unlikelyclay.com

It has become a ritual now. Whenever we go to Florida, my son goes hog hunting with his cousins.   Jake and Sid are near professional grade when comes to hog hunting, at least in its Florida manifestation.

I should explain here - some hunt hogs with dogs and guns in broad daylight.  Every Florida hog hunter I have known hunts at night, with good tracking dogs and good catch dogs and a stout piece of rope, so the hog can be tied and then lugged back to the truck.  Jake and Sid then sell the hogs to a man who turns them loose on his land, where other people hunt them for money.  The hog has another chance to escape, so all is far in love, war, and hog hunting.

Gina wanted to see what hog hunting was all about, so on the second night we were in Florida, she, Hannah, Abram, and myself joined the hunting gang, which consisted of six high school and middle boys. 

We turned out the dogs and rode through the pasture, shining big spot lights, waiting to see the flash of gleaming hog’s eyes in the dark.  After 30 minutes we heard the dogs baying, and off went the boys.   We followed, and found them sitting on top of 90 pound hog - a little one.

Then I found out they did things different than I did back in the day - instead of tying the hog up and carrying him, two of the bigger boys (I found out later they both played football) grabbed a back leg and began to drag the hog back to the truck.

What I learned was this:  hogs do not like to be drug backwards.  The hog was squealing and grunting up a storm as his stubby front legs furiously back peddled.  

As I walked along in the moonlight, listening to the hog squeal and bellow, this thought entered my mind:  Some people are just like a hog - they only come to Jesus kicking and squealing. 

I wonder if that thought came from God?

This entry was posted on Tuesday, November 27th, 2007 at 1:24 am and is filed under Ranch. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.