Hunting at Ross Hammock Ranch
Topic:
My First Hunt, Part 2
After a restless night at the lodge hearing gun shots in the distance and the wooden structure creaking in the cold with only the two of us at this secluded place, we welcomed the alarm at 5:30 AM Saturday morning. It was time to prepare for our tree stand encounter. No makeup or hair to fix, I just had to bundle up. We would wait until our guide H arrived before adding the final layer.
The thermometer read 37 degrees, fortunately not 22 as forecast? I stepped outside to check and it didn’t feel like 22 but our truck was covered in ice, and it was raining. Great, now I’ll need that waterproof layer too. H arrived as we were evaluating the scenario. “Hey, it didn’t get nearly as cold as they said.” It really was a balmy 37 degrees and the rain had stopped by the time we got in the truck.
We drove through the dark toward our tree stand. We would arrive a half hour prior to daylight before the feeder went off. With the sky overcast there were no stars or city lights for any sense of direction. It was as dark as dark gets, except for the headlights. Finally we see the feeder. H got us right up to the tree stand so we could hop right onto the ladder. I climbed up first, with Scott close behind. I made my way into the two-seater tree stand. Great, it was a side-by-side so we could cuddle for warmth. I sat first and felt the immediate cold from the wet, icy cushion. Well, why not, it had been raining and was cold enough to freeze anything damp. Common sense told me to turn it over to the dry side. Scott joined me and took his nice dry spot to my left and wondered how I could be cold so quickly. I explained how with all of my prior wilderness experience, I had spared him from the same chilly sensation by turning his cushion over. He was appreciative and as I sat there, the seat warmed to an acceptable level, considering our conditions.
H said to stay for about an hour and if nothing had happened by then, call and he would come pluck us from the cold. He dropped more corn before departing. Scott was still getting settled in as H was leaving in the truck. In the headlights I saw a hog. It was light brown and very hairy, much like a Russian boar. H had seen it, turned off the headlights and hurried on his way. In the red tail lights, Scott saw there was a hog but there was not enough light for him to see any detail. He had not gotten the same look as I had. I know what the Russian boars look like, but surely one was not there waiting for us. Time will tell, the sun would not lend its hand for another half hour. So for now we sit and wait in the tree stand, not moving, and speaking only in a whisper, if at all.
There was plenty of corn to eat and the feeder would go off soon, basically a dinner bell for the animals. In the dark, we listened to the lone hog crunching on the corn, its appetite seemed to be insatiable. The sun was gradually making its presence known, we were now able to see the hog and it seemed to be a decent size. Finally there was enough light to confirm it was a Russian boar, what luck, but it was still hard to tell how big he was from 20 feet up in a tree stand. The feeder activated and soon we heard something approaching from behind. A four-horned ram and another smaller ram arrived to feed. The hair on the back of the Russian boar’s back instantly stood up and he took a stand. He wanted to let his visitors know not to mess with him, but he allowed them to feed, just not too close.
Later, we saw a familiar sight, the white footed pig that was feeding there the day before. Again, the Russian boar reminded him who was boss. For some time, we watched all four animals coexist and feed. The rams eventually left, leaving the two hogs behind. An hour had passed and I had snapped many pictures. You would think that the sun surely would warm things up, but it felt colder. We concluded that the longer we sat there, the colder it seemed. My toes were not happy. Scott told me to wiggle them frequently to help the circulation. They felt like ten little ice cubes and I knew we had to call H to pick us up fairly soon.
The Russian hog had made his way directly beneath our tree stand for our best look yet. His head was large, and his body much bigger than we thought. We were certain he would pick up our scent and flee, but he just kept feeding. After getting a closer look, Scott realized that this was his hog and he should have taken a shot earlier. Luckily, the Russian ate his way back to the feeder area, again in good range to take a shot. Still we questioned, “Is he really that big?”
Then we heard a noise coming from the brush and a feral hog approached, solid black. He was bigger than our white-footed friend and we got a good look at him. He was the same size as the hog we had shot the day before, which was about 200 pounds. This gave us an even better perspective. Our latest visitor got near enough to the Russian hog for us to put it all into place. We concluded this Russian truly was a big guy, an easy 250 pounds.
All three hogs continued to feed on the corn. The two feral hogs were kept at a reasonable distance by the frequent reminders of the Russian boar. The whispered conversation continued in the tree stand. “What do you think, should I take the shot? It’s now or never”, Scott said. An hour and a half had now passed, and I was convinced the temperature really was dropping and that my toes were dying a cold, painful death. In a convincing whisper, I told him “I’m freezing, just kill something.” With that, Scott raised his Blaser 308 rifle, lined up the Russian in the crosshairs of his scope, waited briefly for his target to assume the right angle and then took his shot. Perfect hit! The Russian boar took only one step and down he went. It was a heart shot. He was done. There would be no tracking this one. Very soon he was lying still on the cold wet ground where we had watched him feeding for the last hour. The other two pigs moved further away, not sure what had happened. After a few moments, they got closer to the Russian, wondering why he was no longer protecting his space. This made no sense to them and they chose to retreat to the safety of the woods.
We were anxious to get a closer look at our hog. However, we would stay in the tree stand until H was back with the truck. I never once forgot that those large, ill-tempered water buffalo were out there everywhere. We called H and soon he pulled up, stopping the truck with the tailgate positioned near the
lifeless beast. It was now safe to abandon the tree stand. Scott made his way down and rushed over to view his hog. I woke up my toes, convincing them the heated truck was only mere steps away, then followed closely behind Scott. As we hovered over the hog, H was congratulating Scott on his victory. This Russian boar was over 300 pounds. We had gotten “the big one”. After several pictures, it was time to load up and head back. So how do you get a 300 pound hog in the back of a truck? I certainly couldn’t be of any help, so I just took more pictures. Scott and H got the hog in position, took a deep breath, and on the count of three, up it went. Again we were amazed by its size, as his body stretched from one end of the tailgate to the other. How did we not see this from the tree stand? We could have taken the shot right at first light, but instead speculated on its size for the next hour. Looking back, I wouldn’t change that, no matter how cold we might have felt. We got to know this Russian and watch his interaction with the other animals. Each moment was a learning experience as each new animal surfaced. We witnessed their feeding habits, social habits and even some of their less desirable habits as we noticed one of the small pigs using the muddy pond as a bathroom, then later drinking from it. That’s why they call them pigs! Yes, we could have taken that shot much sooner, but the experience would have been the lesser for it. The guys continued to admire the Russian boar in the truck bed, while my toes and I enjoyed the lovely heat inside the truck. Then off we went. H confirmed the temperature had in fact dropped by six degrees. I knew it wasn’t just in my mind—or my toes!
One more experience before we leave the ranch. More photo opportunities. We were going through that special gate that housed the exotic animals. We drove a short way and suddenly, on our left, only feet from the truck, was the most beautiful Elk I had ever seen. I guess it’s the only one I’ve ever seen, other than on television or in a full body mount at our store. He just stopped and stared intently at us. He stood there for me, as if to pose for the camera. I managed to get one of my best shots of the trip. Then we were done with each other and went on our separate ways. Next sighting, a number of white-tail does in the distance, then some black buck antelopes. My camera was snapping pictures one after another. As we turned the corner, we saw zebras. They were gorgeous creatures, and I snapped my last pictures. It was time to go back to the lodge. We had to pack up and H had a very large boar to prep.
Back at the lodge, hot coffee was waiting and we enjoyed its warmth. I didn’t shed the bulky clothing right away. I wanted to thaw first. H said it would take a good hour to clean the boar and get him iced down for the trip home. We paced ourselves at the lodge. Miss Gail, our lodge hostess, showed up to prepare for the hunters coming in later that day. She shared her story of waking up her daughter during the night to see the snow falling. They had enough snow to build a small snowman and take pictures of this rare event in Florida. It was also a reminder of just how cold it had gotten. With the conclusion of the snowy details, Scott had his first opportunity to brag a little and share the story of his big Russian boar. She was impressed and Scott was beaming. That smile on his face warmed me up more than any cup of coffee or heavy clothing. I was so proud of him, and I was a bit proud of myself for once again stepping outside of my comfort zone to endure some of the most extreme conditions you might ever encounter on your first hunt, in Florida anyway. I can now say I’ve been hunting, thanks to my husband and I can go back to work and brag on both of us. I look forward to our next adventure.
This entire story is based on actual events, written by Laura Patrick, who together with her husband Scott and a partner, own Shoot Straight Tampa Gun Store and Range. Ross Hammock Ranch is located in Inglis, Florida, and offers a great variety of hunting & fishing options for people of all experience levels.
