Country Living · Farm · Wildlife

Hog Wild!


Hogs! And wild hogs at that!

After a long absence, I am happy to catch you up on what’s happening in my world.  So, if you like, read on…

Back on the farm, we notice deep ruts randomly scattered around the yard surrounding the farmhouse.  Never having been a problem previously, it now appears these nocturnal night-scavengers have taken to “rooting” on our farmland.  It dawns on me perhaps that’s what I saw the last time Glenn and I were here.  We had arrived late and it was already dark as we pulled into the yard at the rear of the farmhouse.  After an exhausting day preparing to leave the city, and after the long drive to the farm, we decided to just relax on the front porch with our drinks. (As my little grandson likes to say, “let’s have a party on the porch!)”

 We sat on the rockers, under a starry sky, enjoying the quietness of a rural Georgia night, pexels-photo-355887.jpeg

I saw something small and black run along the dirt road in the bright moonlight.  Not used to seeing critters of any sort, it caught my attention.  I sat up. Glenn peered into the darkness, too.  Not able to  distinguish what it was exactly, I guessed a cat.  Hmm…a feral cat? It dissapeared into the night.  We have seen the occasional rabbit cross the yard, and I’m sure there’s a bunny family living in the old goat field, but other than that we have not seen any animals around the farm, wild or not.


After googling description of torn up yards, Glenn determined that oh boy, we probably had hogs. Wild hogs. Now what were we going to do? Going to shoot them was Glenn’s swift and sure answer.  Now this was not my line of thinking.  I was already in save our sows mode. I wanted to think of a plan to get rid of them in um, a manner that did not involve the words gun. shoot. kill.  No siree…this girl was mentally making a note to call the local county extension office and find out about traps and perhaps figure out a relocation plan for said trapped hapless hogs.  Or research natural deterrents, (mothballs, soap?) that might persuade these rooting tooting rascals to move onto other, more appetizing and appealing pastures.  Maybe.


My thoughts were interrupted by Glenn’s conversation with his mother.  Explaining the invasion of the pigs, she had only two words of advise: kill them.  Apparently the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree in these here parts…

Until next time…..