I can empathise with the anti-climacticism of it. I was standing in some extremely dense brush at the edge of a creek bed, listening to the snorts and snuffs of what I was CERTAIN would be a very pissed wounded 250+ lb. sow come at me, and when it finally broke out of the brush in front of me and sniffed at the ground in front of my boots, it was just a couple of shoats that ran no more than 50 lbs. each. I continued to wait while they squealed and went around me, figuring Mama would be nearby. Never happened. Finally, as I climbed out of the creekbed, I took a running shot at the largest young one (best eating I've had in a long time.) so that I'd have *some* meat.
Point is, you get your blood up, and you end up with just... pork.
But that's about all we've got for semi-dangerous game in Texas, besides the odd bull gone feral. Few cougars, and I just don't get around them.
Regards,
L.P.
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