An Oklahoma Ted Talk
| We were 892 miles from Wall Drug |
Damsels in Distress
“Do you have a pistol? We might have to shoot our way out of this one”. The words initially struck us as comical, but the materialization of a .357 peacemaker revolver sobered us up. I was in Southern Oklahoma on a weekend hog hunt with three of my closest friends, and our guide Ted was proving once again that he belonged to the Wyatt Earp generation.
We had been driving on a minimum maintenance gravel road on the way to our evening hunt when we stumbled upon two women standing next to a parked yellow mustang convertible. To a couple of South Dakota boys, it seemed obvious that the damsels in distress were having vehicle problems. To a backcountry Oklahoma resident like Ted, the whole situation seemed a little too peculiar. Ted informed us that in this part of the world, it wasn’t uncommon for crooks to jump you while trying to lend a helping hand to a couple of pretty ladies on the side of the road. An increase in meth use and petty crime in the rural community was the source of Ted’s cynicism.
Despite the ladies’ best efforts at roadside persuasion, we drove on past. Ted’s revolver sat menacingly in the cupholder of the truck, ready for action at a moment’s notice. The whole interaction left us wondering whether the two women were truly in need, or if they held more sinister motives as Ted had suggested. It was just one of many interactions throughout the weekend that introduced us to the rural cowboy culture of Oklahoma, and our guide, Ted.
Dirty Super 8’s
24 hours earlier, our hunting party had loaded up in Yankton, South Dakota. Brendan, Matt, Landon, and I had decided that a hog hunt would be a wonderful way to make sure our hunting rifles were ready for the upcoming fall season. It also gave us a good excuse to satisfy our wanderlust while checking hogs off our species bucket lists.
Our journey to Oklahoma included countless conversations on the upcoming hunting season, several caffeine stops at Casey’s gas stations, and one particularly dirty Super 8 hotel in Salina, Kansas. In short, a pretty typical road trip for some former college roommates.
As we pulled into Pennington Creek Hunting Lodge, the sight of wild burros and a man reclined in a lawn chair cleaning his fingernails with a large bowie knife greeted us. The man introduced himself as Ted, and despite any initial reservations we held, we quickly warmed up to the Oklahoma hog hunting guide. After we each made sure our rifles had made the journey without issue, Ted escorted us to our blinds for our first evening hunt.
The Cemetery
Matt and I decided to sit together on our first night, and we took up temporary residence in an old blind the guides called “The Cemetery”. Ted assured us that the blinds were clear of all wasps and other critters, but the large hives attached to the bottom of our office chairs didn’t inspire confidence. Previous hunting parties had etched their names into the soft wood paneling on the wall, and we couldn’t help but wonder how many hogs and whitetail deer had been taken from the Cemetery Blind over the years.
Matt and I passed the time by taking pictures of the raccoons that were frequenting the corn feeders some 80 yards away. Distracted in our photography endeavors, the 25 hogs that came barreling under our blind took us by complete surprise.
Like middle school boys in the lunch line, the hogs were constantly pushing back and forth to gain an advantage over each other. My scope danced from side to side as I attempted to find a stationary hog that would offer me a clear broadside shot. After almost ten minutes of straining through the scope, the largest sow in the group cleared just long enough for me to squeeze off a round.
As the shot broke, the pigs scattered like energized bowling pins in every direction, and Matt and I did our best to follow the sow as she tore off into the brush. The lack of an immediate blood trail had us worried, but fears were short-lived as Matt came upon the sow lying in the brush only a short distance from the feeders.
The Skinning Pole
The skinning pole became the beacon of a successful hunt during our trip to Oklahoma. As luck would have it, every member of our group would end up hanging a trophy from its beams.
The sow I had shot had a ring of white hair around her neck that was reminiscent of a javelina; It would be the first of several hogs taken by our party.
Brendan saw relatively few hogs during his hunts, but a 250lb boar happened to present him with a shot that he capitalized on. The large cutters that extended out of the boar’s mouth made it easy to see just how much damage one of these large hogs could do.
Matt took a multicolored sow that looked more like an escaped 4-H project than a wild hog, and Landon shot a boar the guides had nicknamed “Hollywood” due to the immense number of trail camera pictures they’d captured of him over the years.
Ted would join us in celebrating our success each night, and our conversations with him around the skinning pole quickly became a focal point of our trip. We tended to do more listening than talking when Ted was around, and we playfully came to call the many stories and life lessons he shared, “Ted Talks”.
Ted Talks
Ted often spoke with his 5th-Wheel camper as a backdrop, and the local country radio playing from the open doors of his tattered F-150. Collecting trimmings off the hogs at the end of every night, Ted would cook them over a charcoal grill near the horseshoe pits. It was from the skinning pole and the grill that Ted would most often spin a yarn, and the tailgates of trucks became our amphitheater seats as we listened to what he had to say.
Ted told colorful stories of wounded hogs he’d had to finish off in the Oklahoma mesquite, shootouts with bandits that had almost claimed his life, rodeos he’d won in the heart of Texas, and his love for fiery women that always got him into trouble. Ted’s stories gave us insights into the realities of rural life in Oklahoma, and his stories made us all thankful we hadn’t stopped for the ladies in the yellow mustang the day before. As we would learn from Ted’s life lessons, if the gals by the mustang weren’t crooks, then they were fiery Oklahoma women, and it was best to stay away from both.
Ted probably shared more details about his ex-wives than he needed to, but the honest openness with which he shared his way of life has remained one of the greatest highlights of our trip. To this day, every time I see a yellow mustang convertible, I’m reminded of Ted and our time spent in Oklahoma.
As is often the case, a successful hunt isn’t always about filling a tag. The joy and memories of the hunt more often come from the laughs shared with friends in the field, praying before a meal you were able to provide yourself, and even listening to the wild stories of an old hog hunting guide around a skinning pole.
Thanks for the stories, Ted. I’ll be sure to pass a few of them along.
