Legionnaire
May 30, 2007, 07:29 AM
From today's WSJ On-Line
Hired Killer Stalks
The Wild Pigs
Plaguing Nebraska
Biologist Sam Wilson Sets
Traps and Shoots Critters
Threatening the Corn Crop
By DIONNE SEARCEY
May 30, 2007; Page A1
GENOA, Neb. -- When Sam Wilson trudged through a Nebraska cornfield last week, he spotted the telltale sign down by the creek bed. The torn-up soil looked like someone had unleashed a giant rototiller on the soft ground.
Wild pigs were on the loose here in Genoa, a tiny farming town in the eastern part of the state, foraging through the countryside in search of earthworms, grubs, roots or anything else they could find until the cornfields come to life again.
"These pigs are very, very smart," says Mr. Wilson, the nongame mammal and furbearer program manager for the Nebraska Game and Parks Commission. Armed with high-tech gadgets and a high-powered hunting rifle, he has been asked by the state to eradicate the pigs because they are known to destroy corn crops and could spread disease to Nebraska's hog farms.
The state's many other hunters can only wish they were doing the shooting. The pigs make a desirable target because they are so crafty and because they are rare here. But the state legislature in 2005 banned hunting them, hoping to prevent hunters from importing the wild pigs.
Some hunters are upset, protesting the situation online and otherwise. "If I see one while turkey hunting, I am going to put bacon in the freezer," writes a hunter whose screen name is Bullelkklr on the state's game and parks Internet forum. "Those little guys are spooky."
Known for their wiliness, wild boar were brought to the U.S. by Europeans in the 1930s to be hunted. Some of them mated with domestic pigs that got away from farmers. The offspring -- black, tusked and weighing hundreds of pounds -- are hunted for sport on ranches in Texas, Alabama, Georgia and other states where the pigs have proliferated. In Texas alone, the growing feral-pig population is currently estimated by state officials at 1.5 million. In that state, wild pigs have been spotted on golf courses and in backyards. Texas encourages hunters. Ads say that "meat from feral hogs is extremely tasty and much leaner than pen-raised pork."
Since 2000, about 50 pigs have turned up in several parts of Nebraska. Most were killed by state game officials. Mr. Wilson isn't sure how a handful of pigs ended up in his turf.
The wild, hairy pigs are harder to hunt than traditional Nebraska game, including deer and pheasant. Once threatened, they become nocturnal and have a keen sense of smell. A sow recently spotted Mr. Wilson in his treetop perch from 100 yards away.
"She snorted, cleared her nose, took a deep breath and let out another deep rumble that called her piglets to her, and they all ran away," said Mr. Wilson, who knew that if he shot and missed the sow, she would never show up in the same spot again.
The pigs are difficult to trap even for the 32-year-old Mr. Wilson, whose first job out of college at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln was hunting wild pigs that had invaded Santa Catalina Island, southwest of Los Angeles. There, the animals' digging was destroying rare plants and eroding hillsides. After a year and a half spent hunting pigs with the help of helicopters and packs of dogs, Mr. Wilson, whose bachelor's degree is in wildlife biology, felt he had become a wild-pig expert. Mr. Wilson returned to his home state in 2003.
In recent months he has killed more than 30 pigs. He first catches them in 5-foot-high traps using remote controls he designed with toy-car parts. He strips the remote units off the cars and stuffs the parts into an old ammunition box that he uses as a trigger so he can sit dozens of yards away and push a button for the trap's door to drop. For bait he often uses French toast, spaghetti and other leftovers from the University of Nebraska cafeteria. Mr. Wilson has learned from experience that he can't be hasty. Wild pigs are suspicious when they see traps and often avoid the area entirely when they spot them.
"I've dealt with smart pigs before," Mr. Wilson says.
The first time he set out to investigate a wild-pig sighting in Nebraska, he was caught off guard by one of the beasts. He stumbled onto pig tracks and followed them right to a sleeping hog. He had left his rifle behind and could do nothing but watch the animal run away, snorting. "It's a monstrous sound," he says.
Some of Nebraska's hunters say they're missing out on the fun. Betty Swanson, who operates Swanson's Hunting Acres, a controlled shooting operation for game birds in northeast Nebraska, says she has disappointed a number of hunters who inquire whether wild pigs are legal to hunt.
Mr. Wilson thinks that as many as five pigs are still roaming the Genoa area. Armed with night-vision goggles and a rifle, he's determined to gun them down before they have a chance to breed.
On a recent reconnaissance mission in the woods near Beaver Creek in Genoa, Mr. Wilson, a sandy-haired, hard-squinting man in Carhartt jeans and a T-shirt, navigated a muddy cornfield and a thicket of poison ivy to find fresh evidence. He spotted coyote and deer tracks and then, in a clearing, noticed a large patch of chewed-up soil, a sign of wild-pig rooting. He leaned down and touched the dirt.
"This is something one pig did in a half-hour," Mr. Wilson said, shaking his head.
His hunter sense kicked in and Mr. Wilson weaved through the tall grass with his head down looking for more clues. He zigzagged to the edge of a creek, but all he found were raccoon prints.
"The pigs probably stopped here just for a drink," he said, sighing. "It's very frustrating. It's like this ongoing game of tag."
Mr. Wilson wants to put a stop to the pigs before they disappear in tall rows of summer corn. He's considering using hunting dogs. "I'm interested in a healthy ecosystem," Mr. Wilson says. "Pigs, they don't fit."
Hired Killer Stalks
The Wild Pigs
Plaguing Nebraska
Biologist Sam Wilson Sets
Traps and Shoots Critters
Threatening the Corn Crop
By DIONNE SEARCEY
May 30, 2007; Page A1
GENOA, Neb. -- When Sam Wilson trudged through a Nebraska cornfield last week, he spotted the telltale sign down by the creek bed. The torn-up soil looked like someone had unleashed a giant rototiller on the soft ground.
Wild pigs were on the loose here in Genoa, a tiny farming town in the eastern part of the state, foraging through the countryside in search of earthworms, grubs, roots or anything else they could find until the cornfields come to life again.
"These pigs are very, very smart," says Mr. Wilson, the nongame mammal and furbearer program manager for the Nebraska Game and Parks Commission. Armed with high-tech gadgets and a high-powered hunting rifle, he has been asked by the state to eradicate the pigs because they are known to destroy corn crops and could spread disease to Nebraska's hog farms.
The state's many other hunters can only wish they were doing the shooting. The pigs make a desirable target because they are so crafty and because they are rare here. But the state legislature in 2005 banned hunting them, hoping to prevent hunters from importing the wild pigs.
Some hunters are upset, protesting the situation online and otherwise. "If I see one while turkey hunting, I am going to put bacon in the freezer," writes a hunter whose screen name is Bullelkklr on the state's game and parks Internet forum. "Those little guys are spooky."
Known for their wiliness, wild boar were brought to the U.S. by Europeans in the 1930s to be hunted. Some of them mated with domestic pigs that got away from farmers. The offspring -- black, tusked and weighing hundreds of pounds -- are hunted for sport on ranches in Texas, Alabama, Georgia and other states where the pigs have proliferated. In Texas alone, the growing feral-pig population is currently estimated by state officials at 1.5 million. In that state, wild pigs have been spotted on golf courses and in backyards. Texas encourages hunters. Ads say that "meat from feral hogs is extremely tasty and much leaner than pen-raised pork."
Since 2000, about 50 pigs have turned up in several parts of Nebraska. Most were killed by state game officials. Mr. Wilson isn't sure how a handful of pigs ended up in his turf.
The wild, hairy pigs are harder to hunt than traditional Nebraska game, including deer and pheasant. Once threatened, they become nocturnal and have a keen sense of smell. A sow recently spotted Mr. Wilson in his treetop perch from 100 yards away.
"She snorted, cleared her nose, took a deep breath and let out another deep rumble that called her piglets to her, and they all ran away," said Mr. Wilson, who knew that if he shot and missed the sow, she would never show up in the same spot again.
The pigs are difficult to trap even for the 32-year-old Mr. Wilson, whose first job out of college at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln was hunting wild pigs that had invaded Santa Catalina Island, southwest of Los Angeles. There, the animals' digging was destroying rare plants and eroding hillsides. After a year and a half spent hunting pigs with the help of helicopters and packs of dogs, Mr. Wilson, whose bachelor's degree is in wildlife biology, felt he had become a wild-pig expert. Mr. Wilson returned to his home state in 2003.
In recent months he has killed more than 30 pigs. He first catches them in 5-foot-high traps using remote controls he designed with toy-car parts. He strips the remote units off the cars and stuffs the parts into an old ammunition box that he uses as a trigger so he can sit dozens of yards away and push a button for the trap's door to drop. For bait he often uses French toast, spaghetti and other leftovers from the University of Nebraska cafeteria. Mr. Wilson has learned from experience that he can't be hasty. Wild pigs are suspicious when they see traps and often avoid the area entirely when they spot them.
"I've dealt with smart pigs before," Mr. Wilson says.
The first time he set out to investigate a wild-pig sighting in Nebraska, he was caught off guard by one of the beasts. He stumbled onto pig tracks and followed them right to a sleeping hog. He had left his rifle behind and could do nothing but watch the animal run away, snorting. "It's a monstrous sound," he says.
Some of Nebraska's hunters say they're missing out on the fun. Betty Swanson, who operates Swanson's Hunting Acres, a controlled shooting operation for game birds in northeast Nebraska, says she has disappointed a number of hunters who inquire whether wild pigs are legal to hunt.
Mr. Wilson thinks that as many as five pigs are still roaming the Genoa area. Armed with night-vision goggles and a rifle, he's determined to gun them down before they have a chance to breed.
On a recent reconnaissance mission in the woods near Beaver Creek in Genoa, Mr. Wilson, a sandy-haired, hard-squinting man in Carhartt jeans and a T-shirt, navigated a muddy cornfield and a thicket of poison ivy to find fresh evidence. He spotted coyote and deer tracks and then, in a clearing, noticed a large patch of chewed-up soil, a sign of wild-pig rooting. He leaned down and touched the dirt.
"This is something one pig did in a half-hour," Mr. Wilson said, shaking his head.
His hunter sense kicked in and Mr. Wilson weaved through the tall grass with his head down looking for more clues. He zigzagged to the edge of a creek, but all he found were raccoon prints.
"The pigs probably stopped here just for a drink," he said, sighing. "It's very frustrating. It's like this ongoing game of tag."
Mr. Wilson wants to put a stop to the pigs before they disappear in tall rows of summer corn. He's considering using hunting dogs. "I'm interested in a healthy ecosystem," Mr. Wilson says. "Pigs, they don't fit."