FERAL: A Hog Hunter's Diary
It was late July, a little after 1 am in Kaufman County here in Texas and it was brutally hot. I was slowly making my way into a pasture ringed by dense woods. The coastal hay had just been cut and the South wind was light, and in my face. If I could only bottle this smell. Wearing my Bug Tamer Bug suit, I was de-scented with my .300 blackout rifle across my chest. Making it to the tree line, I was weaving through the crunch of dry summer leaves, stopping every 25 feet to listen. From the tree line 70 yards out and at my 10 o'clock, I hear a distinct whoosh of leaves. I take a knee.
The rustling of twigs accentuated with low, sharp grunts, signaled the arrival of a sounder (family) of hogs, ready to churn the Texas black dirt for the juicy grubs, just below the surface. Chin nearly to the ground, I let a full minute pass before I raise my thermal scope to see 9 hogs at my 12 o'clock.
It had been 3 years since my conversion from hunting with predator lights to thermal and it still feels like cheating. I see everything, 600 yards in every direction. From 2500 lb. steer to tiny moles dancing in the dirt; crisp silhouettes bathed in the warm green of my Pulsar rifle scope. The silent buzz of my watch tells me my friend adrenaline has joined the party and my heart rate has jumped above 100 bpm.
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FERAL: A Hog Hunter's Diary
It was late July, a little after 1 am in Kaufman County here in Texas and it was brutally hot. I was slowly making my way into a pasture ringed by dense woods. The coastal hay had just been cut and the South wind was light, and in my face. If I could only bottle this smell. Wearing my Bug Tamer Bug suit, I was de-scented with my .300 blackout rifle across my chest. Making it to the tree line, I was weaving through the crunch of dry summer leaves, stopping every 25 feet to listen. From the tree line 70 yards out and at my 10 o'clock, I hear a distinct whoosh of leaves. I take a knee.
The rustling of twigs accentuated with low, sharp grunts, signaled the arrival of a sounder (family) of hogs, ready to churn the Texas black dirt for the juicy grubs, just below the surface. Chin nearly to the ground, I let a full minute pass before I raise my thermal scope to see 9 hogs at my 12 o'clock.
It had been 3 years since my conversion from hunting with predator lights to thermal and it still feels like cheating. I see everything, 600 yards in every direction. From 2500 lb. steer to tiny moles dancing in the dirt; crisp silhouettes bathed in the warm green of my Pulsar rifle scope. The silent buzz of my watch tells me my friend adrenaline has joined the party and my heart rate has jumped above 100 bpm.
4.95 In Stock
FERAL: A Hog Hunter's Diary

FERAL: A Hog Hunter's Diary

by T.B. Cox
FERAL: A Hog Hunter's Diary

FERAL: A Hog Hunter's Diary

by T.B. Cox

eBook

$4.95 

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Overview

It was late July, a little after 1 am in Kaufman County here in Texas and it was brutally hot. I was slowly making my way into a pasture ringed by dense woods. The coastal hay had just been cut and the South wind was light, and in my face. If I could only bottle this smell. Wearing my Bug Tamer Bug suit, I was de-scented with my .300 blackout rifle across my chest. Making it to the tree line, I was weaving through the crunch of dry summer leaves, stopping every 25 feet to listen. From the tree line 70 yards out and at my 10 o'clock, I hear a distinct whoosh of leaves. I take a knee.
The rustling of twigs accentuated with low, sharp grunts, signaled the arrival of a sounder (family) of hogs, ready to churn the Texas black dirt for the juicy grubs, just below the surface. Chin nearly to the ground, I let a full minute pass before I raise my thermal scope to see 9 hogs at my 12 o'clock.
It had been 3 years since my conversion from hunting with predator lights to thermal and it still feels like cheating. I see everything, 600 yards in every direction. From 2500 lb. steer to tiny moles dancing in the dirt; crisp silhouettes bathed in the warm green of my Pulsar rifle scope. The silent buzz of my watch tells me my friend adrenaline has joined the party and my heart rate has jumped above 100 bpm.

Product Details

BN ID: 2940186107644
Publisher: Barnes & Noble Press
Publication date: 03/07/2024
Sold by: Barnes & Noble
Format: eBook
Sales rank: 594,587
File size: 11 MB
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About the Author

Growing up in McKinney, Texas as Carey Cox’s son meant mastering the art of forming a perfectly round 4’ deep hole using a post hole digger. “I was Dad’s go-to labor solution when he needed one of his industrial real estate signs erected, and most often right after Saturday morning football practice”.
"In my family, we had a name to represent, role models to emulate and life lessons to be learned". Not least among those lessons were the principles of being stirred at 3:30 am to re-wind the extension cord that was left with a twist in it or being pressed into mowing the yard, as the cure-all to any complaints of pain or discomfort.
"When I was a junior in high school, I brought 3 teammates home after practice for a snack. Dad comes home, hands out 4 rakes and puts us all to work leveling mulch."
The Cox family was a home by 6 for dinner, 10 pm weekend curfew, church every Sunday, Camping, Colorado ski trips every spring break, Monty Python quoting, motorcycle riding, sprint car racing, hunting, fishing, community involved, hard working kind of small town Texas sort of family. "I was fully engaged in all activities but above all for me was and has been my love of hunting."
An avid hunter and sportsman for over 45 years, Cox has focused exclusively on the pursuit of wild and feral hogs in Texas since 2008. He is a Real Estate Broker and investor in Dallas, Texas, husband of 28 years to wife Tish and has two daughters recently graduated from The University of Oklahoma and Southern Methodist University.
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