With that experience, I have bow-hunted, and toyed with thoughts of hangun hunting or black powder. Why not? The emphasis is more on the process than the outcome.
Which brings me to yesterday. Hoping the rain would stop, I left work early and got to the bottomland by mid afternoon. Good, soft, quiet stalking under the putter patter of the drizzle.
With my back to a swollen creek, I heard deep, guttural grunting and squealing, and here they came. A long line of wild hogs, about 70 yards away, across a tributary. Maybe fifteen hogs, mostly black with Russian-looking features. There were all ages, including some huge boars, and some sows with piglets.
I was on foot, carrying an open sighted 30-30, loaded with four rounds. Also carrying a concealed 5-shot revolver. When I first saw them, I was thinking about the logistics of dragging one out, and could I get over that tributary, etc. But after a few moments, I realized that this collection of hostiles could, if they wanted, probably overpower me. Never felt this before. Vulnerable.
At a similar moment of revelation, Custer sent a message “Benteen: Come on. Big village. Be quick. Bring [ammunition] packs. P.S. Bring packs.” For my part, I said goodbye to thoughts of future handgun hunting and black powder. Maybe something with a 30-round magazine.