By Dan Infalt
 I was working at the Wisconsin deer show in madison with my good friend Andrae D'Acquisto selling his Lone Wolf Treestands. The show had gotten a little slow towards the end of the day. There was a little old man in a booth across from me selling wild boar hunts. This old dude was having a bad weekend selling and thought he should get one more deal done before packing up, so he starts staring at me until I made eye contact. Then he shouts across the isle, "Boy, you looking for a REAL adventure? ...An adventure with medieval beasts that can snap your legs with one mighty bite!!!???"
"Listen old man," I shouted back. "I have a pet potbellied pig. He bit me once...left a pretty good bruise, but it was far from tearing my leg off!"
You damn kids think you know everything!" he yelled as he got up out of his chair and hobbled over with his cane. "These ain't no pet potbellies boy!! These is pure 100% Russian hell! These guys would eat a wimp like you and laugh while doing it!"
"If they came after me, one swift kick to the head would teach them who's boss!" I responded. "Besides, if I came with you I would spend the whole day saving YOU!"
After an hour of arguing, I finally caved. The old man was packing a bunch of my money in his pocket as a down payment. I wasn't quite sure if I had just booked a hunt, or got tricked into proving my manhood.
Finally the time had arrived to go chase down a piggy. As I got out of the truck I was greeted by the old guy, Jiim, who shouted, "I thought for sure your chicken-butt wouldn't show!"
I just smiled and said, "Let's see these big bad piggies."
Jim goes over to the back of his pickup truck and pulls out a big 'ol 44 magnum revolver and straps it around his waist. Then he opens the case to a large caliber, military style rifle and he quickly snaps in a 30 round clip. "Where is your rifle boy?" Jim shouts.
"Rifle?" I said. "I brought my bow!!"
"You stupid punk..." Jim growls. "Yur gonna get yourself killed and eaten!"
We had a hard time finding a boar to go after once we were in the 400 acre enclosure. They were hiding pretty good, and it didn't help that I constantly had to wait for the old man to catch up. Finally I spotted a group of piggies and slipped close while Jim waited to catch his breath by a near tree. I got to about 25 yards when one of the oinkers spotted me and they started getting nervous. I quickly drew my bow and sent an arrow into one of the boars. They all ran off after the shot.
"I thought you said these guys would attack me?" I said, chuckling at Jim. "They all just ran. There goes your tip!" I laughed.
We began tracking the boar, and I soon found him lying on a hillside. I could see his chest still moving and knew he would need a follow up shot. I told Jim to stay back while I stalked up close to finish the job. I put all my concentration on the downed boar, carefully placing every footstep. Suddenly, my concentration is broken as Jim shouts "Look out!"
I look to my right and there is a huge boar coming right at me running full tilt. I spun around and started running towards Jim who shouted "run behind the tree". With the big pig right on my heels I ran around the tree next to the old man, right into a large fallen limb lying on the other side of the tree. I spun around to face my attacker. Jim was standing there like a cowboy in a gun fight, staring down the porker. His hand flew down and grabbed his hand cannon out of its holster like Clint Eastwood. As the piggy rounded the corner the cannon sounded. The boar locked up and stopped cold as his head snapped backwards. I saw hair fly off of the pigs head from a spot right between his eyes, as if it were in slow motion! The boar just stood there momentarily as a large bump began to rise out of the red hairless spot on his forehead. The silence was broken as a load audible "click" meant another round had just been chambered. The old boar must have known that sound... he shook himself off, turned around and hurried off. I looked at Jim, and for the first time since I met him he was smiling.
"I can't believe that 44 Mag. didn't kill that beast!!!" I exclaimed.
Jim holstered his gun and said, "WAX BULLETS BOY! Them piggies are expensive!!!"
When we got to my boar, it was already dead. The hunt was over. Jim had earned his tip.
These days, Jim is longer with us. He is probably in piggy heaven right now chasing boars all over the hills with his wax bullets.
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