This June marked the 6th year that we held a couples hunt with Hoppy Kempfer of Osceola Outfitters in Deer Park, Florida. It started back in 2003 with a couples hunt put on by Ralph and Vicki Cianciarulo from Archer’s Choice (thanks now and always, R&V) and we’ve kept it up every year with some minor lineup tweaks. This year, Bryan and Judy and Heather and I made our way down to Florida representing the original couples from the first year, and met with Mike Frosty and Debbie (who came down last year after winning a NWTF raffle at Bryan’s home chapter banquet).
Everybody was scheduled for one gator and at least one hog, which works well for the way we run the hunt – family style. Ever eat a restaurant where they bring big heaping plates of food to your table and everybody takes a little of everything in turn? Well, that how we roll in FLA. We ride around together, with each person taking a turn at spotting and stalking, running behind the dogs, or looking for likely gators. We take turns running cameras, carrying calls, driving boats and buggies, and helping to haul dead hogs out of swamps. It works great because there is never a lack of hogs or gators at Hoppy’s place, and he can put you on them in record time. It also helps that we’re all in it for the fun, so no one is trying to make any record book.
The first morning started out with Heather and me riding with our guide Mike while everyone else was riding with Hoppy looking for hogs. After I busted a stalk on a dozen pigs feeding in a cow pasture, we got in the truck and started cruising to the next pasture when we saw something large and black walking through the tall grass. Mike stopped the truck and as I brought by binoculars up, Mike yelled “it’s not a hog, it’s a gator and he’s pushing 10 ft!”. We had lucked out and caught a gator moving from one of the small canals to the bigger swamp.
Mike and I walked up on the alligator and found him to be in a foul temper. He turned to face us with a loud hiss, and rose up on his legs as he puffed his body up. Mike and I separated and got to about 10 o’clock and 2 o’clock on the gator. I drew by bow, settled by top pin behind his shoulder and let fly. The gator spun as he snapped at the arrow, whipping his tale through the grass and hissing even more. Even though I was shooting, the gator had take a monster sized dislike to Mike. Wherever Mike went, the gator turned to face him, hiss, and rise up off the ground. So Mike became bait. Mike moved in a circle until the alligator gave us the shot we wanted, and I put another arrow through his shoulder. The gator spun, rolled, broke both arrows, and starting pouring blood from his side. We waited a few minutes and then put two lines on the gator. Mike stepped on his head, and I cut his brain stem with knife. We’d been hunting for less than 2 hours, and I had a 9’-8” gator in the truck.
As a group, we put 3 more gators down by the evening hunt. Judy whacked a gator that topped 8 feet with her bow in a canal, and Bryan and Frosty took 6’10” and 6-1” gators with their 44 magnums in the same pond. This hunt was marked by a 5 shot volley at the same gator as Frosty was learning the finer points of a newly purchased pistol, an 80 foot cast by Mike the guide to snag a gator with a line, and that same gator coming up on the bank twice to send hunters and guides scrambling.
After a brief lunch and briefer nap, Frosty and I headed to the stand while the others waited for dark to go do some bowfishing for gators. Debbie nailed a one that was a little over 7 feet with her crossbow and they finished him with a bang stick. Heather took her turn at the front of the boat, but the gators were dropping under faster than they could get the boat on them. Mike and I struck out at the stands that evening, but our day’s tally was 5 gators and that ain’t bad.
The next morning, Heather, Debbie, Judy, and Bryan took a trip with Hoppy looking for hogs while Frosty headed to a stand and I rode with Mike the guide looking for hogs. Heather managed to stalk up to a feeder and put a Mercedes Benz logo through a 80 pound boar, and Frosty worked on finding the range again with his pistol. He started shooting at a good sized sow and ended up with two crock pot pigs as collateral damage. He promptly swore off handgun hunting and switched to a bow for the rest of the weekend. If you’re interested in a S&W Model 629, I know where you can find a bargain.
That evening, Frosty headed for a stand with a bow and came up back with much better results. He brought back a good sized hog that made a short dash after being hit with an arrow, but was found pretty quickly. Hoppy and Debbie stalked up on a feeder and spotted a really nice boar. Debbie laid it out with her crossbow and found some outstanding teeth on it. As they loaded up in the truck to come pick me up from the stand, they spot an alligator in the edge of a small lake. Heather ran through her arrows (and borrowed one from Judy), but finally brought her 7 foot alligator in. The only thing I found that evening was a passel of mosquitoes and a small boar too smart to come into bow range.
That evening, we broke bread with the hunting group and the Cianciarulo’s who had arrived that afternoon to prep for a few days of hunting and filming. They’ve had a rough spring, hunting wise, and seemed glad to laugh and BS for a while.
All the literate Florida hogs read their horoscopes the next morning and realized it was a good day to hide. The illiterate hogs didn’t fare so well. We agreed to split up for about an hour – Heather and I went with Mike and the rest of the crew jumped on the swamp buggy with Hoppy and the dogs.
Mike and I walked up to a feeder in the midst of a palmetto field and found a group of about 10 hogs under the feeder. I snuck up to the edge of the clearing, picked a about a 60 pound boar and sent 426 grains of deadly muzzy tipped fury hurtling through the bottom of his heart. Sorry – had some good BS in me, and it had to come out. Anyways, brother boar made it about 12 yards into the palmetto before giving the death groan. Tracking took 30 seconds, and then we were off to join the rest of the group on the buggy for the death of hogs.
If there is a better way to spend a morning than riding a swamp buggy through the pastures and swamps of central Florida, listening to the sound of the hog dogs baying and your hunting buddies cracking jokes, I cannot imagine it. Frosty even got to drive, but I don't think he liked it much.
Judy had already taken a good boar when we tracked the buggy down in the sod fields. I had taken everything I was intending on taking, so I got to run cameras for everyone that was left. Bryan was up first, and we let the dogs go into a cypress head and struck hogs within minutes. Bryan took two with his bow.
We took a short pitstop to tape up a blown out snake boot, and then went at it again.
We struck another evil little boar with hair bristling and teeth popping that Judy took with a bow, followed by another good boar that Debbie took with her crossbow.
We had a good haul that morning (6 boars by about 9:30). We were heading back to the skinning shed when one of the dogs went off again, and we jumped off the buggy and headed into the woods. The dogs bayed up several hogs that rallied and then started chasing the dogs back to us. Bryan executed the best pistol shot I have ever seen – dead in the middle of the forehead on a boar at about 15 yards, and then we chased again after another sow. We ended up taking the sow down in a story that requires a good single malt Scotch and hunters only in the audience. Final tally for the day – 8 hogs (7 boars and one sow) among four hunters. We were done by 10:20 am and ready for a nap, and a dinner of T-bones and NY strips compliments of Frosty.
Two and a half days felt like a very good week. 6 gators, 13 hogs, and a million stories.
This thing is getting long as it is, but I feel guilty for leaving out the jokes, the bloopers, the cool parts of other folks hunts that I skipped, the camaraderie that comes with sharing a camp with close friends, the 800 other cool pictures and the loads of video. The only thing that compares is – well, next year.
Everybody was scheduled for one gator and at least one hog, which works well for the way we run the hunt – family style. Ever eat a restaurant where they bring big heaping plates of food to your table and everybody takes a little of everything in turn? Well, that how we roll in FLA. We ride around together, with each person taking a turn at spotting and stalking, running behind the dogs, or looking for likely gators. We take turns running cameras, carrying calls, driving boats and buggies, and helping to haul dead hogs out of swamps. It works great because there is never a lack of hogs or gators at Hoppy’s place, and he can put you on them in record time. It also helps that we’re all in it for the fun, so no one is trying to make any record book.
The first morning started out with Heather and me riding with our guide Mike while everyone else was riding with Hoppy looking for hogs. After I busted a stalk on a dozen pigs feeding in a cow pasture, we got in the truck and started cruising to the next pasture when we saw something large and black walking through the tall grass. Mike stopped the truck and as I brought by binoculars up, Mike yelled “it’s not a hog, it’s a gator and he’s pushing 10 ft!”. We had lucked out and caught a gator moving from one of the small canals to the bigger swamp.
Mike and I walked up on the alligator and found him to be in a foul temper. He turned to face us with a loud hiss, and rose up on his legs as he puffed his body up. Mike and I separated and got to about 10 o’clock and 2 o’clock on the gator. I drew by bow, settled by top pin behind his shoulder and let fly. The gator spun as he snapped at the arrow, whipping his tale through the grass and hissing even more. Even though I was shooting, the gator had take a monster sized dislike to Mike. Wherever Mike went, the gator turned to face him, hiss, and rise up off the ground. So Mike became bait. Mike moved in a circle until the alligator gave us the shot we wanted, and I put another arrow through his shoulder. The gator spun, rolled, broke both arrows, and starting pouring blood from his side. We waited a few minutes and then put two lines on the gator. Mike stepped on his head, and I cut his brain stem with knife. We’d been hunting for less than 2 hours, and I had a 9’-8” gator in the truck.
As a group, we put 3 more gators down by the evening hunt. Judy whacked a gator that topped 8 feet with her bow in a canal, and Bryan and Frosty took 6’10” and 6-1” gators with their 44 magnums in the same pond. This hunt was marked by a 5 shot volley at the same gator as Frosty was learning the finer points of a newly purchased pistol, an 80 foot cast by Mike the guide to snag a gator with a line, and that same gator coming up on the bank twice to send hunters and guides scrambling.
After a brief lunch and briefer nap, Frosty and I headed to the stand while the others waited for dark to go do some bowfishing for gators. Debbie nailed a one that was a little over 7 feet with her crossbow and they finished him with a bang stick. Heather took her turn at the front of the boat, but the gators were dropping under faster than they could get the boat on them. Mike and I struck out at the stands that evening, but our day’s tally was 5 gators and that ain’t bad.
The next morning, Heather, Debbie, Judy, and Bryan took a trip with Hoppy looking for hogs while Frosty headed to a stand and I rode with Mike the guide looking for hogs. Heather managed to stalk up to a feeder and put a Mercedes Benz logo through a 80 pound boar, and Frosty worked on finding the range again with his pistol. He started shooting at a good sized sow and ended up with two crock pot pigs as collateral damage. He promptly swore off handgun hunting and switched to a bow for the rest of the weekend. If you’re interested in a S&W Model 629, I know where you can find a bargain.
That evening, Frosty headed for a stand with a bow and came up back with much better results. He brought back a good sized hog that made a short dash after being hit with an arrow, but was found pretty quickly. Hoppy and Debbie stalked up on a feeder and spotted a really nice boar. Debbie laid it out with her crossbow and found some outstanding teeth on it. As they loaded up in the truck to come pick me up from the stand, they spot an alligator in the edge of a small lake. Heather ran through her arrows (and borrowed one from Judy), but finally brought her 7 foot alligator in. The only thing I found that evening was a passel of mosquitoes and a small boar too smart to come into bow range.
That evening, we broke bread with the hunting group and the Cianciarulo’s who had arrived that afternoon to prep for a few days of hunting and filming. They’ve had a rough spring, hunting wise, and seemed glad to laugh and BS for a while.
All the literate Florida hogs read their horoscopes the next morning and realized it was a good day to hide. The illiterate hogs didn’t fare so well. We agreed to split up for about an hour – Heather and I went with Mike and the rest of the crew jumped on the swamp buggy with Hoppy and the dogs.
Mike and I walked up to a feeder in the midst of a palmetto field and found a group of about 10 hogs under the feeder. I snuck up to the edge of the clearing, picked a about a 60 pound boar and sent 426 grains of deadly muzzy tipped fury hurtling through the bottom of his heart. Sorry – had some good BS in me, and it had to come out. Anyways, brother boar made it about 12 yards into the palmetto before giving the death groan. Tracking took 30 seconds, and then we were off to join the rest of the group on the buggy for the death of hogs.
If there is a better way to spend a morning than riding a swamp buggy through the pastures and swamps of central Florida, listening to the sound of the hog dogs baying and your hunting buddies cracking jokes, I cannot imagine it. Frosty even got to drive, but I don't think he liked it much.
Judy had already taken a good boar when we tracked the buggy down in the sod fields. I had taken everything I was intending on taking, so I got to run cameras for everyone that was left. Bryan was up first, and we let the dogs go into a cypress head and struck hogs within minutes. Bryan took two with his bow.
We took a short pitstop to tape up a blown out snake boot, and then went at it again.
We struck another evil little boar with hair bristling and teeth popping that Judy took with a bow, followed by another good boar that Debbie took with her crossbow.
We had a good haul that morning (6 boars by about 9:30). We were heading back to the skinning shed when one of the dogs went off again, and we jumped off the buggy and headed into the woods. The dogs bayed up several hogs that rallied and then started chasing the dogs back to us. Bryan executed the best pistol shot I have ever seen – dead in the middle of the forehead on a boar at about 15 yards, and then we chased again after another sow. We ended up taking the sow down in a story that requires a good single malt Scotch and hunters only in the audience. Final tally for the day – 8 hogs (7 boars and one sow) among four hunters. We were done by 10:20 am and ready for a nap, and a dinner of T-bones and NY strips compliments of Frosty.
Two and a half days felt like a very good week. 6 gators, 13 hogs, and a million stories.
This thing is getting long as it is, but I feel guilty for leaving out the jokes, the bloopers, the cool parts of other folks hunts that I skipped, the camaraderie that comes with sharing a camp with close friends, the 800 other cool pictures and the loads of video. The only thing that compares is – well, next year.
Comment