Saturday Night Fever

Smokin’ Wild Hogs by Moonlight in the Central Florida Wetlands

Saturday Night Fever

Smokin’ Wild Hogs by Moonlight in the Central Florida Wetlands

by Richard Baimbridge

Hog Hunting Under a Full Moon in the Wetlands — Beats the Heck Out of Disneyland

If there’s one thing I can say about my buddy Tom, a low-key guy from Pennsylvania who likes hunting about as much as polar bears like taking cold baths and eating seals, it’s that he’s rarely short on good ideas. It was December, and I was stuffing toe warmers into my hunting socks when he said in his thick PA accent, “Hey, uh…I know a place down in Florida where we can hunt hogs at night with ARs and thermal scopes. You wanna go?”

A few weeks later, I was loading the family into the car, ostensibly headed for a trip to Disneyland. I might have mentioned something to them about a hog hunt being involved, but the beach and Disneyland were clearly the main selling points. The kids were thinking Mickey Mouse and Pirates of the Caribbean, while I had visions of thermal hogs going poof! in the night.    

After a few days of enjoying the sights in Orlando, I put the kids to bed on Saturday night and hopped on I-75, heading north for about an hour towards Ocala National Forest. Once I turned off the highway and began driving down dark country roads, I noticed the night was cool and crisp, with perfectly clear skies and a bright full moon. Part of me was disoriented by going out hunting in the middle of the night, and part was filled with nervous anticipation.

I pulled up to the gate of the property, West Shore Outfitters, and sat alone in the dark until my buddy Tom arrived a few minutes later. Eventually, the guides came out to greet us and take us to the offices, where we were briefed, issued rifles and given a rundown on the $3000 Pulsar thermal scope. I received a stern warning not to drop the scope under any condition, even if being charged by a wild hog.

It wasn’t until after midnight that we climbed onto ATVs and headed out into the night, then began walking on foot down a long dirt road in total darkness, with only the moonlight to guide us. I’ve never been on a combat patrol, but this seemed about as close to what I imagine it might feel like. Up ahead, we heard squeals and rustling in the bushes. Our guide stopped, peered through his thermal monocular, then quickly set up a tripod. I switched on my scope and could see thermal shapes moving by the side of the road about 40 yards away. I singled one out, pulled the trigger, and heard the shot connect as the hog ran into the brush. “We’ll get him the way out,” the guide told me.  

Tom Sets His Thermal Sights on a Hog

“The guides shined massive spotlights into the swamp in search of my hog, as we drove through what seemed like the aftermath of a major hurricane… All the while, I kept asking myself, ‘Aren’t there alligators out here?’”

Tom was up next, and I noticed that I wasn’t in the least bit tired. The moon was like a supercharged battery hanging over us — I felt like I could walk the whole night if I had to. But within just 20 minutes, he had his sights on a hog and blasted it. It didn’t take more than ten steps before expiring, so we loaded it right up onto the ATV and headed back to base camp.

My hog situation was more complicated, requiring a trip out into the wetlands in a jacked-up jeep that looked like something out of the Wrong Turn horror movies. I jumped in the backseat as we drove off into mirky water spilling over the sides of the vehicle and onto my legs, despite us being a good five-feet above ground. The guides shined massive spotlights into the swamp in search of my hog, as we drove through what seemed like the aftermath of a major hurricane… All the while, I kept asking myself, “Aren’t there alligators out here?”

After an extensive search, we located the hog, loaded it into the jeep and headed back to base. Once the meat processing was done, I said goodbye to Tom and drove back to Orlando with a big ice chest full of pork chops, making it back just before sunrise.

The full moon faded into dawn, as I settled in for some sleep before the kids could wake up. I knew they’d wanna hear all about the hunt first thing in the morning. It took me back to my younger days of staying out all night, and sneaking back home before my parents knew I was gone. Saturday Night Fever, Florida-style… As I got in bed, I saw a message from Tom on my phone: “Fun night man! You wanna go charter fishing tomorrow?” I laid my head down on the pillow, and fell asleep thinking, “Here we go again.”

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