A mighty sick hog.
Despite the Missouri Conservation’s request to all hunters who encounter a feral hog to shoot it on sight, the animals are proving themselves survivors. The hog, tame or the wild variety, has been very important to the Ozarkers over the years. In fact, the razorback has been to our region what the longhorn was to Texas.
About sixty years ago a gentleman from down on Hogles Creek took a visiting trip out to California to some of his kin that had migrated out that way a number of years before. The 78 year-old man was questioned upon his return of what all he had seen in the thirty days he had been gone. To which he replied: “I certainly am glad to get back to Benton County. I was all over the state of California and never saw a single hog. That’s enough to make anyone homesick.”
One of the most important outbuildings to the early pioneers was the smokehouse. They smoked bear, turkey, venison but the chief source of meat was the hog. The stock all ran loose and foraged on acorns and roots. For two dollars they could buy into a hog claim and that gave you the right to equal shares of meat when they had a butchering.
Down late in the fall the hogs couldn’t get as much food as they needed and one man would be designated to take corn to a big spring or a free flowing branch and throw it out on the ground. That would get the hogs coming there daily in search of food. The reason for doing this next to water was so they would have plenty for scalding the hogs and cleaning the meat on hog killing day.
All the men, on the big day would circle around the area with guns. They would shoot as many as they thought they could dress out that day. Then they would equally divide the meat for their own tables at home.
If an area was sparsely settled and had enough room for each farmer’s hogs, they would just roam on the “range” and would be earmarked or branded. This identified ownership and sometimes they had the brands registered in the courthouse.
Prior to the 1920s stock laws were written and all people were supposed to fence their animals into confinement. For the most part everyone complied. The year of 1934 was not only difficult because of the depression but it was a terrible drought year in this area. Winter was approaching and the gardens had failed and people wondered what they would eat in the coming months.
My paternal grandparents, with their usual Ozark ingenuity, turned their hogs loose to range on the large acorn crop and that was sufficient to fatten them enough to be their meat supply for the coming winter.
Many wild tales have been told about the razorback hogs of Arkansas. They are supposed to be descendants of hogs that were brought here by DeSoto and they escaped into the woods to become the gaunt animals that have been described as to thin to cast a shadow. It was said they had ridges on their backs so sharp that they could be used as a razor. Everyone always agreed that the most dangerous animal in the woods was an old range sow with a litter of pigs.
Hog meat is not the only thing the Ozarkers are noted for. They have always been known for the humor of the backwoods. The ruse most used in backwoods humor for its impact is exaggeration. Exaggeration is used with telling effect because it is used to distort some distinctive trait of their subject. A prime example is an age old story about the toughness of range hogs. They may not have the fighting equipment of a wildcat or the strength of a bear but when it comes to absorbing punishment and coming back for more, none can match them.
The old story is told about the farmer that was clearing ground, grubbing out the stumps by hand, which is the worst backbreaking work imaginable. A County Agent came by and showed the farmer how easily and cheaply the stumps could be removed with the use of dynamite. The farmer was grateful to find such a wonderful solution. He went to the store and purchase dynamite, fuse and caps. Coming home, he dug a hole by a big black oak stump, set a charge of dynamite under it, lighted the fuse and went to his cabin for supper. The fuse went out and by that time the farmer was clean up to the house so he decided to wait until morning before re-lighting it.
Early the next morning the farmer’s big old range sow got up and went foraging. She found the stick of dynamite and ate it. She rooted around for bugs, roots and acorns for awhile and then she saw the farmer feeding the other stock in the barn lot. She hustled up there to see if she could steal some of the mule’s corn. She ran into the mule’s stall and headed for the feed trough. The mule quite naturally kicked at her and for the last time in its life, made contact. The dynamite went off!
Neighbors heard the explosion and hurried over. They found the farmer leaning on what was left of his rail fence, viewing the ruins. One of the neighbors commented that it looked pretty bad. “Yes” said the poor farmer, “it is bad. It killed my mule, wrecked my barn, broke every window in the cabin and brother I am here to tell you that I’ve got a mighty sick hog.”
