs ready to go and loaded in the trailer kennels. Once they got to the barn, Roy put the cut collars and vests on the dogs while Sam put the GPS collars on them and made sure everything was working. Bandit stood by and supervised. If he saw something wrong, he would always bark or jump on the issue until it was fixed.
Once they had everything ready, Roy put a vest and collar on Bandit and his GPS Collar. Roy’s dad kept track of all the dogs except for Bandit, which was Roy’s responsibility. Then, the three of them hopped into the truck. Sam drove, and Roy jumped into the passenger seat while Bandit took his place in the truck’s bed.
Today, they were hunting just down the road from their house. Sometimes, they would drive an hour or two for a hunt, but today, they wanted to check out a ranch that was nearly two thousand acres covered in pecan, live oak, and mesquite. This ranch also had over three thousand feet of access to the river and at least five different ponds.
When they pulled up to the ranch, two of their hunting buddies were also there. Mr. Ferguson was the old man of the group and was in his early sixties. He was as tough as they come. And Hank was one of Sam’s best friends from childhood. They all hunted as a team and tried their best to always go hog hunting together to make sure someone was there to ensure they were safe. They were not scared of anything, but nobody knew what those crazy hogs would do. A couple of years ago, Hank took a pretty nasty shot from a boar and ended up having to be airlifted to San Antonio from the injuries he sustained from the boar’s six-inch tusks hitting his lungs.
“Roy and me will take my dogs and Bandit down to the river bottom and push anything we find towards the western ponds. Y’all can start here and work the fence lines on the eastern side of the property and push west. Give us a ten to twenty-minute head start, and we should be able to meet up in an hour or two. That a plan?” asked Sam.
The other two hunters looked at each other and agreed, “Yeah, that will work for me; just make sure you have your GPS on, so we know where you are at. Don’t want your boy here getting all that good meat, with his new sticker,” replied Mr. Ferguson.
Roy pulled out his knife and showed everyone, “Mr. Ferguson, you know it’s only going to take one jab with this thing here, and that hog will drop quick.”
“We’ll see about that young buck,” replied Mr. Ferguson.
The two groups separated and took their dogs down different paths. Roy and his father worked their way south towards the river and the pecan trees that were hundreds of years old. There was a low spot in the river where they knew the hogs crossed over from. The grass was pushed down, and they instantly saw fresh tracks.
“Couldn’t be older than a couple of hours. Maybe an hour or two,” Sam said.
Roy took a quick look at them, and he could see they were wet, “Yes, sir. They are still wet. Probably came through here about an hour ago.”
The two of them continued to look for more tracks as the dogs circled the area. They moved quick, with their noses down, smelling everything. Bandit signaled that he wanted to head away from the river. He got a whiff of something, and he wanted to go.
“Look, Dad, Bandit’s got one he wants.”
“Yeah, let’s go see what we can get into,” replied Sam.
They walked about a hundred yards towards the ponds when Roy found something he had never seen before, “Dad, come look at this.”
“Whatcha got, son?” Sam looked off into the woods, trying to see a sign that the hogs had been through the area.
“Dad, if this is what I think it is. We’re gonna need some serious firepower.”
“Come again?”
“Dad, get over here and look at this.”
Sam made his way over to what Roy was looking at, and when Roy pointed to the track on the ground, his mouth dropped, and his eyes bulged. “That might be the beast.”
“The beast?” asked Roy.
“Yeah, the beast. Stay alert,” said Sam as he unbuttoned his holster holding his S&W .44. Roy, go ahead and get that pistol ready. Keep it holstered, but make sure you can get to it on a seconds notice.
Roy popped his 1911 out of his holster and made sure he could quickly get to it. Then, they continued to follow the tracks of the beast. The further away from the river, the thicker the brush got. As they followed the tracks, they found an area that was freshly rutted. Everything in the area was completely torn up. Most of the time, you could see where the hogs rutted but, something else caught their attention. A three-inch-thick mesquite tree was shattered. Whatever it was, it hit that tree and tore it to pieces. Roy didn’t know what to think. He was nervous and even a little scared. But he was out with his dad and the other hog hunters, and he would not show any fear in front of these men. Every man here was someone to whom Roy looked up, and he knew deep down that there was no way that he would ever let them see any fear in his eyes. But he was scared.
Once they were about three hundred yards from the ponds, one of the dogs finally had a good trail and started barking up a storm. The other dogs caught on, too, and they took off. Bandit was right there leading the pack.
Roy and his dad knew they found the beast before they even laid eyes on him.
Bandit and the other dogs instantly found what they were looking for. A pack of wild hogs was in one of the shallow ponds. Twenty or thirty of them at least and every one of them was dirty and caked with mud. When they saw the dogs come through the brush, most of the hogs took off. A few of them wanted a fight, and so did the dogs. There was no waiting or talking back and forth like when people fight. No, these dogs smelled the hogs, and as soon as they saw them, they wanted to take them out. The fight was on. The pack of hunting dogs sprinted towards the hogs and did their best to grab a leg or even an ear. It didn’t matter what they could grab ahold of as long as they bit something. Their job was to bite onto the hog and don’t let go. The hogs were trying to defend themselves. They put their full weight into knocking off the dogs and even used their biggest weapon, their cutters or tusks, which most people call them. Some of the tusks were as sharp as razors, and some had points that could easily pierce the skin.
Mr. Ferguson’s dogs heard barking and snorting from the hogs and ran into the fight. When everyone arrived at the pond, they all froze. In front of them was the biggest, nastiest, and meanest hog any of them had ever laid their eyes on. It was a hog that tales were told of. This hog was throwing dogs off of him like rag dolls. Bandit was having a hard time holding his own. He had a good bite on the giant hog’s ear but was getting tossed everywhere. But he didn’t let go.
“Stay back, Roy,” said Sam as the men pulled out their knives and started to make their way into the fight. “You stay back; do not get in this. You hear me.”
“Yes sir,” replied Roy as he took a step back.
The men knew this was not a good place they were in, but they had no fear. They went after one of the smaller hogs first, and Mr. Ferguson was able to grab the smaller hog by the back of his neck and put his blade in the hog’s heart. That hog went down fast and without much fight, and instantly, the other dogs went to jump on another hog. Three or four of them were left by now, including the beast.
Sam took a step back and examined the situation. He had six dogs plus Bandit; Mr. Ferguson always ran eight dogs. He moved quickly and put his blade in one of the other hogs. As soon as it was done, he looked back at the others, who were all struggling. At this time, he knew he better do something fast. He pulled out his .44 and pulled the hammer back as he aimed it at one of the hogs tossing his dogs. It took him a tenth of a second before he could pull the trigger, and he saw it out the back of his eye.
Roy saw it, too. In less than a second, Roy unsheathed his brand-new knife and went in. Sam pulled the trigger and shot one of the hogs in the head. When the hammer was released and hit the firing pin, every dog and hog took off running. Even the beast took off. Roy ran after him. And after a few yards, he was able to stop running. Bandit lay there on the other side of the pond. When the pistol was fired, the beast had sunk one of his cutters into Bandit and drug him off. Bandit kept his bite on the beast’s ear even after being gored by the beast. He kept fighting. It wasn’t until the pistol was fired that the beast took off and threw Bandit back one last time when his cutter landed right between the collar and vest. The tusk was so long that the beast could not shake Bandit immediately. As he escaped, the beast finally shook Bandit off and ran over him as he headed back towards the river.
Roy saw this and ran to Bandit to comfort him and examine his wounds. He sat on the ground next to Bandit and held him in his arms as Bandit looked up at Roy. He held Bandit and yelled for his father to come help.
Sam saw what happened to Bandit and looked around and saw that most of the dogs had also taken a beating. At least five other dogs had severe wounds that needed to be looked at and tended to quickly. He ran over to Roy and Bandit and got down on a knee.
“Dad, please help him,” cried Roy. His face was next to Bandit’s now. Bandit put his tongue out and licked Roy. There was a glimmer in Bandit’s eyes after that lick. Roy kissed Bandit on the head and told him he would be alright. The boy showed the dog all the love in the world in those last few minutes.
Roy looked up at his dad, and his dad looked right into Roy’s eyes and said, “Son, I hate to tell you this, but Bandit is not going to make it.” The two of them had tears running down their faces. “You have a choice, son; you can go back over there with Mr. Ferguson and turn around if you don’t want to see this, or you can send him home. It’s your choice, but it must be made now.”
Roy knew what would happen; he thought about walking towards Mr. Ferguson for a brief moment and knew what he had to do. “Dad, Bandit’s my dog. I know what I need to do.” Roy leaned in and kissed Bandit’s head one last time. His eyes were starting to fade, and he tried to lick Roy as well. Roy leaned down and got the last slobber from Bandit. As he leaned up, Roy said he was sorry and loved him.
Sam was holding Bandit now, and he pointed to where Bandit’s heart was located. “Go straight in. Don’t hesitate. Make it quick.”
Roy pulled out the knife his father had gifted him and put the tip right where his dad had told him to. Tears were pouring out of his eyes, but he did what he had to do. Bandit jumped just a bit, and Roy’s dad held him tight. Then he was gone.
Roy dropped his knife and held Bandit. He knew he was gone but sat on the ground and held on to his best friend.
The other men knew what had just happened, but they didn’t have time to stop since so many other dogs were hurt. They all had been there before. Each has had to put down a dog they loved on a hunt. No one ever liked doing it, and it always hurt, but it was something that every hunter had to be prepared for at any moment. The hogs they were hunting were vicious creatures that could not show remorse. It was a kill-or-be-killed world they lived in, and today, the wrong side lost a good dog and friend.
Roy’s dad said a quick prayer for Bandit, then got up and started helping Mr. Ferguson and Hank. They tended to the other dogs with quick clot and a staple gun. Once they finished fixing wounds on the dogs. They did a quick count and accounted for all of the dogs.
Sam offered to pick up Bandit and take him back to the truck, but Roy had grown up more in the last fifteen minutes than he had his whole life. He turned down his dad’s offer and said he would carry Bandit’s body back to the truck. Bandit weighed a good sixty pounds. Roy put his knife back in his sheath and then tried to pick Bandit up. He had some trouble picking him up, and his dad helped get his body up; then Roy carried him back to the truck and laid his body on the tailgate.
When they were back at the truck, they looked over the other dogs again and gave them all first aid before they left for the house. Mr. Ferguson followed Roy and his father back to his house. Every time they lost a dog, everyone in the hunting party made sure to help with the burial.