MARSH TACKY HUNTS

  About Hunting Wild Boar

    
    Wild boar hunting was considered a favorite sport among the nobles in Europe for centuries. The wild boar was introduced to
    the United States in 1893 from supply boats. Today, feral hogs in many parts of our country have become a problem of
    epidemic proportion, according to reports made with the Department of Natural Resources. These aggressive animals
    vigorously compete for the natural food sources that would otherwise be available to deer, turkeys and other small game. They
    root up a lot of vegetation and consume everything they can access. 

    Dogs have been used to hunt boar since ancient times. Boar hunting dogs are loosely divided into two categories, bay
    dogs and catch dogs. Bay dogs are very vocal and harass the hog, working to keep it cornered until the catch dogs arrive.
    Catch dogs physically take hold of the boar. Once the catch dogs have physical control of the boar, they will hold it indefinitely
    until the hunter arrives.

    Bay dogs are typically Cur dogs such as the Leopard Cur, Rhodesian Ridgeback, Blackmouth Cur, Blue Lacy, Catahoula and
    trailing scent hounds such as the Walker Hound, Foxhound, Plott Hound and the Berner Niederlaufhund.
    Catch dogs are typically “Bully” breeds such as the American Bulldog, American Pit Bull Terrier, Staffordshire Bull Terrier and
    other molossers such as the Boxer, Dogo Argentino, Cane Corso and smaller Mastiff crosses.    

    From my many years of hunting wild boar in the swamps of South Carolina, I, David Grant have developed my own type of hog
    hunting dog, which I call a "Pee Dee game dog." My dogs are able to withstand the harsh conditions of hunting wild boar,
    especially in the summer time, which is when we get the most calls that someone has a hog problem. Most people
    don't venture out to hunt in 90-degree-plus weather. The Pee Dee game dog and the Marsh Tacky horse have become an
    efficient combination for hunting wild hogs.
 
    Saddle up and take a wild ride with us as we share our many hunting adventures - good and bad - on this page. Some will
    make you laugh, some will make you cry, and some will leave you completely amazed. 
    Because "Life's a Journey, not a Destination."   

    I got to go hunting with my uncle on my first horseback hog hunt the other day. What a rush! First of all, I am not very proficient
    on the back of a horse. I have ridden horses before while deer hunting and have done some joy riding, but nothing like I
    expected I would be riding on this day. There is a big difference from riding down a dirt road, open pasture, bean field, or cotton
    field versus through twelve foot of pines with briar patches lurking within. Then throw in some, well let's make that a lot of water
    with some ditches in the way, you set yourself up for some extreme riding. One of the main reasons I have not gone with Uncle
    David before now was that I worried about not being able to ride and keep up with him and the others. After today, I was told I
    did not have to worry about that anymore. But I am sure my uncle will show me plenty other ways to get thrown from a horse in
    the future. 

    We had gone earlier in the week to do a little scouting and to learn the lay of the land. This was a new piece of property that my
    uncle had gained permission to hunt on. While we were riding and looking for signs he would point and say, "I bet those hogs
    are laid up in there." Then he would throw a few words in the air that would make an eye brow of mine rise. As he would nod
    toward the young pines with a jungle of briars within he would state that we would probably be heading into there to stick a pig. I
    kept the statement to myself but I was thinking that there is no way we are going to ride a horse into there. The pine limbs alone
    looked as if they would not allow it. I expect we would dismount and walk from here, leaving the horses behind. Well, I should
    have known better from the years of growing up chasing waterfowl with my uncle. He could and would make a John Boat get
    into places that it was never designed to enter. Thanks Uncle David, my John Boat looks the way it does today because of you
    being my mentor!

    I showed up the morning of the hunt only to find everyone standing around waiting for me. Man do I hate when I'm the one
    holding up the show. I had left the house with plenty of time to spare but of course got turned around and had to do some
    backtracking and scratching the ole loggin, trying to remember where that darn turn was supposed to be. I started grabbing my
    stuff in a hurry and of course forgot the most important thing, the camera! I did manage to grab my back pack and actually took
    a quick glance at my bow. I had thought about strapping it over my back, just in case the perfect opportunity arose. Man, am I
    glad I did not. I can now picture one of the thousand limbs that rolled over my back snatching and picking me up off the horse. I
    am sure that the others would have had a good laugh with me dangling from a limb. I bet I would have sounded something like
    the pig I was going to hear in my near future. 

    The hunt started with a quick prayer and the release of the hounds. I felt like a true cowboy while mounting up. I could not help
    but think of the "real" cowboys back in the day, mounting up to head out on a round up. I looked around and saw Uncle David
    up on Sage, Mr. Marion Broach on Toogoodoo, Mr. Jeff Clark on Simpson, and Mr. Tom Skinner on Blue. I would be paired up
    with Chicora, which I would end up whispering many sweet nothings into his ear throughout the day. I was trying to use the
    same charm that I used on my wife. The kind of charm where we men try to talk our women out of one of those sweet kisses,
    but sound "cool" while doing so. I was hoping that I could persuade Chicora not to break my neck! So with the building of
    excitement an anticipation of the hunt, off I go. I allow Chicora to fall behind Sage, wondering what I am getting myself into. The
    first part of the hunt is going well and uneventful which allows me to build a little confidence while on the back of Chicora. I
    quickly learn that all I have to do is allow Chicora to stay behind Uncle David and Sage, hold on and get into the rhythm of
    ducking the many limbs that would pass over my head. (Again, I would picture the many scenes of cowboy movies where the
    guy is hanging from the limb and the horse keeps going.) Of course, this is why my uncle put me on Chicora. Wherever
    Sage went, Chicora would follow without hesitation. I was grateful for this but also a little nervous. I could not help but think of
    the areas that my uncle had pointed to the week before during our scouting trip. 

    We trodded along and the excitement built as we got closer to a food plot where we had seen the most hog signs during our
    earlier scouting expedition. Now to get into this food plot, there was a nice pretty road entering it about a hundred yards farther
    down. But of course the "game trails" would cross through a ditch before reaching the road access. Where does Uncle David
    point Sage? Yep, toward the ditch. Sage hesitates and starts receiving some persuasion with a slap or two from the uncle. You
    have to understand that I (being the smart guy that I am) realize that if Sage goes, you know is going to follow. So me being me,
    I am silently agreeing with Sage on this idea. So while Uncle David is wrestling with Sage, Jeff and Marion point their two horses
    that way and give it a try. Now of course, with Toogoodoo and Simpson seeing Sage acting up, like children, they decide to act
    up too. I am now witnessing three horses cutting circles, three men on their backs with the same determination I have when
    trying to get my 5-year-old to pick up her toys. The only thing I could do was stay out of the way and hope Chicora won't join in
    on the action. With each passing second it became more evident that I would most likely have to cross that ditch. While I am
    trying to mentally prepare myself for the event, I hear my saving Grace. I hear one of the hounds let out a sweet yelp; this
    immediately gets the attention of everyone and the "must cross ditch" mode switches to "HOG"! To my great relief we make a
    beeline to the easy way into the food plot I mentioned earlier. We start noticing even fresher signs and see why the dogs have
    struck. Seconds later we all hear a squeal of a pig and the throaty grunt of a sow. It was ON! I catch a glance of a pig turning
    and heading back into the briars and young pines. And what else do I see? Uncle David pointing Sage's nose into the briars
    straight in behind the dogs and hog. And of course, ole faithful Chicora doesn't hesitate to follow. So now my rhythm of ducking
    and dodging limbs has picked up a couple of notches. I am trying to eyeball every limb, briar and tree in front of me in a matter
    of milliseconds. During these seconds I noticed that Sage seemed to be a little fatter than Chicora. This observation had its
    importance in realizing I did not have to worry as much about the distance to the trees as originally thought. I did end up
    misjudging a briar or two by the looks of my right ear. I also learned why everyone else had leather gloves on; the ole hands of
    mine took a beating. As we started closing in on the commotion we could hear tht the dogs had the hog pinned down. Within
    seconds, Chicora was coming to a halt and Uncle David, Marion and Jeff were off their horses and right up there with the dogs.
    I held back and figured I would stay put at the safest place my mind was telling me. On the back of this horse! Of course,
    Marion noticed this, smiled and stated I should hop down and join the action. I think it was Marion who offered me to do the
    honors (mind could not process all the action fast enough), but I quickly declined after looking at the knives the others were
    carrying. I immediately understood that I needed to get myself a bigger knife and why. 

    So now, with one pig down and me surviving the action, I was feeling pretty good about this new way (to me) of hunting hogs.
    (Talking about a complete 180 from spot and stalking with a bow in hand!) With the marking of the dead pig with the GPS, we
    were off to hunt out another. As we fought to keep up with the dogs, I noticed that we were getting into a wet area within the
    young pines. We all know that one bad thing about going into a new area is that you have no way of knowing what to expect.
    We had ridden into an area that during an average year would have only been slightly wet but of course with all the recent rain,
    it had turned into a full blown bog! If you can picture an 8-year-old cutover with planted pines, throw a lot of briar patches and
    high grasses into the mix, you can get an idea of what we were dealing with. The visibility was not good because of the young
    pines and before we knew it, we were getting into trouble fast. The solid footing for the horses in a few inches of water went
    to bottomless muck in a foot of water. I noticed Chicora was struggling and within a few feet went down. My feet that were
    dangling in stirrups seconds before were now stuck in the mud under a foot of water. I just stepped out of my saddle and tried
    to help Chicora up. With much useless help from me, Chicora made it to his feet and started making his way on out. He did
    hesitate and looked at me as to ask, "Do you want to ride?" I guess, he read my eyes and saw that I had had enough for the
    moment and would wade myself out. While all this was happening I noticed Tom and Blue also struggling. Blue, being a bigger
    breed of horse, was catching it the worse of all the horses. Each struggle would put him deeper into the muck than the others. It
    did not take him long before he was stuck and slap worn out. He had run his marathon within yards and was going to have to
    dig in deep to get out of this mess. The road that we now desperately needed to reach was less than a hundred yards away but
    felt like miles to Blue, Tom and I. The one thing that gave me hope was that Sage, Toogoodoo, Simpson and Chicora (without
    his "driver") made it out. This had also opened up a path through  the hellish marsh with a jungle of briars growing within. Blue
    had gotten up several times to only bog right back down. This bottomless pit that we had found was about 20 feet wide. After
    that, the footing became solid enough for the horses to stand and slosh their way out. Blue still had 10 feet to go before he
    would be out of the worst of it. The entire time, I was amazed at how all the horses were mentally handling the situation. I never
    once saw any of them come unglued. All I could see was Ole Blue worn out and needing to take a breather. He was down again
    and could not move in the muck that had surrounded him. Then the unthinkable happened! Uncle David proceeded to ride
    Sage back into the hell hole (a testament of how tough Sage is) with Marion and Jeff wading back in on foot to lend a hand.
    They then decided we had to get Blue on his feet before this bad situation becomes any worse. Between the three of us we
    were able to get Blue rolled over from off his right side to sitting up favoring his left side. I then stood back and watched as
    Uncle David tied a rope from the saddle horn of Sage to the saddle horn of Blue. I watched as Sage obeyed the command and
    started to dig in and commence to giving Blue a pull. How my uncle stayed in that saddle and how Sage kept from tipping over I
    will never understand. It was the most exteme action I think I will ever see from a horse and a man. This action did not get Blue
    out but seemed to give him just enough motivation to get turned around and pointed in the right direction. After letting Blue and
    all of us men catch another breather, we commenced to pulling and tugging again. Marion pulling on the reins of Blue with Jeff
    slapping his rump. This again gave Blue just enough motivation to get up and start moving forward while watching Sage lead
    the way. With this last effort he was able to make it to solid ground and stay on his feet. Now I am worried that if Marion looses
    his footing, Blue would end up walking on top of him. I think Blue saw the path that Sage and the other horses had opened up
    for him and saw the light at the end of the tunnel. He was ready to get out of the hour of hell he had found himself in, and we all
    agreed. 

    Now that we all were on the road and solid ground, we took a quick break and to see if we could figure out our next move. While
    all this... mud boggin... had played out, the dogs had struck on two different hogs. Those were our missed opportunities, but we
    were determined to find some more. With a new game plan, we circled the area looking to see if the dogs could pick up on a
    hog that we had maybe run out. We made our way around the cutover and decided to try and circle back around to the main
    road. This way we would be covering/hunting a different area but making our way to retrieve the downed hog. As we got closer
    to the main road it started to get wetter and rougher. I was worried and thinking to myself, "Here we go again!" This time, luck
    would remain with us. We had stumbled into a small narrow drainage that ran to a tile under the main road. As we got closer to
    the road, the drainage got deeper. I looked down and could see that the water was starting to touch Chicora's belly. As I was
    thinking this is not good, I hear my uncle say nonchalantly that we may have to swim a little ways. I will admit that this got my
    attention and I started wondering what exactly "we" meant. I was going to watch him and just do as he does. I contemplated
    whether you're supposed to ride a swimming horse the same way as you ride a walking horse?? Well, our good Lord answered
    my silent prayer, because I ended up not having to find out how to stay on a swimming horse. As we came to the road, with the
    horses still in belly deep water, I was greeted with a ditch bank that was chest high to Chicora. I'm thinking there is no way we
    are getting up and out of this ditch. I watch Sage power his way up the bank and think to myself, "Never say never." With Sage
    now up on the road, my faithful Chicora tries to power his way up but at the very top loses his footing and drops to his knees.
    Again he allows me to step off before attempting to make his way on up the bank. He never panicked and seemed to take it all
    in stride. I remounted and watched as the other horses and riders struggled up and over. Finally we were all on the road and
    headed back to retrieve "the hardest working for pig in history!"

    Do you remember the ditch I mentioned earlier? The one that Sage did not want to cross? Well, we were now following
    alongside of it down the road. I heard Uncle David give a determined chuckle and mumble to Sage, "You and your ditch will
    meet again." I thought to myself, "I don't think you are going to get out of this one." Chicora and I were ready to jump a ditch,
    whether we wanted to or not. As we reach the crossing to the food plot, I watch as Sage's nose gets pointed toward that ditch
    again. Once again, here comes the scolding and rump slapping as Sage refuses. Both rider and horse determined to make the
    other give in. Well, as I watched, the rider won and Sage cleared the ditch. Then goes Simpson with Toogoodoo on his heels.
    All I did was hold on as Chicora did a side step or two getting everything just right and then over we went. I might have enjoyed
    it if not for the fear of loosing my grip on the horn of the saddle. We made our way back through the thick pines and briars. As I
    was getting back into the rhythm of dodging limbs, we made it to the hog we had come to retrieve. Jeff, Marion and Uncle David
    tied the hog off to the saddle horn of Sage and started dragging her on out. I again was amazed as Sage dragged that hog up
    and over logs, through briars and pines. I have come to the conclusion that the engineers that came up with the theory of 1hp
    shorted the power of a single horse. A 5hp Briggs and Stratton has nothing on Sage! As we made our way back to the ditch, I
    thought the horses know we will be heading back home soon. Each hopped over with a little more grace this time. 

    We were all tired and worn out, but what an experience! I have now ridden a horse through areas I never dreamed a horse
    could go. I did it without getting thrown or knocked off. And I bet there are not too many people who can say that they have
    stepped off a horse before. Am I ready to go again? You bet! Thank you, David Grant (Pee Dee Cowboy) for another life
    experience I will always remember and take to my grave.






  Seven at 66
   -- Posted on Friday, February 19, 2010 by David Grant    


    When my friend, Lloyd Richardson calls, I am like E.F. Hutton: I listen!! He called on a cold and blustery Tuesday afternoon in
    February and asked, "Dave, what do the hogs do on high water?" Me, I was thinking this is a trick question from Mr. Lloyd, who
    had forgotten more about the outdoors, flora and founa that I will ever learn, so I said, "Not meaning to be a smart &%$, but
    they usually swim to the highest hill!" "Well," he replied in his Southern gentlemanly way of speaking, "There're a bunch on my
    hill!" It was on! I said, "I will be there in the morning." Then he said those magic words: "I want to ride a Marsh Tacky and hunt
    with you." Mr. Lloyd is 66 years young and a lifelong outdoors man, so I was excited, but I have to admit, nervous about
    him coming along. Thoughts bounced around in my head: What if the dogs have an off day, what if the horses act like "horses",
    what if, what if!? Then I said to myself, "You are the Pee Dee Cowboy, shake it off!" I immediately got on the phone to my
    cronies to see who could hunt. Couple of young guys said no, they had to work. Well, in my mind, I was thinking "Did they not
    understand?" High water, great location and the Mr. Lloyd had personally called me. Geezh!! That's like John Wayne calling
    and saying he wants you to be in one of his movies!! (Josh, when you and Dustin read this... well, all I can say is next time you
    quit your job!!!)

    Well, folks, this was truly going to be an old-timers hunt. The Pee Dee Cowboy on DP, Marion Broach on Toogoodoo, Dickie
    Phillips on Mister and Mr. Lloyd on Sage. Folks, the Pee Dee Cowboy was the youngest in the group, and let's just say that this
    ol' boy has seen many a rodeo! On to the hunt. We turned loose at 9:30 a.m., and with a prayer to say "Thanks", we turned out
    our anxious Pee Dee curs, and I told our group, "Let's go at them from this side to try and keep the hogs from running out and
    across a dirt road." Wrong!!! We hadn't been in the saddle 10 minutes, and I heard Bill open up. Then I couldn't believe it, a --
    200-pound boar almost ran into the horses!! We were able to witness some great work by the dogs because they came right by
    us. Did I mention those Marsh Tacky horses? They didn't even flinch. I think I heard DP murmur something to Bill as he ran
    by: "Hey dude, catch him quick. I don't plan swimming the Big Pee Dee River to get your little butt back!" Bill must have heard
    him because they ran that boar about 300 yards, and he, the boar, made the mistake of trying the open woods. Wrong! They
    piled him up quickly. We all shouted those beloved words: Let's ride! We got to a really nice  200-pound boar, and before I
    could even blink, Marion had put the blade to him so quick -- he looked like Zorro! (Did I say we were old? I don't think so!!) We
    rode back to where we had struck the first hog, and BAM!! They struck another one, and once again, the hog almost ran into
    us. This ol' boar was a good one -- 300 pounds flying by on the hoof. If someone ever tells you, "Yeah, that will happen when
    pigs learn to fly", they ain't never seen a Pee Dee River boar run by them with a fine pack of Pee Dee curs on his tail!!! Well,
    this ol' boy thought he was a rabbit. He tried to put the slip on us, but in a matter of minutes, they piled him up! So much for
    my pack having a bad day. My hunting party went one way to the bay, but DP and I slipped right through a rabbit path and
    rode up to the bay. Wow!! That ol' boar wasn't 300 pounds -- but more! And he was a Grizzly Adams look-a-like. I slipped off
    DP in a way a cowboy would have been proud of and hollered, "Help!!! He's a good un!!!" While waiting on my help, I could see
    them tusks just a shining!! We put him away and just sat back and said, "Wow! We have only been hunting for 20 minutes."
    We, Marion and Dickie and myself would have quit right then. But then Mr. Lloyd said, "Let's ride. I will flank you and I will take
    you to where the hogs are!" Duh? I looked at Marion and Dickie and said in my best Pee Dee Cowboy language, "Well where
    the hell did we just come from?!" They said "shut up" politely and for me to get on my Tacky and ride and try if I could not talk!!!
    Imagine that... the Pee Dee Cowboy not talking...

    On to part Two of the hunt. We found Mr. Lloyd and followed him to the "hogs". Sure nuff, in about a 10-minute ride, we started
    seeing signs again. We heard the dogs bark, then a squeal!! Dickie said, "That squeal is real." You know I think he would take
    my spot if I would let him. I am supposed to be "man". Oh well, so much for job security. We rode hard up the bay, and I noticed
    Mr. Lloyd going another way?? We rode on and the dogs had caught a very mad 275-pound-plus sow. We put her away, and I
    leaped back on DP to "find" Mr. Lloyd. Well, find was the wrong word. He and Sage were going to another bay that we didn't
    hear in the onslaught of typical chaos that happens during the ride to a multiple bay! Aparently Sage had heard the other bay,
    and he knew the program: Go to the dogs! I think Mr. Lloyd thought Sage was being hard-headed and doing his thing, but he
    was going to the dogs he heard. Whether you are a first time reader or a veteran tacky junkie, you have heard us say our
    Tackies will go to where the dogs are barking. Just give them loose rein and they will go! The second hog was a nice almost
    already cleaned sow of about 150 pounds. We looked around and the dogs were gone again!! This time, the old elusive hog
    would win. We had the dogs on the GPS, but the hog got into deep water and swam and swam out into deeper water. I told our
    group, "I know they probably drowned a couple of smaller hogs but the bigger ones got away. Oh well, can't catch them all." On
    to the hunt. By this time, I was ready to leave some "seed" when Mr. Lloyd said, "There's still plenty left. Let's hunt!" 

    We were easing down a scenic high road, and I commented to the group that with all the high water, the road we were on
    probably was traveled by Native Americans and then early colonial settlers. And no doubt by Francis Marion slipping back to
    one of his infamous hideouts. Then Mr. Lloyd said he grew up hearing the stories and seeing the artifacts through the years.
    Then way ahead, I saw something in the road. We kept easing along, and we decided what we saw was pork!! A couple of them
    were porkamus maximus! I think the group wanted to ride hell bent for leather, but in my typical calm and cool manner (snicker),
    I said, "Let's just ride toward them quietly." We finally eased up to the spot we saw them and poof! They were gone! I thought I
    heard some dissension in the ranks, from the muffled "Umm! Uggh!" I heard. But true to form for the day, the dogs finally trailed
    them up, and we had a bay!!! Did I mention the water was high? We started to the bay and zoom! Out of nowhere came a pig
    flying by us! Correction: swimming by us! I hollered to Dickie to take the swimmer. Marion and I headed toward our bay. When
    we got close, I said they're across the road. Talk about a road block. We got to a wall of briars. Did I mention we were in three
    feet of water? I asked DP to push/swim through them. He didn't like the idea, but he did it anyway. We slipped through the
    briars and caught a nice little roasting pig. Then we headed back to Dickie and Mr. Lloyd to get their pig, but when we got to
    them, Dickie said, "We can't find the pig!" Not one to give up, I rode into the water/briars to investigate. Still no pig!
    We searched some more. Still no pig. Almost giving up, I had one dog still in the water showing bayed, so Marion and I rode into
    the water one more time. We could see movement in the water/briars about ten yards from us, so we pushed/swam the horses
    toward the movement, which was one of my young dogs, Bambino, on top of the now drowned pig. Talk about proud! He was so
    tired, he swam up to Marion and all he had to do was to reach out and slide him into the saddle. HIGH WATER HUNTING...
    MAN, IT IS DIFFERENT!!! 

    Ok, almost through! We headed back to the truck. We thought. We heard a bark, and we were off to the races. I was thinking,
    pig! Wrong. Porkamus maximus! Once we got through the "ocean", we had a whopping 350-pound barren sow. Pork chops!!!
    One more problem, how to get her out...  One big hog, one Marsh Tacky, one stout rope. We hooked the hog, and dallied the
    rope around the saddle horn and here we went. It took DP a few tries to get it going, but once he did, we brought her out. I
    really have noticed in the past year the strength DP has developped as he has matured. Just a little more folks. I told the group
    Sassy was on another hog, but we couldn't hear anything. Long story short, she and Tuck had another big hog but couldn't get
    it stopped. Sassy came back cut on the shoulder, one of the few times she has ever been cut. Man I felt so bad. I felt I let her
    down. She had her job done, but I didn't cowboy up enough. That makes me even more determined to follow my hunches and
    do my part. Savvy, grit -- tough words for a tough sport. A sport that will test a man's mettle and cull real quick -- inferior
    equipment, dogs and horses. Until next time...  

    Oh, and for the title "Seven at 66": Seven for the hogs caught; 66 for the number of years Llloyd Richardson has graced his
    family stomping grounds. Happy Birthday, Mr. Lloyd and Thanks for the memories. 







   Ekosan's First Hog Hunt under Saddle
   -- Posted on Friday, January 29, 2010 by Wylie Bell    


    There's one thing you need to know about the Pee Dee Cowboy David Grant, when he says, "Let's meet at 8:15", he really
    means 8 - if not sooner, 8:15 is when he's going to give up on you. 

    I didn't want to get left behind last Saturday, January 23, for my first hog hunt in several months, so I made sure I was ahead of
    schedule. I pulled into the Dunlap property at the same time as David (and mentally patted myself on the back). I brought with
    me Postel, one of CMTO's smaller gelings but who has the biggest heart of them all, and Ekosan, a 2-year-old filly who was
    about to experience her first hog hunt under saddle with 14-year-old Hunter Rogers. 

    Also riding that day were Travis Anderson on Chicora, whose woods name is "Chuck"; Josh Collins on the ever-steady Sage;
    Marion Broach on the big motor machine Toogoodoo; and Ricky Rogers on Blue, a Quarter Horse gelding who thinks he's a
    Marsh Tacky. David rode point on CMTO's stud DP, who could probably lead the hunting group with or without David aboard.
    DP knows his job when he hits the woods, and his focus never wavers, even with a young filly among the horses. After a prayer
    for a good hunt, we headed into the woods, which were swollen with bogs and mudholes from the rain the previous week. Plenty
    of hog tracks and rutting signs were etched in the mud. 

    The dogs got on some hogs almost immediately in a thick stand of pines and briars. David and DP blazed a path to the bay,
    where those Pee Dee curs had a good handle on an about 80-pound boar who never stood a chance. Hunter was given the
    honor of making the kill, which he did with much pride. He wanted some pictures to make sure "the kids at school" would believe
    he'd killed his first boar with his "bare hands". (I guess in a 14-year-old's mind, a knife with a 10 1/2 inch blade counts as bare
    hands, but I wasn't going to argue with him. Not when he was the one holding the knife.) With that hog dispatched and strung
    up in a tree to be dragged out later, me moved on, with the feeling that this was going to be a good day. This is when Ricky and
    I decided to add some acrobatic riding to the hunt. We came up on a big pine tree lying across the path, and I pushed
    Postel forward knowing he could rabbit-hop right over it. Apparently, he thought he had to go over the moon too, because he
    jumped sky high. I lost my seating in the saddle when he finally returned to Earth, and there I was hanging sideways off the
    saddle. They make it look so easy in the movies, but once you start to go, it's usually over. And it was for me. But I had a nice
    dismount, landing on my feet (and not on my head for once).  Ricky, well, he wasn't as lucky. He got a little wet when a vine
    swiped him right out of the saddle as we were racing down a waterlogged trail to bay number two. (Everyone else just trying to
    kill some hogs, and here's Ricky stopping to go for a swim.) I will say, he kept it short, and was back on his horse in an eyeblink.
    When the group caught up with the dogs, they had a nice size sow. DP did the work of pulling the sow out to the main trail,
    which was now marked by hogs to drag back to the trailers. 

    We spent the next hour or so trying to round up the dogs, who were getting scattered by some young hogs running through a
    cutdown of briars and brush. We were mostly concerned about finding Bill and Sassy, two of David's finest dogs, so we had no
    choice but to go through this tangle of meanness (there's nothing nice about a briar slashing up your legs and hands). One of
    these days, I'm going to invest in some chaps. We had to cross a ditch of water, which is where Ricky continued his acrobats off
    of Blue's back, but I won't go into that. Let's just say that Ricky practiced his flying dismount once or twice (and he got pretty
    good!) We had dogs baying in all directions. David said, "Someone take us to it", so Postel and I stepped up and pushed
    through the briars to the dogs closest to us. Yep, Postel and I led the charge straight to a Winnie the Pooh-sized piglet. I was a
    little disappointed, but Travis wasn't. His mouth watering when David picked up the little 10-pound big and said, "All it needs is
    an apple in his mouth." Travis strapped that pig right to his saddle horn and rode with it bouncing off Chuck's shoulder for the
    rest of the day. 

    David finally got a GPS reading on Bill and Sassy and saw they were making their way back to us, so we decided to hunt back
    toward the trailers. The dogs struck again not far from where we got hog number two, and David and DP pounded their way
    through the woods, jumping logs, dodging holes and kicking up mud. Postel and I were right on their heels, until DP got caught
    up in some vines. David hollered for someone else to go for the bay, so I turned Postel toward the direction of the barking, and
    let him go. Postel is a lit firecracker in a flat run, but he also has a sharp mind when it comes to winding his way through the
    woods. We threaded in and out of the trees and vines at a gallop, with me barely touching the reins as he headed right to the
    sound of the bay. Marion and Toogoodoo were right behind us, but Toogoodoo might have pulled up short if he knew he would
    be pulling his fourth and final hog back to the truck. Hunter rode Ekosan right into the mix of dogs and hog and got to kill his
    second boar (and surely not his last). Ekosan, who had never seen or smelled a hog before, stood quietly amid the chaos more
    like an old mare than a young filly. 

    It was a lucrative hunt for all, as we pulled four hogs out of the woods, Chuck dragging one and carrying one with hardly a fuss.
    Toogoodoo, on the other hand, doesn't really like having a big black hog dragging behind him, but Marion put him to work and
    skillfully kept a lid on Toogoodoo's explosive energy. I can see the partnership between Marion and Toogoodoo is working
    well. DP dragged the third hog, but David let Ekosan get a taste of the dirty work about 20 yards from the trailers. She dragged
    that big ol' hog right down the road as if she'd done it a million times before. I'm not sure who was more proud - me, David or
    Hunter! I packed up Postel and Ekosan, whom I had to pry out of Hunter's fingers, and headed for home, leaving the guys to
    dress the hogs. (I'll hunt all day if it means I get to ride a horse. But I still prefer to get my pork from the grocery store.)

   



  
  Simpson's First Hog Hunt under Saddle
    -- Posted on Monday, January 18, 2010 by David Grant    


    The excitement level for men, horses and dogs was at a fever pitch level. The weather had been good for polar bears, but not
    for Southern redneck hog hunters. Aah!! But today, sunny and mild, 60's. We were ready to go! "We" being the Pee Dee
    Cowboy on DP, Marion Broach on Toogoodoo, Dustin Philips on first time hog hunter Simpson, Travis Anderson on Chicora
    (aka "Chuck"), first time hog hunter Josh Collins on Sage, and Hunter Rogers on the one and only Tebow. All CMTO Marsh
    Tackies. Dickie Philips was astride his faithful Appaloosa, Mister and Ricky Rogers on a very nice Quarter Horse, Blue. Last but
    not least, a fine pack of Pee Dee curs.  

    After giving thanks to the Lord for the privilege we were about to partake in, we turned loose at 9:30 a.m. We worked our way
    down a power right of way, "checking" for signs. The dogs got gamey and worked a cut-down good, but never struck. They all
    came back except for Cowgirl, an up and coming Pee Dee cur dog. She was working out a track, and we lost her on the GPS,
    so we worked our way toward the last location I had a reading on her. I told our group this was a young dog, and I wasn't
    convinced she wasn't bumping a deer, but when I got her back on the GPS, she had worked a track unlike what a deer what do.
    Having hunted this area many times, I worked our way toward what I knew would be her and an ol' hog's destination, a bad cut
    down toward the river. Sure 'nuf!! she showed bayed, so I hollered, "Let's ride!!" Before we could get our Tackies in a lope, we
    heard our dogs catch!!! That's the way it is. Sometimes there's nothing going on, then chaos!! 

    The dogs had caught a nice 200-pound sow. We rode hard down to the bay and decided to take her alive so we wouldn't have
    to worry about the meat spoiling. This ol' gal wasn't real happy about being tied up, and she was giving us and the dogs our
    money's worth. Squealing, barking, snorting, hollering, OH YEAH!!! A quick hit for an adrenaline junkie. Did I mention Cowgirl
    was still bayed? We had to make a choice quickly, so we started dragging the sow to Marion and Toogoodoo. And man, you
    should have seen that horse drag that sow over hill, over dale!! Once he had to jump a 6-foot wide ditch full of water, and when
    he landed, horse, hog and all looked like a submarine. 

    Let me back up a minute. The Pee Dee Cowboy and Marion had been elected to go back and get the four-wheeler. Man we
    had a great run. Ol' Toogoodoo is fast and outran DP, but I had a lot more horse power underneath me than I knew! DP must
    have been dreaming of the races in Hilton Head. 

    Back to the hog. By the time we got back, Dustin had taken care of the hogs Cowgirl had bayed, plus a couple more. We
    caught our breath, patted each other on the back and said, "Let's ride." One of the many advantages of hunting a large tract of
    land along the Pee Dee River basin is that if you are "hog savvy",  you can pretty much ride until you find a sign! So that's just
    what our group did. We had to ride about 2 miles across some beautiful hardwood bottoms. It had just rained 3 inches the day
    before, and the swamp water put our Tackies to the test. Sometimes bogging, sometimes swimming. But alas, all good times
    must come to an end. We came to a road after checking out one hog "haunt" to no avail. I said, "Let's ride over to the next
    cutover and take a lunch break in the sun and relax." Wrong!!!! 

    
    We were hunting over in Ricky's neck of the woods where the swine, aka hoggumus fastamus, have Ph.D's in survival. We had
    been chasing the local population more than catching them lately, so I decided to just use bay dogs to see what would happen.
    A quick lesson here, folks. I mainly use running catch dogs: They wind, or strike a hog and run him down and attempt to hold
    him until we catch him. But in this particular neck of the woods, the hogs have been hunted so hard that any slight indication of
    something happening, they will show you speed that a NFL running back could only dream of having. So henceforth, on this
    August Carolina morning, I used five small Pee Dee curs. Old Bill, Pepper, Bambino, Pee Dee and Georgia Girl. (Let me
    interject this on the naming of any CMTO dog or horse. I have been accused of naming them out of a "bottle". That's just a
    rumor. I will admit once in a while, I may get a little inspiration from said bottle!) We unloaded the dogs and horses in Rick's
    backyard and rode off not expecting a lot, just with the attitude we were going to have some fun riding and watching some
    young dogs get some experience. We rode for about an hour with no "swine sign." We started seeing a little sign here and
    there and decided to make a loop and come up behind a corn field the "hoggumus fastamus" had been using. Finally, Bill got
    gamey and hunted out about 200 yards. I told Rick he was on some hogs, but my Garmin GPS system showed him still moving. 

    We have learned through a lot of trial and error -- mostly error -- that Bill will be on a hog, but he won't show being bayed. He
    will be circling the hog, and especially if it's a big hog, it will be walking to where it wants to go not paying much attention to Bill.
    Today, that was what was happening. The other young dogs were still trying to figure it out. We finally tracked Bill to the corn 
    field. On the way, Ricky commented how Toogoodoo was so much more settled than last time he rode him. I told him point
    riding did it. Folks, that is what I hope and pray I live long enough to do! Raise and train CMTO Marsh Tacky bred horses and
    sell the ones most people would keep. We are slowly heading that way. We have five horses that I can ride point on in any
    given hunt. (We have more coming; it takes time!!) 

    Anyway, back to the hunt. Bill was on hogs in the corn field. Finally, the young dogs heard him, and they lit a shuck through the
    corn (a pun was intended). And we followed at a dead run! Man, this is what keeps me going back even after a "skunk" hunt.
    Corn stalks flying by my ear, Sage jumping water holes, Ricky and Toogoodoo on my heels. We slid to a stop and heard the
    big "hoggumus fastamus" grunting, or was it licking its lips ready for a Bill snack? Let me explain once again hog lingo. With a
    running catch dog, our dogs must run him down, catch and hold. A big hog, obviously is hard to hold, especially in the summer
    time when it's hot and our dogs just get a chance to catch their breath and it's off to the races again. Plus, most running catch
    dogs are 60 pounds plus and intimidate the hog somewhat. But not Old Bill. He is 25 pounds soaking wet! So on "hoggumus
    fastamus", we have started using bay dogs more. Back to Bill as a snack. All of a sudden, all the bay dogs were engaged. You
    would have thought that old pig had a hold of all the dogs the way they were carrying on. We jumped off the horses to see
    the "prize". Ooops!!!! This particular "hoggumus fastamus" almost runneth over us!!! What a sight: me and Rick and Sage and
    Toogoodoo, big hog and five dogs saying, "Which way do we go?" Well, the hog went into a cutdown that we could get into, and
    folks, we witnessed some really fine dog work. Those bay dogs had that hog convinced that they were in charge. We finally
    dispatched the hog that turned out to be about 360 pounds. I told Rick let's take it back and clean it since it was so hot. I put a
    lariat around old piggy and hooked him to Sage and here we went. It had been a good while since I had really used Sage on
    point. I am usually teaching a young horse all the wonderful benefits of being a CMTO point horse. Sage and his mere 800
    pounds took that 360-pound-plus hog through that cutdown like a tank. He got to a wall of vines and briars and hesitated, but
    he knew the Pee Dee Cowboy was aboard, and he went right on through. 

    Ricky commented on how Sage has matured, and he has. Sage is a no-nonsense type of horse. He gets the job at hand done
    and says, "What's next?" We were dragging the hog back to a good spot to pick him up later in the truck, which was about two
    miles from Rick's house. We started back when the dogs got gamey again. I told Rick that a few must have slipped out during
    the convention we were having back in that cutdown. The GPS showed Bill 800 yards away and moving. Then I lost him on the
    screen. We decided to hunt in that direction, which was toward home. The GPS picked Bill back up. He was bayed 650 yards
    out. We were in some pretty open woods with a narrow fire line through it, just about perfect for an all out ride. So away we
    went! Sage knows the "deal", running with pricked ears, listening for the dogs. He was ready to "gitter er done". We had one
    pine tree blown down about three feet high. These horses cleared it in stride. Water holes, mud puddles, we rode hard for
    about five minutes. When we pulled the horses up hard, we did a pretty impressive sliding stop. (Where is the photographer?)
    Then we heard Bill preaching that ol' hog sermon, and then the young dogs tuned in. We slowed down so we could
    enjoy the "music". When we got to the bay, the hog had broke loose and run. Well, the young Pee Dee curs took charge and
    shut him down. Rick and I eased into a pine plantation sprinkled with some briars for flavor. What we saw was four young dogs
    on their haunches right in the face of a 300-pound boar. We enjoyed the moment for about five minutes and then tried to slip in
    close enough to make a safe shot. That took some doing. Rick said, "Can you shimmy up a 3-foot pine sapling?" I told him I
    didn't need to because I was faster than him. He didn't seem to appreciate that comment. We finished off this nice 300-pound
    Pee Dee River bottom hog and headed to the house. It was a good morning: good friend, good dogs, very good horses and
    priceless memories. Remember, it's not how you start in life; it's how you finish. 

   





  
  A Work in Progress
   -- Posted on Friday, July 31, 2009 by David Grant    


    I can list many reasons why I enjoy hunting and riding from the back of a horse - but moreso if it's a CMTO bred Tacky, and if
    I'm hunting with a CMTO bred Pee Dee cur dog. One of the many reasons for my enjoyment is watching a young horse or dog
    develop and learn the job he (or she) has to do.
 
    You have heard the old adage a work in progress. This is how I often describe a young horse or dog. For example, CMTO's
    Toogoodoo is a work in progress. When I purchased him as a 2-year-old from Jen Ravenel in Charleston, I saw that I needed to
    have him started by someone with a lot more savviness about a newly-under-the-saddle mount. After Toogoodoo spent two
    months with a "professional" trainer, I picked him up and headed to the woods. On his first hunt, I realized that I had a great
    riding horse with a great handle on him. He'll side pass and back up and has great ground manners. But he also has a big
    motor. I am learning this to be a common thread among most of our horses: a big heart and a willingness to please. 

    Let me explain, or add rather, that a big motor plus a young horse on his first time out in the woods could be a recipe for an
    interesting day on a hog hunting excursion. Most of the time, I ride point on a hunt, which means I get the honor of being the
    first to bust up the briars, jump a ditch, cross or swim a slough, dodge snakes, etc. I would like to add that one of CMTO's goals
    is to have only horses for sale that have been ridden point for at least one summer. But on with the story!

    On this first day, I must say I was very tired from making Toogoodoo do all this for the first time. Since then, Toogoodoo has
    been on 30-plus hunts, most of them being ridden by Ricky Clark, the infamous "Marlboro Man." If you want to appreciate what
    it is like to ride a CMTO Tacky, just interview Ricky who has ridden many a horse, many a mile in his day, and he will tell
    you "the deal" of a CMTO Marsh Tacky. I will say that Ricky helped me to finish out Toogoodoo, for as I will state in upcoming
    sentences he is now a point horse. 

    On this particular hunt, it was me, David Grant, "the not so famous" Pee Dee Cowboy, on Toogoodoo. John Strickland,
    the "stock car driver turned Cowboy from Aynor", on Sage and my recently retired "subsitute hunting partner", Dickie Phillips on
    Wiser, his 16 hand Quarter Horse who handles a day in the woods very well. (Dickie has a horse named Bud too.) Go figure!
    We were hunting on one of my favorite Pee Dee River bottoms. We had worked the area over pretty good with plenty of fresh
    feeding signs but hadn't struck a hog. Let me take a minute and explain a little about our style of hog hunting. Because of my
    work schedule, we may not turn loose until 10 a.m. By then, the elusive "pig" has long since retired to the most unpleasant
    piece of real estate he can find, sometimes miles away from where we saw fresh signs. When people ask me, "All these signs
    and no pigs? Where are they?", I reply in my always perfect English grammar and manners, "They are where they are!!! "
    When you hunt in this manner, you need dogs that can work an area and try to wind a hog bedded down in a blowdown or
    usually in the middle of a hell hole cutdown. It's a tough job! The batting average won't get you in the hog hunters hall of fame,
    but it's worth it when it comes together: dogs baying, horses running flat out, jumping, swimming, sliding -- whatever the moment
    brings to the bay. And it could be a good old bad one with a good fight taking place -- that will get your blood pumping. 

    Back to this hunt. I decided to work my way down the river to where I anticipated these particular pigs were bedded down. I
    didn't tell my partners, and I usually don't, but I had a little extreme riding planned. Toogoodoo was doing really well. Vines had
    him several times, and he waited for me to cut them to free him. Something I expect from all my mounts that are to be a point
    horse: When caught up in a vine, wait on me to cut you free. They will come to realize you will help them, and they will wait. It is
    a great feeling when a horse naturally does something like this, and on this hunt, Toogoodoo started doing it, where in the
    past, he would try to kick and twist his way out himself. But it finally clicked on him, "Hey, this guy is my partner!" I didn't say
    anything to the guys when they said there was a deep ravine ahead. I just disappeared down it on Toogoodoo. He went down it
    on his hindquarters. What a feeling to have a horse slide down a hill! Then came John with a wild look in his eye on Sage, but
    they made it. What a sight to see Sage come down that ravine sliding like a reigning horse. Then old Wiser with Dickie came
    right on down. Dickie did comment he could have used several "Buds", before he lifted off! Then I heard a bay over here, and
    over there. There were bays coming from everywhere, but where were we? The dogs caught when I took off down the ravine.
    Toogoodoo slipped sideways in the slick mud from the river flooding. I pulled my left leg out and sat on top of him for the ride
    down. It wasn't planned, but it worked and we started for the bay. I noticed Toogoodoo moving with a purpose, a sense of
    urgency if you may. Not just nervous big motor energy, but he was going to the bay. His ears were pricked forward, fighting with
    me to get there to finish the deal. The deal is what I call my pact with my Pee Dee curs. If they have the grit to hunt all day, fight
    everything a Pee Dee River bottom can throw at them, run a hog through hell and back, and fight to the death if need be, I will
    do whatever it takes to get to them. I have lost several friends over it and made some people mad over my harshness in action,
    in "getting the deal done". Anyway, the bay was in some vines, and we clawed our way to the dogs and caught one nice sow,
    but before we could relax, the dogs had another one, this time down a logging road. We rode down to them as fast as we could,
    sliding to a stop. I jumped off to a good bay and a fight with another nice Pee Dee River bottom hog. After it was over, I realized
    that I had ridden Toogoodoo within inches of the bay and jumped off without tying him up. No matter. He was eating grass with
    that "I've done my part" look in his eye. Another part in his eye said, "Let's go home!" 

    I told my buddies, "Let's hunt back to the truck." That is an inside joke for my circle of hunting partners, because too many
    times we have hunted all day with no luck and I almost gave up, and then when I say "Let's hunt back to the truck", we have on
    numerous occasions caught hogs on the way back. And often in places where we had already been that day. On this hunt, we
    were within a half mile of the trailer when the dogs got gamey. Then we heard a bark, then a bay, then a squeal. The way was
    thick with briars and vines, but we went in. I was tired, so I told Toogoodoo we were going all the way in. This means briars, a
    couple of ditches, then the last 40 yards all briars. He hesitated, but then I put the pressure on him and right on through we
    went! He jumped, reared and kicked his way into a bad hole and ended up right on top of the bay. Then here come come
    Dickie and John. It was a full house. Old Toogoodoo just moved over and made room. It was a pretty good fight and
    Toogoodoo just took it with a different look this time. This one said, "I know we are through." 

    It was a good hunt, great extreme riding, another step in the work-in-progress project. We headed home, and I had that feeling
    that I am privileged to have had a job well done by my CMTO Tackies and Pee Dee curs. And I cherish their efforts. Until next
    time, in the words of Roy and Dale, "Happy trails to you."      
   







  Team Marsh Tacky Hunt 
   -- Posted on Friday, June 19, 2009 by Wylie Bell    


    There were so many horses, dogs, four-wheelers and trucks in the woods last Saturday, June 13, we should have known we
    had no chance of sneaking up on any hogs. The morning hunt on Col. Kolb plantation in Society Hill ended around noon
    without a hog... but a good meal of chicken wings.
 
    As always, David kept the ride exciting by taking us through some rough areas. We had to cross a slough that looked more like
    the Grand Canyon, and then penetrate a wall of briars that even rabbits would choose to go around. Joining Carolina Marsh
    Tacky Outdoors for the hunt was Sidney Hawkins from the Upstate, an expert on Colonial Spanish horses, and Jimmy Maner,
    another horse owner from the Upstate. Brian Stanton, David's longtime friend and fellow hog hunter, came up from Charleston
    for the ride. This was Brian's first hog hunt in a long time, but he could remember the times when he and David would wake up
    at 2:30 in the morning to get geared up and into the woods. Brian also doesn't seem to be afraid to face a hog without the aid
    of any dogs, and you almost need to put a leash on him to keep him from disappearing into the thickets on a solo mission.
    There were also three riders, Tom and Bo Stafford and Marion Broach, "testing" out their Quarter Horses in the swamp. Tom's
    dun mare, Honeybunch, actually has been on several hunts now, and Tom says it's helped knock the edge off her. As for the
    Marsh Tackies, David paired Sage, a push-button gelding, with Sidney, and Holly, the tough little filly, with Jimmy. Brian rode
    Postel, the 4-year-old gelding I always ride. On this hunt, I was riding Toogoodoo for the first time. Toogoodoo, a 4-year-old
    gelding, is the kind of horse you want to be on if you got a long way to go, and you want to get there fast. He's got a very
    comfortable gait and a nice, easy lope. He's like riding a rocking horse on ice: You just glide along.

    Unfortunately, Toogoodoo and I were "gliding" along in the wrong direction at one point, and I accidentally led our guests on the
    hunt astray. We doubled back to find David and the rest of the group that we thought was "right behind us." It was a good
    lesson on how quickly those woods can swallow you up and leave you disoriented. It was also a good lesson on how a woman
    will always lead you into trouble, because David was not real thrilled to lose half of his hunting party. 

    But on to that deep slough we crossed. It proved not to be a problem for any of the horses. We had eight horses crammed on
    the lip of the ditch trying to figure out how we were going to get through to the woods on the other side. For David, the answer
    was easy: Go through it. David said he didn't like to do it, but he asked DP to be his battering ram. Marsh Tackies have a
    unique technique to dealing with thick briars and brush. They will rear up and come down on top of them, crushing them
    underfoot. However, neither DP nor Postel was interested in going through this particular briar patch. David said he didn't
    blame them. So he and Brian made a path using a similar technique to "push" their way through the thicket by lying down on
    top of them and flattening them to the ground. After about 20 yards, they finally reached the woods, and we came through with
    the horses. 

    But there were no hogs in that stand of trees or any other spots we poked around in. We did have a tense moment on the hunt
    when Sage got tangled up in a vine and fell over on Sid. Sid scrambled out from under him and avoided flying hooves as Sage
    kicked his way out of the vines, breaking the saddle girth in the process. Luckily, Sid wasn't hurt. In fact, I think all of us who
    witnessed it were more shook up than he was. The more hunts I go on, the more I realize anything can happen at any moment.
    While I trust these Marsh Tackies wholeheartedly, you still have to remember that there's always the risk of getting hurt. I guess
    that's all part of the hunting experience: the dangers, the thrills and yes, sometimes, the disappointments. 

    Just when it seemed we were going to have to go to the market to get our pork, the dogs bayed some hogs in a wooded area
    bordering on a small clearing planted with wheat. One hog finally broke from the thicket and took off through the woods with all
    those "deer" dogs David had been chastising close behind. This is the part of the hunt that happens too fast. All morning, the
    hours drag on as you search for cloven hoof prints or signs of rutting in the black mud, reading the GPS to see if any dogs
    are "sitting down", listening for a yelp off in the distance. But once the pursuit begins, time speeds up as split-second decisions
    are being made: dodge this tree, duck under this branch, jump this log, go around the vines, watch that hole, protect your face.
    When you finally reach the bayed hog, you realize you haven't made any decisions at all, and you wonder how you got there.
    Standing quietly under you, surrounded by the cacophony of men shouting, dogs barking and a hog squealing is your answer:
    your horse. He appears to be at peace in this harsh environment, a moment's respite on the job. As a guest on the hunt,
    Richard was allowed the honors of bringing the hunt to a close with a knife borrowed from David. Bonnie declined to take part in
    the kill. Like me, she found her reward in the riding and the horses. When we took a break for lunch, she suggested we make
    the horses more comfortable by loosening their saddle girths, because "Holly's worked so hard for me today. What an amazing
    little girl." I always think the same thing about Postel, a 4-year-old gelding I ride. Today, I had really needed him because my
    stirrup broke during the pursuit, and I lost all focus other than staying in the saddle. Any other horse probably would have run
    me into a tree. David and Ricky, who had brought the "blasted" deer dogs, mended their friendship on the ride back to the
    horse trailer. 

    Of course, David had to get one last jab in when it was his horse, DP, who had to do all the work and drag the sow out of the
    woods. Ricky had volunteered his horse, Toogoodoo for the job, but the spirited young gelding reared when the hog got lodged
    in some logs. Ricky doesn't look and act like a cowboy for no reason. Toogoodoo nearly came crashing over backwards on
    Ricky as he clung to his seat in the saddle, but the horse slipped in the mud and came crashing down on his belly instead.
    Ricky rode it out and then shook another cigarette from his pack with steady hands. "Toogoodoo doesn't want to have anything
    to do with a pig," he said. 

    Ricky and David dressed the hog back at the trucks using a pulley system David has rigged to his horse trailer. Everyone went
    home with some meat and good advice on how to cook it from a band of hunters turned gourmet chefs. Bonnie and Richard
    were given all the meat they could pack in a cooler. They tried to give me more, but I said, "I don't have eight kids to feed!"
    Besides the meat, Bonnie and Richard went home with an appreciation for a breed of horse that has nearly been lost to
    extinction by today's modern standards of bigger, faster and sleeker. These qualities are useless when it comes down to what
    you really want in a horse: a trustworthy companion when the way isn't always clear. 



  

  Into the Deep 
   -- Posted on Friday, May 8, 2009 by Wylie Bell    


    David invited me and Leighton to our second hog hunt down by the Pee Dee River in Society Hill this week. Knowing a little bit
    more about what to expect, we briar-proofed ourselves with long-sleeved shirts despite the heat and humidity the weatherman
    had promised. Summer doesn't drag her heels arriving early in the Pee Dee, and neither do all the bugs, so the talk among the
    hunting party was how the "skeeters are going to carry us away" if we don't cover up any bare skin. Other than that, little time
    was wasted on small talk. Horses were unloaded and saddled. Dogs were released. Bags were packed with water and snacks.
    Weapons were checked, and a prayer for a good hunt was said. 

    There were nine of us on horses, five riding Marsh Tackies; the rest on various Quarter Horses. Our escort for the hunt, a guy
    who goes by the savory nickname "Hotdog", rode a four-wheeler with a giant steel cage on back for any hogs taken home
    for "fattening up." David brought his 4-year-old Marsh Tacky gelding, Postel, for me to ride and his 4-year-old stud, DP, for
    Leighton. We were a little concerned how DP might act because one of the mares in the group was in heat. But DP was a
    perfect gentleman all day. Leighton, who has been riding for about a year now, said it was nice to finally be on a horse and
    there be "no drama." That's not something most people would say sitting on a young stallion. Next to those big Quarter Horses,
    the Marsh Tackies look like ponies, but when we start moving through the thick underbrush and slick mud, the Tackies become
    the Thoroughbreds of the swamp. David is always looking for ways to make the hunt more exciting, challenging the horses to
    climb steep embarkments and cross gullies full of water. 



    On a hunt the previous week, David said DP pushed through a wall of briars by rearing up and coming down on top of them
    with his front feet until he broke through the thicket. The riding on this hunt had been pretty tame until David and I peeled away
    from the group to ride down a pipeline that was flooded with water. "Hotdog" had warned us that the water was too deep to
    cross, but he was sitting on a four-wheeler, not a Marsh Tacky! I led the way into the pool of water with Postel, who is a very
    willing, confident little horse. On the previous hog hunt, I'd ridden Postel and knew he would not fear the water, so he plunged
    right in. The ground disappeard immediately, and all I could see was Postel's head bobbing in front of me. I let him find his
    footing among the submerged logs and roots and whatever else was below the surface of the black water. As Postel was pulling
    himself out of the pool to higher ground, David came crashing into the water on Toogoodoo. Toogoodoo's momentum sent the
    horse completely under the water, head to tail. He came up with a bewildered look but in true Marsh Tacky manner, the horse
    didn't panic. We pushed forward until we were out of the water and rode on. David said, "Hey, if we're not finding any hogs, we
    might as well do some extreme riding." I agreed, but I was pretty sure there were a couple tadpoles swimming around inside my
    boots. 

    We eventually met up with the rest of the riders, and we backtracked down the flooded pipeline again. It was amazing watching
    each horse plunge into the water and paw its way out carrying its heavy load of rider and gear. David and I agreed it was a
    missed photo opportunity to show the skill of both horse and rider. Hog tracks and rutting signs were everywhere that day, but
    after hours of riding and poking through every patch of woods and mudhole, we weren't having any luck. Even the dogs
    seemed to be giving up as they gravitated out of the woods and swirled around the feet of the horses as we discussed possible
    areas we missed. 

    David is a determined hunter and had one more area he wanted to check, but Leighton and I had to leave. We wished them all
    luck as we headed back to the horse trailers. David called us later that night to let us know we had missed out. Not only did they
    kill a hog after we'd left, but a rattlesnake too. 








  First Hog Hunt for the Bells 
   -- Posted on Monday, April 13, 2009 by Wylie Bell - for the April 14 issue of The Link, Chesterfield County's weekly
    newspaper     


    Leighton and I were recently invited to go hog hunting along the Pee Dee River in Society Hill with David Grant. I met David
    doing a story for that other publication that I write for. David is from Florence, which makes him "big city" to most of you folks in
    Chesterfield County, but the only thing "city" about David is his wife. (I thought I was marrying "city" too, when Leighton said he
    was from Buford. I thought he meant Beaufort. Boy, did I get that wrong.) David's buddies call him the "Pee Dee Cowboy",
    because he hunts on horseback. He also hunts with his bare hands and a knife, which makes me think "Pee Dee Indian" would
    be a better nickname. 

    Leighton and I showed up for the hunt about 30 minutes behind schedule. Leighton operates on LLA time (Late Like Always),
    but you don't keep a group of men who are heavily armed with guns and knives waiting. Leighton is used to getting by on his
    baby blues and dimples, but I quickly saddled up our horses and pretended that we too were armed and dangerous. Which we
    were... to an extent. I told Leighton he could bring his pistol on the hunt - not that I thought his little handgun would bring down
    a 200-pound hog but in case we ran up on any tin cans and he wanted to have a shootout with Campbell's Soup or Jolly Green
    Giant. He has yet to meet his match in the canned goods department. Plus, Leighton has a tendency for suddenly vacating his
    saddle while horseback riding, so I didn't want him on the ground squaring off with Porky Pig's meaner cousin without some sort
    of protection. (I've been telling him the bacon he eats is going to come back and haunt him some day, but I didn't want it to be
    this day.) 

    Leighton and I are not hunters, especially Leighton. He can't even catch a dust bunny. In fact, they seem to multiply around his
    parts of the house. The reason we teamed up with this band of hog hunters was for the horseback riding. The horses we were
    riding were Marsh Tackies, a rare breed native to the Lowcountry and known for being surefooted and swamp savvy. These
    horses have a history with South Carolina that dates back to the original Spanish settlers. It is also believed that during the
    American Revolution, Marsh Tackies were ridden by many of the troops of Gen. Francis Marion to battle the British. Leighton
    was not as impressed as I was by this information. "The British?" he said. "I don't remember playing that team when I went to
    Francis Marion." I told him not to worry about the Redcoats. Just keep his redneck in the saddle and out of the line of fire.

 
    When we set out into the swamp, I asked David what kind of gun they used to bring down a hog. I started looking around for the
    bazookas, but I didn't see any. "We don't shoot 'em," he said. "We stab 'em." "Oh," I said casually , as if we were about to hunt
    down a pinata. But inwardly, I was thinking about the warning my daddy used to give me when I'd go duck hunting with him in
    the swamp. "Always keep a tree that you can climb to your back," he'd say, "because if you hear a boar hog coming through
    the swamp, you'd better get up that tree quick!" I patted my horse, Postel, for comfort. At least he knew what he was doing. I
    looked back at Leighton, who was also making friends with his horse Holly, a young filly. She seemed to take to him pretty well,
    as all women do. She must have seen his dimples. 

    It wasn't long before I forgot about the boars and focused more on the briars that were trying to make us look like victims of a
    bad slasher movie. The horses didn't seem to notice them as they plowed through the undergrowth, so it was up to you not to
    get peeled off by low hanging limbs and vines. I imagine not too much has changed in the swamplands along the Pee Dee River
    in the past couple hundred years. Maybe we would run up on a Redcoat. Would we shoot 'em or stab 'em? I hoped neither, but
    the boar hog the dogs tracked down that day wasn't as lucky. Despite all my daddy's warnings, there I was running through the
    briars and brush, heading toward the the ear-piercing squeals of a hog - and not away from it, I did take note of all the 
    climbable trees along the way. Of course, Leighton and I got to the hog a few minutes after the kill had been made. But hey,
    sometimes it's safer to operate on LLA time. 





     
    Postel Comes of Age 
   -- Posted on Tuesday, May 13, 2008 by David Grant    


    This story is about Postel, a 3-year-old Marsh Tacky gelding owned by Carolina Marsh Tacky Outdoors. Postel was one of the
    first horses bought by David Grant. Postel was bred by the late Arnold Postel of Ravenel, S.C. from the sire Dapper Dan, a
    grulla Marsh Tacky stud and out of Sandy, a dun Marsh Tacky mare, reportedly one of Mr. Postel's favorite mares. Arnold has
    passed away leaving a good sized herd behind. Through a family friend, Mr. Ed Ravenel, another Marsh Tacky breeder, we
    learned of the sale of the Postel herd. We went down and purchased five horses from both, Beth's and Ed's herds. Little did we
    know what that infamous trip to Ravenel in the fall of 2006 would begin!  

    Postel was always undersized but full of himself. If there was trouble to get into, he would usually be at the root of it by opening
    gates, jumping fences, and anything a yearling can do to cause problems. He was curious about everything and loved people.
    We just let him grow up. 

    We had thoughs of keeping Postel a stud, as recommended by Jeannette Beranger of the ALBC, because he represented a
    different line of Marsh Tackies from the rest of our herd. But ultimately Postel's "full of himself" nature as a yearling carried over
    to more than a "full of himself" young stud. We had to make the very, very tough decision to geld him. 

    When we started training Postel as a 2-year-old, he was different in a good sort of way. He was easy to start with no buck but
    his way of resisting moving forward was an "odd" move... a lift and spin in the opposite direction reminiscent of the behavior
    bred into his Spanish ancestors, a war maneuver from hundreds of years ago. In this move, a horse would lift up and spin in an
    opposite direction without hardly taking up any space. (Very handy when you were in hand-to-hand combat with the enemy.) It
    also served to help the rider throw a spear or lance with more velocity. 

    As we rode Postel, he was very gentle but it took a good rider to appreciate and get the most out of him. We were encouraged
    because each time out, he taught us something about what makes a Marsh Tacky so special - namely heart. He could take
    anything we put him through and still after six hours of hard riding he could still keep going. On an average hog hunt we will ride
    six to eight hours at a pretty steady walk, with at times some breathtaking all out runs to get to the dogs when they bay up a
    hog (which is most always in the biggest roughest place around!!!) One time we caught a nice boar in the river and jumped off
    the horses into the water and onto the hog... that will be another story.... let's finish Postel's. 

    Postel has learned to run to the dogs, almost all on his own. He will navigate through rough terrain like an open highway and
    can drag half his weight along for the ride. He will follow his rider without leading and has learned to rise up and come down on
    briars to keep them out of his face. But to top it off, just the other day he showed me the Marsh Tacky move of the legend! We
    were crossing a creek we shouldn't have been, but the dogs were bayed up on the other side with a particularly bad hog. The
    water was deep and cold, but here we went. We got almost through and then oh man!... What all horses hate... Bog! Postel
    went totally submerged and came up stuck. I had to come off him. He laid there a minute and then he did it. He laid back down,
    pulled his feet up and rolled out of the bog! It was hell on the saddle but an awesome move. It goes to prove that the old hog
    hunting proverb: It's not how you start, it's how you finish.