Feral hogs: we take their beer, they narc on our weed and enjoy a sweet, stinky bonfire

Feral hogs, that scourge on our land.  They have been known to eat endangered species.  They tear up agricultural land, to the tune of $500 million per year in Texas alone. And they steal our beer.  

No longer confined to beer theft

Since word got out last year about the feral hog beer-poaching menace, it is presumed that loyal readers around the world have been heeding our call to lock up your beer, to say nothing of your endangered species.  Beer is not endangered, like a red-cheeked salamander, but it is arguably more precious to mankind.   (PETA people, this blog is partly satire. Don’t go eco-terror on my house.  My little dog will bite your tree hugging, salamander petting asses). But, let’s be serious, beer is more precious than salamanders, no matter the color of their cheeks.  And the hogs had been going after our beer with impunity until we locked that sh*t down.

So now, the hogs have struck back.  They have gone in league with The Man and ratted out a massive grow operation.  Texas game wardens - who don’t need a warrant to come onto your property to look for evidence of poached game were led to the 6,500 pot plants on Wildlife Management by hog hunters, who were led by the hogs, to the massive grow operation. 

The Man, taking down the grow

It is an open question whether the hogs were ratting out this stash to The Man, or were offering up a peace treaty with north Texas hog hunters, and the hunters were, in fact, straight-edge.  The hunters, however, may have misplayed their hand. We all know that beer is marching fuel.  Whiskey makes you get all stabby. Weed, however, makes you chill. When have you ever heard of someone toking up, for medicinal purposes or non-medicinal purposes, and just tearing sh*t up, like hogs do when they get a hold of a six-pack of double-deuce cans of brew.  No, the hogs would have munched away, tried to start a fire, though they have no thumbs, and then chilled out.  The hunters, if they were blood thirsty, could have killed all the hogs they wanted if the hogs had been high.  Hogs are smart, though, crafty smart.  And as we discussed, they have no thumbs with which to light a spliff.  They likely knew that The Man, when he finds a massive grow operation, will dig a pit and burn it. 

Prepping the great weed bonfire

So, I’m applying Occam’s Razor, and calling them narcs. Narcs who led hunters to the grow operation knowing that The Man would start a bitchin' bonfire.  I’m betting five that the hogs were congregating in the woods and breathing deep.  They have an incredible sense of smell, which was likely well-used.  

(Bottom two photos courtesy of Dallas Observer, astute co-chronicler of the scourge of our porcine menace).