FIRST ENCOUNTER
Seventy-five years of selective breeding put to the test, in South Texas.
"Going to a hog"
Initially, I had my doubts that our young Dogos should be allowed to hunt freely with the other two hounds that we were using. At least not until they gained enough training in the woods to get beyond the "rookie" stages of their hunting careers. Not because I doubted their capabilities, but because the life expectancy of a catch dog is not very long. The loss of even one Dogo would be a major set back for us. From the articles I had read about the Dogos In Argentina, I gathered that they were used chiefly for this mission. Although I knew the breed was designed to perform the entire duty from start to finish, I was not prepared to take any unnecessary risk with our Dogos at that time. We felt that during the first few hunts, the Dogos should be kept on a lead until we could verify the size of the hog and amount of danger involved with the capture. These dogs were still young, two of them were barely over a year old and the other Just under two.
As it worked out, the two bitches came into season and were bred, so the decision was made not to hunt either of them until after their puppies were past weaning age. As a result, Zulu (our male) was the first of our Dogos to encounter a hog in the wild. We took him on one or two hunts before he actually got the opportunity to assist in a catch in the hog's domain. It was obvious that the first thing that he needed to learn was to deal with the elements here in South Texas. Its just like they say, always very hot and sometime humid and everything in the woods either bites you, sticks you, or stings you. It didn't take long to find out what these dogs are made of, In only a few hunting trips I realized the potential waiting to be released. On one particular night, we were in a pretty massive thicket and Zulu seemed to take it a little easy at first, carefully picking his way through the cactus and thorn bushes. But the instant we jumped a hog, he didn't seem to know the thorns existed. He literally pulled me through the thickest brush imaginable trying to go with the other dogs. The other hounds had jumped a hog and were running away from us at a pretty good pace. It was everything I could do to restrain Zulu. We were making our way toward the other dogs as fast as possible, but that was not satisfying the desires of this massive white dog at the end of my lead. He could tell that the other dogs were in hot pursuit and he wanted in on the race.
Soon the dogs bayed and we came to a little clearing in the brush and I asked Leroy, to take Zulu so I could get to the other dogs faster to see what they were holding at bay. Leroy said he would hold Zulu back until I signaled for him. Then my Uncle Kenneth and I took off running in the direction of the other dogs. As usual, the closer we got the thicker the brush became. We slowed and split up when we got to within thirty or forty yards of the dogs. They had the hog bayed and if he heard us coming, he may break and run again. As I got closer I could here small limbs snapping and teeth popping together, so I knew this was no small pig. When I got close enough to see the action, I could tell the hog had taken cover inside a clump of prickly pear cactus. It must have been twenty feet in diameter and at least ten feet tall. I could vaguely see Kenneth's light on the other side, and he too was trying to see what was going on inside there. I quietly moved In to get a closer look, I could tell that it was a good size hog, but I couldn't see him yet. All I knew at this point was I wasn't going to call to Leroy to release Zulu, YET - I was in no position to get a hold of a back leg and this appeared to be a good size boar. As I shined my light toward the action, I knelt down and could barely see the back legs of the hog through a tunnel in the cactus. The two bay dogs were keeping him busy by barking in his face.
Unexpectedly, my flashlight went out. Then I heard a bunch of rustling around then a dog yelped as she got cut or thrown into the pear. The hog grunted and snorted and then another yelp and I could tell the hog was about to break bay. As I backed off, I quickly felt around in the dark for a little sapling that I knew was only a few feet behind me and pulled myself up into the fork of the tiny tree. I was barely three feet off the ground. Luckily I found it when I did, because the hog came straight in my direction. As he got right under me one of the dogs nipped him on the tail end and he turned to fight back. By then, I was able to get my flashlight working again and could see what was going on. Knowing I'd be right there if Zulu needed my help, I yelled for Leroy to turn him loose. I figured that Leroy must be getting pretty close to us by then.
Suddenly out of nowhere came this large white figure plunging through the brush and hit the boar in midair. At that instant the hog began to squeal, and I think it was more from the shock than anything else. The other dogs simultaneously came into the picture as I sprang from the sapling and reached for a back leg. Kenny appeared from the other side and we threw the beast to the ground with Zulu still attached to the top of his head. Ken tied the hog's legs together, and I removed Zulu from his scalp. "Where in the heck did he come from?" Ken asked, as he looked down at Zulu. I just smiled and said, "Did you see the collision when he hit that hog?" That was one hell of an impact.
Soon the rest of our hunting party arrived, and I described what had taken place. My dad explained how he and Zulu got caught up in a barbed-wire fence. Then we all accessed the damages. The two bay dogs took several stitches. Kenny and I both needed many cactus thorns removed from places I'd rather not mention, and the hog needed some minor repairs to the top of his head. All Zulu needed was a drink of water and a pat on the back for a job well done.
The boar weighed about two hundred pounds and had about three inch tusks. He was no record-breaking hog, but he was not bad for Zulu's first bout in the woods. Plus, he was big and mean enough to do serious damage to the dogs had we not been able to get there when we did.
