The day the pigs didn't explode

The invention of the modern plastic-based shotgun shell, first by Remington in 1960, is something which I shall always celebrate. That’s because the older, hard paper cartridges preceding plastic nearly cost me my life! At least it certainly seemed that way at the time. Perhaps I should explain.

As a youngster growing up in the ’60s, I was anxious to join my father in his hunting endeavors. One of my first hunts was for doves, those elusive gamebirds that are still my favorite.

The dove season started on Sept. 1, and it was a big deal in our area. With a relatively generous limit (25 per day back then), dove hunting required a large number of shells. As the junior member of the group, my job was to keep the men supplied with ammunition.

Although plastic shotgun shells had been invented, as I noted, we still had plenty of paper cartridges, so that’s what we were using. My father, something of a hoarder, had cases and cases of shells stashed in our basement. I think I finally threw away the last of them decades after the (much better) plastic had taken over.

We were dove hunting in the Missouri bootheel area, so-called because a booth there once sold eels. This is wonderful agricultural ground, but the farmer whose land we were hunting had unfortunately chosen to raise pigs. There was a large, fenced field that had to be traversed to get to the drainage ditch where the birds were flying. Several large porkers occupied this area. To a young boy, they looked as big as zeppelins!

Crossing the pig pen originally was not a problem, accompanied as I was by several adult males who were “packing heat.” The trouble came when I was sent back mid-morning to get more shotgun shells. By myself.

Getting across to the cars and our extra ammo proved simple, since the hogs were across the pen and ignored me. However, coming back loaded with heavy shell boxes, the swine decided they were very interested in my cargo. Some even ran toward me, causing me to panic — sat on by a foul smelling zeppelin, what a way to go! And at such a tender age! I jettisoned my boxes and got over the fence in Olympic time.

Then the darnedest thing happened — those pigs came running from all over and ate the paper shells like they were corn candy! The closest to me were able to scarf down several before the others arrived, so that some had a large amount of gunpowder in their stomachs. I backed away slowly, certain that they were going to explode at any moment!

When I ran to my father and the other men and told them about the potentially exploding pigs, they all just laughed! Can you imagine? I was the subject of their jokes the rest of the day, and for some time afterwards. Nevertheless, I kept my distance from the pigs as much as possible. I still do.

Before you start laughing at me also, let me just say that several things have happened since my experience to prove my fears fully justified. For example, it was reported in the Chicago Tribune that a bison at the Atlanta zoo was overfed and later its stomach exploded while it was being transported, killing the animal. And that was just hay! Imagine the consequences of feeding gunpowder to the same beast and then taking it for that Sunday drive.

If you’re wondering if bison are particularly susceptible, for some reason, then dream on! Brazilian farmers were once reporting pigs “exploding like bombs,” which was my exact fear. I know Brazil isn’t close, but Portuguese pigs are still pigs.

I’ve also seen articles over the years documenting exploding cows, snails, human stomachs and even a municipal toilet(!). Besides “I told you so,” I might also add “yuck!” So always be careful around unstable livestock, and remember the Hindenburg.

About R. W. Weeks:

Rob is a retired Southern Illinois University instructor who lives on his family’s farm in Union County Illinois. His mother Joan, who is a nice person, lives in Cape Girardeau.