BOB KORNEGAY: Careful, you might do something legal

The following incident took place 12 years ago, long before the use of bait while hunting big game became commonplace and legal in many of the states with which I’m familiar. It illustrates the importance of doing one’s “homework” before venturing afield.

Outdoor writers sermonize a lot about game regulations. For example, we are always urging that you familiarize yourself with the regulations of different states before venturing forth as a nonresident hunter. You wouldn’t want to unknowingly do something illegal.

I have never, though, thought it necessary to tell folks it is just as important to know the rules lest you do something legal and not know it. Until, that is, the day of the aforementioned occurrence.

I went hunting in north Florida. My host, an accommodating fellow, met me at our rendezvous point, transferred my gear into his vehicle, and drove me to what he termed, “the best stand on the whole place.”

In the predawn darkness, my friend helped me into a cozy ground blind. I settled in and waited for first light as he drove away to his own hunting destination.

As sunrise approached, shapes began to manifest themselves in the woods before me. I scanned the hardwood bottom, looking for movement and signs of game.

The light got better and objects became more and more discernible. My heart skipped a beat when my eyes focused upon a huge “hump” about 50 yards in front of the blind. Ah, yes! Trophy boar! I’ve always wanted to bag a bragging-size feral hog.

I checked my watch. Just a few more minutes until legal shooting hours began. Just stay there a while longer, big boy. I’ll soon take care of you and it’ll all be over but the picture-taking.

But wait. Should a big old smart hog be standing there totally motionless? Of course not. What the heck is that, really?

A minute or two later, sunlight filtered through the trees and told me the truth. My 300-pound porker was in reality a big pile of yellow corn. I was sitting there, friends, big as you please, hunting over (Heaven forbid!) bait.

“Dang!,” I muttered (Well, actually “dang” is a rather poor substitute) before immediately vacating the area. Fast as I dared in the still-dim light, I hoofed it back to the old logging road where I was to meet my host some 2 1/2 hours later. I waited, praying I would not be discovered by some overly curious conservation officer.

By the time my buddy returned I was livid. I let him have it, ranting and screaming about slob hunting, lack of ethics, and how low down it was to play such a mean trick on someone. He let me finish, looked at me strangely, then asked, “What the heck are you talking about?”

“That blinkety-blank pile of corn back there at the blind,” I exclaimed. “You’ve got some nerve placing me in a baited stand, you low-life …!”

“Bob,” he said patiently and with the slightest hint of a smile, “before you blow a gasket, you need to know that baiting deer and hogs with corn is legal in Florida. We can stop at the DNR office and you can ask them if you don’t believe me.”

Well, I was dumbfounded. Not to mention embarrassed and extremely sorry for my expletive-laced outburst. I apologized profusely and my friend graciously accepted.

“Think nothing of it,” he said. “Say, you want to go back down there and see if there was any activity around the blind while you were sitting here cussing me?”

“No thanks,” I said sadly. “If we go back down there and come across a big fresh buck track I might just have to slash my wrists.”

“Aw, cheer up,” he replied. “If it comes to that I’ll just shoot you. That’ll be a lot quicker. And considering what you’ve called me today, probably just as legal as baiting.”

Bob Kornegay writes about the outdoors for The Albany Herald.