OSSABAW ISLAND HUNT
As I stood, soaked in wet clothes, under an inadequate wooden shelter getting pelted by sideways blowing rain I thought how good a hot cup of black coffee and a biscuit would be, and about how I would enjoy neither of those things for the next week. Instead I would be tromping through the swampy palmetto sloughs that make up the terrain of Ossabaw Island. I was there to hunt hogs and deer with my nephew Steven. I was excited by the prospect of the hunt, but regretted not stopping at the McDonalds in Hinesville to fill up on one last time.
Ossabaw Island lies off the coast of Georgia twenty miles or so from Savannah. The island covers roughly 26,000 acres, much of it marshy swamp. Hogs and deer rule the island with a few feral donkees thrown in the mix. I had been warned though, it was illegal to shoot a donkee. Ossabaw's ownership had changed hands several times through the years. It had been used by the Guale Indians, Creek Indians, the Spanish, the English, antebellum planters, small tenant farmers, and wealthy Yankees, the last of which was Eleanor Torrey West. Today the state of Georgia owns the island, and allows a few quota hunts each year.
The turnout for this hunt was fair. There were maybe 50 or so kids with that many more adults. Each kid had to have an adult hunt with them, thus my presence. The first day on the island no hunting was allowed, and we had to wait around to attend the mandatory meeting given by DNR officials, as well as select our hunting spots. We signed up for our spot, a first come first serve process, that can lead to fisticuffs if someone's coveted spot is seen as taken unfairly. Fortunately, we were able to avoid any violence. At the meeting it was explained that everyone would leave camp by five every morning to hunt, and to please not shoot the donkeys.
The next morning the island was greeted with temperatures below freezing, and a swirling wind. I was dressed in all the dry clothes I could find, but I still shook for a while. After a chilling ride in the back of a DNR truck, Steven and I were dropped off at our spot. We waitied an our or so for the sun to come up, and then began our creep into the brush. Once we began walking it didn't take us long to spook our first hog, and a short time later a deer.
I was excited by seeing game, but frustrated by spooking the deer and hog. We were stalking slowly in a step-step-listen fashion, and soon our patience paid off. We had been following hog sign in and around numerous slough's for about two hours when suddenly there was a nice buck twenty five yards in front of us. Steven steadied the rifle, made a good shot, and after a few minutes of tracking we found the dead 9 point. I got turned around dragging the buck through the thick brush, but was eventually found by brother-in-law Steve, who also made the trip, and he pointed me back in the right direction.
After finally getting back to camp and unloading the deer, Steven and I almost immediatley went back out again. During this hunt we picked a different part of the same area to hunt. This time we picked our way around the edge of a marsh thick with hog sign. Shortly after stricking the sign the two of us were face to face with several piglets. They knew we were there, and after several minutes with neither side moving, the hogs backed into the tall grass of the marsh. I was afraid we had missed our opportunity, but a quick few minutes later, a big white sow showed up. Steven made another good shot, and we had an 80lb hog to drag back.
The next morning Steven and I again hunted around the marsh where we had killed the sow. We worked our way farther east than the afternoon before, and soon found a good stand of fallen acorns. This was the first time we had found any acorns in good numbers the whole trip. I felt confident we could get a hog there, and slowly moved forward. Soon enough we came upon a black boar rooting. Steven threw out another good shot, and we had another hog down.
That afternoon we agreed to switch spots with Steven's younger sister, Caroline, so that she might have a better shot at killing a nice hog. Caroline, only ten, had already killed a spike, and wanted to add to a hog to her total. The area Steven and I moved to was just as marshy and wet, with more hog sign. It didn't take us long before a 10-15lb piggy walked out on us. We stood motionless hoping a better pig would step out behind the younger one, when off to our right two deer suddenly appeared. Steven pivoted and shot taking the smaller deer through the heart, and dropping it there. I quatered the deer threw it the backpack and moved out.
The next day was our last to hunt, and we chose to stalk a new area. The area was shaped like an extended finger, and was bordered on both sides by water. There were three obvious choke points, and Steven and I had been advised to hunt nearest the third choke point, as nobody had hunted that far down all week.
Again we were dropped off early and had to wait an hour for sunrise. When the sun was up we began our familiar creep through the woods. Soon Steven spotted several piglets in front of us feeding, but there were no shooters in the bunch. We carefully stepped around them and kept moving forward. Just before the third choke point we found a bunch of big hogs relaxing near the edge of a pond. There were maybe seven in all four of which were shooters.
Just as we spotted the hogs, they sensed us, and began to get restless. They were sniffing the wind and beginning to move about cautiosly. A big black boar was the last to rise, and he paid for his laziness. Steven made another good shot, and the boar fell dead.
That night back at camp everyone celebrated when Steven's younger brother, 8 year old Jack, brought an 8point buck back to camp. Steven's other brother, Matthew also killed a nice hog, and Caroline had shot one, but he couldn't be retrieved. The hunt had gone wonderfully and I hope to have the opportunity to do it again soon.
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