A Halloween Hog Hunt Story
Photo: Happy Halloween @PigProblem
There’s something different about the fields on Halloween night.
Even the wind moves quieter, like it knows something you don’t.
It started as a normal night — scopes charged, rifles zeroed, and the truck cutting through the South Georgia dark. The kind of stillness you only get in the middle of nowhere. But when we stopped at the first field, every hair on the back of my neck stood up. The sounder we’d been tracking was gone. Not scattered. Just… gone.
Through the thermal, the world was silent. No deer, no coyotes, not even a rabbit. Just a cold field and a heartbeat in my ears. I took one more slow scan — and that’s when I saw it.
A single hog. Massive. Standing dead center of the field.
No heat signature. No glow.
Just… black.
I blinked. Checked my scope. Looked again. Still there — a shape darker than the night itself, motionless, like it was watching.
When I looked away for half a second to tell my buddy, it vanished. No sound. No tracks. Just empty dirt and silence.
They say wild hogs are smart — smarter than most people think.
But every once in a while, there’s one that’s different.
One that shows up where it shouldn’t, moves without a sound, and disappears like smoke.
We still hunt that same field. And every Halloween, someone claims they see it again — the black hog with no heat signature, standing in the dark, waiting for the next light to find it.
If you’re brave enough, book your Hog Hunt.
Maybe this year, you’ll see it too.
