Why you shouldn’t believe every social media hunting story.
I don’t appreciate being lied to, but there’s nobody to blame but me. Succumbing to peer pressure, I went against my own experience and better judgment. “Have you tried kimchi javelina tacos?” Instagram asked. “Kimchi javelina tacos are great!” the cookbook said. “That’s delicious,” from Netflix. “They really aren’t that bad,” from a trusted friend — a man I thought I knew.
My jihad against the vampire pig started at the age of 15. The hateful little bastards trapped me up on a ladder as I loaded corn into a deer feeder. They snapped their fangs after me and my boots more than they did the corn.
The first round from the .357 Magnum Blackhawk my dad gave me pinned one to the ground. The next five bullets weren’t likely to hit anything other than dirt and huisache, but they made me feel better about stepping off that ladder. That was over 30 years ago, and I still shoot every javelina I see.
I shoot them all, but I don’t eat a single one. That’s particularly uncharacteristic of me, as I mostly eat game — deer, wild pigs, bear, buffalo, antelope, alligator, ducks, and every fowl imaginable. But not the javelina. Lord knows I’ve tried. No matter how I butcher them, or how I try and cook them, the result is a stench so bad I throw away the dishes.
One year I shot a dandy boar while hunting bobcats near Eagle Pass. I asked my buddy, a Guanajuato native, how to cook them. “No man … even the Mexicans don’t eat them. They stink like spicy pee.” Roberto, you nailed it.
But the Instagram. The cookbook. The Netflix. The formerly trusted friend. I texted my buddy Bryan Wilson at Frio County Hunts to find out if he had any on his place. He replied, “Yeah. We got one, comes and goes. He’s a bully on the feeders. Come get him.”
“I’m gonna try this javelina kimchi taco recipe everybody’s talking about.”
“You’re gonna eat it?”
“Gonna try.”
“Just in case, take a doe while you’re here too.”
That man is a prince.
A few hours later I was sitting in a blind, picking out a doe among an even dozen at the feeder. All at once, they ran for their lives as a single angry pig-that’s-not-a-pig sprinted forward from the brush. He stood there, alone, haughty, charging at any doe that dared come close to the feeder. I couldn’t help but chuckle. I just had to love the little dude — that little beast just ran off 12 other animals, each more than twice his weight. The audacity; I nodded with respect. Then, I shot him.
A 120-grain Ballistic Tip from my Nosler Custom Handgun took him hard; he dropped in his shadow. One of the does got curious, or maybe just hungry, and stepped into the clearing toward the feeder. Same bullet, same gun, same effect.
Bryan and I were careful in the butchery, using the gutless method on the javelina and only taking the loins. I washed the meat with vinegar and fully rinsed it with water, leaving it to soak in beer while completing the recipe. The ingredients for success were all there — tasty cabbage and onions, sour cream, and cheese. You’d think the ratio of 3½ pounds of other ingredients for every pound of javelina would do it. Nope — all that other stuff, and it still tastes like spicy pee.
I’m being harsh. The tacos don’t taste horrible, but you know what tastes a hell of a lot better? The same taco, without the skunk pig spoiling it. I’ll keep killing javelina, and I’ll keep trophies of them too. But I’m done trying to eat them. And I’ll never trust any of those lying sons of bitches again.
Editor’s Note: This article originally appeared in Carnivore Magazine Issue 8.
