by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
WILD HOGS OF THE WOODS.
Next day while threading our way through a patch of oak forest--theground covered thickly with fallen leaves--we were startled by apeculiar noise in front of us. It was a kind of bellows-like snort,exactly like that made by the domestic swine when suddenly affrighted.
Some of the party cried out "bear," and of course this announcementthrew us all into a high state of excitement. Even the buffalo itselfwould be but secondary game, when a bear was upon the ground.
The "snuff" of the bear has a very considerable resemblance to that ofterrified hogs, and even our guides were deceived. They thought itmight be "bar" we had heard.
It proved we were all wrong. No wonder we fancied the noise resembledthat made by hogs. The animal that uttered it was nothing else than awild boar.
"What!" you will exclaim, "a wild boar in the forests of Missouri? Oh!a peccary I suppose."
No, not a peccary; for these creatures do not range so far north as thelatitude of Missouri--not a wild boar, neither, if you restrict themeaning of the phrase to the true indigenous animal of that kind. Forall that, it was a wild boar, or rather a boar _ran wild_. Wild enoughand savage too it appeared, although we had only a glimpse of its shaggyform as it dashed into the thicket with a loud grunt. Half a dozenshots followed it. No doubt it was tickled with some of the "leadenhail" from the double-barrelled guns, but it contrived to escape,leaving us only the incident as a subject for conversation.
Throughout the backwoods there are large numbers of half-wild hogs, butthey are usually the denizens of woods that are inclosed by arail-fence, and therefore private property. One part of the year theyare tamer, when a scarcity of food renders it necessary for them toapproach the owner's house, and eat the corn placed for them in awell-known spot. At this season they answer to a call somewhat similarto the "milk oh!" of the London dairyman, but loud enough to be heard amile or more through the woods. A traveller passing through thebackwoods' settlements will often hear this singular call sounding afaroff in the stillness of the evening.
These hogs pick up most of their subsistence in the forest. The "mast"of the beech-tree, the nut of the hickory, the fruit of the Chinquapinoak, the acorn, and many other seeds and berries, furnish them withfood. Many roots besides, and grasses, contribute to sustain them, andthey make an occasional meal off a snake whenever they can get hold ofone. Indeed it may be safely asserted, that no other cause hascontributed so much to the destruction of these reptiles, as theintroduction of the domestic hog into the forests of America. Wherevera tract of woods has been used as the "run" of a drove of hogs, serpentsof every kind become exceedingly scarce, and you may hunt through such atract for weeks without seeing one. The hog seems to have the strongestantipathy to the snake tribe; without the least fear of them. When oneof the latter is discovered by a hog, and no crevice in the rocks, orhollow log, offers it a shelter, its destruction is inevitable. The hogrushes to the spot, and, bounding forward, crushes the reptile under hishoof's. Should the first attempt not succeed, and the serpent glideaway, the hog nimbly follows, and repeats his efforts until the victimlies helpless. The victor then goes to work with his powerful jaws, andquietly devours the prey.
The fondness of the hog for this species of food proves that in a stateof nature it is partially a carnivorous animal. The peccary, which isthe true representative of the wild hog in America--has the very samehabit, and is well-known to be one of the most fatal enemies of theserpent tribe to be found among American animals.
The hog shows no fear of the snake. His thick hide seems to protecthim. The "skin" of the rattle-snake or the "hiss" of the deadly"moccasin," are alike unheeded by him. He kills them as easily as hedoes the innocent "chicken snake" or the black constrictor. The latteroften escapes from its dreaded enemy by taking to a bush or tree; butthe rattle-snake and the moccasin are not tree-climbers, and either hidethemselves in the herbage and dead leaves, or retreat to their holes.
It is not true that the hog cats the body of the snake he has killed,leaving the head untouched, and thus avoiding the poisoned fangs. Hedevours the whole of the creature, head and all. The venom of thesnake, like the "curari" poison of the South-American Indians, is onlyeffective when coming in contact with the blood. Taken internally itseffects are innoxious--indeed there are those who believe it to bebeneficial, and the curari is often swallowed as a medicine.
Most of this information about the half-wild hogs of the backwoods wasgiven by our Kentucky comrade, who himself was the proprietor of manyhundreds of them. An annual hog-hunt was part of the routine of hislife. It was undertaken not merely for the sport of the thing--thoughthat was by no means to be despised--and the season of the hog-huntingis looked forward to with pleasant anticipation by the domestics of theplantation, as well as a few select friends or neighbours who areinvited to participate in it.
When the time arrives, the proprietor, with his pack of hounds, andaccompanied by a party mounted and armed with rifles, enters the largetract of woodland--perhaps miles in extent, and in many places coveredwith cane-brakes, and almost impenetrable thickets of undergrowth. Tosuch places the hogs fly for shelter, but the dogs can penetratewherever hogs can go; and of course the latter are soon driven out, andforced into the more open ground, where the mounted men are waiting toreceive them with a volley of bullets. Sometimes a keen pursuitfollows, and the dogs in full cry are carried across the country, overhuge logs, and through thickets and ravines, followed by the horsemen--just as if an old fox was the game pursued.
A large waggon with drivers and attendants follows the chase, and inthis the killed are deposited, to be "hauled" home when the hunt isover.
This, however, often continues for several days, until all, or at leastall the larger hogs, are collected and brought home, and then the sportterminates. The produce of the hunt sometimes amounts to hundreds--according to the wealth of the proprietor. Of course a scene ofslaughtering and bacon-curing follows. A part of the bacon furnishesthe "smoke-house" for home consumption during the winter; while thelarger part finds its way to the great pork-market of Cincinnati.
The Kentuckian related to us a curious incident illustrating theinstinct of the swinish quadruped; but which to his mind, as well as toours, seemed more like a proof of a rational principle possessed by theanimal. The incident he had himself been witness to, and in his ownwoodlands. He related it thus:--
"I had strayed into the woods in search of a wild turkey with nothingbut my shot-gun, and having tramped about a good bit, I sat down upon alog to rest myself. I had not been seated live minutes when I heard arustling among the dead leaves in front of me. I thought it might bedeer, and raised my gun; but I was greatly disappointed on seeing somehalf dozen of my own hogs make their appearance, rooting as they wentalong.
"I paid no more heed to them at the time; but a few minutes after, myattention was again drawn to them, by seeing them make a sudden rushacross a piece of open ground, as if they were in pursuit of something.
"Sure enough they were. Just before their snouts, I espied the longshining body of a black snake doing its best to get out of their way.In this it succeeded, for the next moment I saw it twisting itself up apawpaw sapling, until it had reached the top branches, where it remainedlooking down at its pursuers.
"The snake may have fancied itself secure at the moment, and so thoughtI, at least so far as the hogs were concerned. I had made up my mind tobe its destroyer myself, and was just about to sprinkle it with shot,when a movement on the part of one of the hogs caused me to hold backand remain quiet. I need not tell you I was considerably astonished tosee the foremost of these animals seize the sapling in its jaws and jerkit about in a determined manner, as if with the intention of shaking offthe snake! Of course it did not succeed in this, for the latter waswound around the branches, and it would have been as easy to have shakenoff the bark.
"As you all know, gentlemen, the pawpaw--not the pawpaw
(_Caricapapaya_), but a small tree of the _anonas_ or custard apple tribe,common in the woods of western America--is one of the softest and mostbrittle of our trees, and the hog seemed to have discovered this, for hesuddenly changed his tactics, and instead of shaking at the sapling,commenced grinding it between his powerful jaws. The others assistedhim, and the tree fell in a few seconds. As soon as the top branchestouched the ground, the whole drove dashed forward at the snake; and inless than the time I take in telling it, the creature was crushed anddevoured."
After hearing the singular tale, our conversation now returned to thehog we had just "jumped." All agreed that it must be some stray fromthe plantations that had wandered thus far from the haunts of men, forthere was no settlement within twenty miles of where we then were.
Our trapper guides stated that wild hogs are frequently found in remoteparts, and that many of them are not "strays," but have been "littered"and brought up in the forest. These are as shy and difficult toapproach as deer, or any other hunted animals. They are generally of asmall breed, and it is supposed that they are identical with the speciesfound throughout Mexico, and introduced by the Spaniards.
