Life here at the farm has been pretty mundane during most of this virus-induced self-quarantine. However, today was different. Around mid-morning, the Bagley Pack and I walked over to check on some brush piles we burned yesterday. On the way back, the dogs were exploring the line of cedars that spilled down the hillside toward our upper stock pond. Rue stopped suddenly and barked several times. It wasn’t her “squirrel bark,” so I walked over to investigate. She was staring intently into the trees, on full alert.
As I came closer, I could see Cody and Kota on either side of her, several yards away and also looking into the brush. Then, as I approached, Rue (reinforcements having arrived) inched forward and I saw what she saw. There, about 15 or 20 yards beyond was a feral hog standing his ground with the three dogs in a semi-circle watching him. He (I assume it was a boar hog since he was alone) was black and big…probably 3 times the size of one of my dogs and weighing perhaps 150 pounds.
I froze, and at that moment he made a quick charge toward Rue, who was in the center. If you’ve never had something that dangerous lunge toward you, and with nothing between you and it but a border collie in full retreat, you’re lucky! Fortunately, the hog was apparently only bluffing, because he came to a sliding stop after a charge of about 10 yards. I joined Rue in beating a hasty retreat, and Cody and Kota called off and followed with no urging. Please forgive me for not staying around long enough to get a photo. I did, however, capture this image on our game camera a couple of weeks later. I'm sure it's the same hog, as he seems to come in for a snack almost every evening.
John and I went back later to try to find the beast, but he had moved on. The experience was especially unnerving, because of the way the hog behaved. Feral hogs are no strangers here, but always before they have run when the heard us or the dogs. We seldom see them; there are only a few grunts and crashing in the brush as they make their escape. This one had every opportunity to move away when it heard us, but it inexplicably chose to stand its ground. It will be a long time before I take a walk on our “mountain” without carrying something that goes “bang” in case I run into that fellow again.
And that wasn’t the only excitement in the last week or so. While the dogs and I were confronting a feral hog, a quarter-mile or so away my brother, Allan, was eliminating a rattlesnake with his ‘brush hog,” a shredder that we pull behind the tractor.
Last week Allan and Jef’s Brittany spaniel pup, Rosie, had another very scary “adventure." Rosie was hanging out with her dog cousins at our house last Tuesday. I was working in the yard and she was messing about 50 or so yards away north of our house. I heard her yip, and looked up just as she jumped back, then eased forward toward something in the grass. I knew immediately what she was likely looking at. I ran toward her, calling her to me. When I got close, I could hear the snake “singing” as loud as it could rattle.
I took Rosie back to the yard and put her in our outdoor kennel, then called John to bring the shotgun. We were able to locate the snake, a 3-4 foot specimen, under a cedar tree and shoot it. Rosie, unfortunately had a bite on her face under her right eye, but only one fang had struck her. After a quick trip to Coryell Vet Clinic in Gatesville, antivenin treatment and an overnight stay, she was able to go home and has now recovered completely.
Snakes are a part of our world here, so we are always on the lookout for them. Our dogs receive vaccine shots twice a year, and all have also gone through “rattlesnake avoidance” training. That gives us some measure of comfort, but we can’t forget how we lost our Nickie to a rattlesnake bite seven years ago. It has made us especially mindful of the damage they can do. We’re just glad our recent encounters ended with the elimination of vipers rather than a snake bite.
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