The Hog 97 



depths, establish themselves, and breed there 

 year after year. Such animals are truly 

 wild, running away like deer at the least 

 alarm, and, like deer, able to wind the hunter. 

 They run when they can, and fight when 

 they must. The cracking of a dead branch 

 beneath the foot, or a single incautious yelp 

 from a dog, sends them off like a shot, so 

 long as the danger is unseen. It is when it 

 comes in plain sight they begin to bristle 

 and, in early winter when they know them- 

 selves too fat to run far or fast, make ready 

 for a charge. They feed very early in the 

 morning, and again towards dusk, lying hid- 

 den in thickets and beside fallen trees through 

 the daylight, and snug in their beds through 

 the night. No hog, wild or tame, makes a 

 path to his bed, though they make strongly 

 defined ones to their feeding and drinking 

 places. But wild hogs cannot feed without 

 leaving strong sign — the circles and spirals 

 rooted in the fallen leaves in search of mast. 

 All about the rooted circles there will be 

 tracks. By the depth of these tracks the 

 hunter judges the size and fatness of the 

 game. He seeks out some very quiet place, 

 where tracks are plenty, and baits it — that is, 

 strews it thickly with shelled corn and little 

 lumps of salt. Then he watches until the 

 bait has been eaten, and renews it, judging as 



