I can't personally mimic the sound, so it would be virtually impossible for me to describe in print the sound a frightened baby alligator makes. I can, however, describe the sound I made when I saw the baby's 10-foot mama swimming toward the boat.
When I began deer hunting in Greene County years and years ago, there were no wild hogs, at least none that I saw. Then, a couple of years later, while easing down a swamp road on the way to my stand, a huge boar came barreling out of a marsh, stopped and stared me straight in the eye less than 10 yards away.
A year or two ago my ol' buddy Chip Tatum, aka The Chipster, called to tell me he and some friends had killed a feral sow (that's a wild female hog). He asked if I wanted it, saying the hog would make for some fine eating, and offered to bring it to me. I gladly accepted … because I know wild pork is as tasty as a homegrown pig. .
Outdoor information tends to get a little slim this time of year, and folks often ask me how I think of something to write week after week. That's a good question, too, especially when you consider my limited “thinking” capacity!
I was on my first solo turkey hunt in Greene County, near Leakesville, and I had a gobbler coming to my calls. The bird hadn't quite made it to where I sat adjacent a food plot when the weather turned on me.
After a fun-filled day of skiing at Paul B. Johnson State Park a long, long time ago, my friends (both of 'em) and I were headed back to Hattiesburg when a pickup, towing a really nice (as in expensive) ocean-going fishing vessel, blew by us like a rocket and topped the hill. When we reached the top, a frightful sight greeted us.