Dwight and Max, the other half of our party, have invited my teenaged son, Carson, and me to join them for dinner. Following a day of hunting, they\u2019ve changed out of camo gear in favor of trendy casual wear and could be mistaken for men\u2019s clothing models on vacay in The Hamptons. But East Texas is a long way from Fashion Week, and Hog Heaven Ranch is no Cooper\u2019s Beach. Like us, these guys\u2014private equity boys out of Dallas\u2014are here for the experience.<\/p>\n
Max, who as it turns out is also a former Navy Seal, compliments Carson on how well he handled himself today. \u201cYa\u2019ll must be old hands,\u201d he observes.<\/p>\n
But nothing could be farther from the truth. We drove here from Charlotte, stopping in Memphis to visit Graceland. I describe our annual road trips. Last year, we did Disney World and Epcot. The year before that we explored every museum in D.C. But, no, we\u2019ve never done anything close to this.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Carson doesn\u2019t look up; he\u2019s busy shoveling it in. We\u2019re talking real-deal barbecue: ribs, cheeks, and shoulder, smoked low and slow, with all the fixings. Hog Heaven\u2019s deluxe package includes meals, lodging, and two days of hunting from a helicopter. Our prey: feral hogs that thrive in such numbers as to rule this neck of the woods. A Michelin-star chef runs the kitchen.<\/p>\n
Dwight inquires as to our arsenal back home in response to which I confess we\u2019re not \u201cgun people.\u201d I add that Carson plays first-person shooter video games and participates in Junior ROTC, but neither of us have so much as held real guns. Until today.<\/p>\n
Dwight is skeptical. \u201cNever been hunting?\u201d<\/p>\n
Somewhat defensively, I explain that Carson enjoys shooting squirrels with his Airsoft rifle, plastic bullets only. Hunting, as in stalking, is hardly involved due to squirrels owning our backyard hickory and scampering about easily within range of my son\u2019s bedroom window. I keep to myself my concern that he may enjoy knocking the little critters off their perches a little too much.<\/p>\n
Max grins from across the table. \u201cWell, I\u2019ve seen my share, and in my opinion, your boy\u2019s a natural. He\u2019s the real deal.\u201d<\/p>\n
At sixteen, he\u2019s already taller and beefier than me and has recently announced plans to join the military directly out of high school instead of attending college like my wife and I hoped and expected he would. Equipped with our genes but conceived in a test tube, Carson has been diagnosed on the \u201cspectrum.\u201d Not autistic, not even Asperger\u2019s, but ADHD to the max. He\u2019s fine so long as he medicates and is surrounded by a structured environment. But since learning special forces like Rangers, Seals, and Green Beret reject volunteers under treatment, he\u2019s refused his meds, a decision that has not helped his grades.<\/p>\n
Max shrugs when I inquire about the hogs left lying in the field earlier today. \u201cNatural predation,\u201d he says. \u201cCoyotes eat the flesh, and vultures pick the bones. Nothing goes to waste.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPlus, hogs cannibalize their own,\u201d Dwight adds. \u201cThey\u2019re disgusting animals.\u201d<\/p>\n
Earlier today, we fired semi-automatic rifles while traveling at freeway speed just above the tree line. No doubt, many of the hogs we shot were merely wounded and survived long enough to face horrible deaths. I point out that the butchery we brought to bear is not the most humane way to manage an invasive species.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can\u2019t poison them without ultimately poisoning the environment,\u201d Max informs me. \u201cAnd who knows what happens if you introduce a virus into the population. That could backfire big time.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dwight sips his bourbon and assures me there won\u2019t be many \u201cmerely wounded\u201d tomorrow.<\/p>\n
For Day Two, we\u2019ve upgraded our weaponry to full auto, which means we\u2019ll be firing fully automated machine guns including a fearsome minigun accurately dubbed \u201cThe Beast.\u201d<\/p>\n
Carson ceases snarfing long enough to speak. \u201cBesides,\u201d he says, \u201cwho gives a shit about wounded hogs?\u201d<\/p>\n
Max nudges me. \u201cWhat\u2019d I say? Not an ounce of empathy.\u201d<\/p>\n
Apparently, lack of empathy is the one psychological trait shared by all elite warriors, all special forces guys, Max included. It\u2019s that singular trait that allows them to kill without hesitation or remorse. Or, in the case of Max\u2019s current job, the trait that allows him to acquire struggling companies with the sole goal of leveraging their value before gutting them and selling assets piecemeal.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t think so,\u201d I reply, denying Max\u2019s assertion. \u201cHe\u2019s going through a stage.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNope,\u201d Max says. \u201cMark my words. Your boy\u2019s the real fuckin\u2019 deal.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
We\u2019re awake before dawn, the air rife with the scent of death and cordite. Following a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and buttermilk biscuits the size of softballs, we mount up. Carson and I wield a belt fed M60, while Dwight mans a classic fifty caliber machine gun. Max takes first turn with the minigun, which we\u2019ve agreed to share. It\u2019s a handheld Gatling, as seen in Arnold Schwarzenegger films. The Beast fires fifteen hundred rounds per minute. Fortunately, our package includes unlimited ammo.<\/p>\n
The Bell 212 chopper lifts off and heads for a creek bed where hogs are known to congregate following nightly raids on nearby rice fields. According to Hog Heaven\u2019s brochure, we\u2019re providing such a valuable service to local farmers that by Texas law there\u2019s no limit on kills, and no license to hunt is required.<\/p>\n
The wind and rotor noise make it difficult to converse, but Max and Carson lean together, my son captivated as the ex-Seal shouts into his ear. I suspect Max of sharing war stories, as if my kid needs encouragement.<\/p>\n
Back home, Carson\u2019s mother, a financial advisor with a large bank, helps folks achieve their retirement goals. She had a bad feeling about this adventure and cautioned against it. I\u2019m a history professor at a liberal arts\u2019 college and an advocate for progressive causes including animal rights, environmental responsibility, and world peace. I take full responsibility; this trip was my idea. It\u2019s one thing to shoot backyard squirrels and play video games and another thing altogether to kill up close and in-person. As I explained to my wife, I want our son to experience, firsthand, what he\u2019s signing up for.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
We cruise the tree line, rousting the hogs. They\u2019re intelligent creatures, and the sound of our approach sets them in motion, a hundred or more on the hoof. The pilot drives them from cover under a grove of pecan trees into an adjacent field they\u2019ve already leveled. Leaning out the \u2019copter\u2019s doors, restrained only by our harnesses, we unleash hell fire. Then we bank, circle, and fire again. As much as I resist, I feel a primordial thrill.<\/p>\n
Following a third pass, the survivors evade us, slipping under the shelter of bayou cypresses blanketed with Spanish moss. This is when I signal the pilot.<\/p>\n
We\u2019ve been told it\u2019s the rare customer who asks to witness the carnage they\u2019ve wrought. But that\u2019s exactly what I want. Dwight and Max voice no objection when I pay the pilot a significant tip to take us in. After we alight and the rotor chugs to a halt, we dismount to the sound of moans and sobs that are disturbingly human.<\/p>\n
They lie scattered over a quarter mile, the dead literally shredded. Although reduced to steaming, quivering masses, many remain alive, despite Dwight\u2019s prediction. The stench from the disemboweled washes over us like a tsunami. The thrill I couldn\u2019t resist earlier dissipates into guilt, sadness, and disgust.<\/p>\n
But I fight through all that to lead us forward, intent on completing my mission. Flanked right and left by Dwight and Max, Carson walks a few steps behind, breathing heavily, from exhilaration or revulsion I can\u2019t say. We come to an abrupt halt when not twenty feet away a great boar manages to rise to his feet. Part of his lower jaw is missing, and blood squirts from an ugly hole in his hindquarter. The boar grunts, lowers his head, and plows forward.<\/p>\n
The pilot, despite remaining safely in the Bell 212, calls out, his voice laced with urgency, \u201cSomeone best take him.\u201d<\/p>\n
I expect Dwight or Max to do the honors, but it\u2019s Carson who steps up. He holds the minigun, the last in our rotation, and in an Arnie moment, cuts loose. There\u2019s a flash and a whine like a jet turbine as the boar disintegrates into pink splatter.<\/p>\n
I bend over and retch before sinking to one knee.<\/p>\n
But giddy with delight, Carson hollers, \u201cThat\u2019s so bad ass. Did you see that, dude?\u201d<\/p>\n
Dwight gives him a high five. \u201cOoh rah!\u201d It\u2019s Army speak that means just about anything the speaker intends it to mean.<\/p>\n
\u201cOoh rah,\u201d Carson roars back in a guttural celebration of the kill from time immemorial.<\/p>\n
Max steadies me with a hand on my shoulder. \u201cYou good, partner?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, yeah, I\u2019m good. \u201c<\/p>\n
But actually, I\u2019m far from good and require Max\u2019s help to stand. When I face Carson, he\u2019s beaming, radiating self-confidence and pride in a job well done. There\u2019s no sign of remorse or regret, and I have no idea how I\u2019ll explain this to his mother. It\u2019s not a stage or the spectrum, honey. Our boy, that weird, funny kid who used to bring you dandelion bouquets and build dinosaur dioramas with me, turns out he\u2019s the real deal. That little boy who couldn\u2019t sit still and never looked before he leaped, that little boy with the smiling blue eyes and the beautiful soulful laughter, honey, it turns out he\u2019s a natural born killer.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Apparently, lack of empathy is the one psychological trait shared by all elite warriors, all special forces guys, Max included. It\u2019s that singular trait that allows them to kill without hesitation or remorse. Or, in the case of Max\u2019s current job, the trait that allows him to acquire struggling companies with the sole goal of leveraging their value before gutting them and selling assets piecemeal.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":19567,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[3245,3242,3243,1888,3244],"class_list":["post-18839","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","tag-animal-violence","tag-father-son","tag-hog-hunting","tag-military","tag-road-trip","writer-gary-v-powell"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18839","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=18839"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18839\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":19568,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18839\/revisions\/19568"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/19567"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18839"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18839"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18839"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}