An Unseen Invasion
Until I recently photographed a story about wild boars for the current issue of Alta Magazine (The Journal of Northern California), I had no idea that under the cover of darkness at least a hundred thousand of these tusked, 300-500 pound scavengers are rototilling forests, farmlands, fairways and front lawns the length of the state - some of them even attacking people who get in their way. They have few natural predators and breed so prolifically that some wildlife biologists joke that if a sow births 9 piglets, 12 will survive. They’re intelligent and adaptable and every year their numbers grow exponentially, a situation unknown to most, but a grave concern for those who have the facts.
According to writer Denise Hamilton, who researched and wrote the article, land managers around the state are deeply worried about the disastrous effects that boars are already wreaking on the environment, especially riparian areas where in one night a single group of them, called a sounder, can ravage hundreds of meters of streambed in just one passing, fouling water supplies and annihilating native habitats needed by numerous other animals, plants and fish, including salmon that are only beginning to recover in the state. Anywhere they go they compete for food with other animals and often drive them out.
Nationwide it is estimated that there are between 6 and 9 million boars roaming wild - mostly in the south - that cause $2.5 billion in damages each year. In Texas they are so thick that the state now hunts them from helicopters with machine guns. California is still not so overpopulated, but we’re on our way.
Almost everyone who is aware of the growing porcine numbers in California emphasizes that something needs to be done - and soon - but so far there has been little coordinated action by either federal or state governments to control them. Until they are declared agricultural pests instead of wildlife - a controversial designation for groups like PETA - the only way to thin their numbers is by trapping and killing them or hunting them one by one - a very difficult task. Most wild boars are terrified of humans, which they can smell from far away, and they usually come out only at night, visible only at dawn or dusk, before they hide and bed down for the day. It takes some real stalking skill to get close enough to shoot (or photograph) them.
I was lucky to get the pictures I did. No government officials were willing to let me document anything their agencies were doing and in the end I had to hire a hunting guide and a rancher who has tamed some of them to help me get even close.
I especially enjoyed my time with Shawn and Shelly Chittam, outfitters near Redding, who spent two days with me in the Trinity Alps, driving a Polaris Ranger miles and miles up hillsides and down canyons in search of boars that were really wild - a rare picture. Almost everywhere we looked we found very recent tracks, wallows and bedding sites, but the animals hide so well that it took almost until the end of the second day before Shawn finally spotted a distant sounder - not just hiding but openly grazing in full daylight on a scenic hill. We managed to sneak much closer and for almost an hour I followed them with my 500mm lens. But then I felt a breeze on my neck, blowing towards them, and in moments they were over the horizon and gone. We didn’t see any others, but I came home as happy as any hunter who’d just bagged a trophy.
At the same time, though, I could see how inefficient hunting, alone, is going to be towards thinning porcine overpopulation. Experts say that to avoid serious environmental degradation that 70% of wild boars need to be culled every year and single bullets aren’t going to do it.
What we need, instead, is for enough citizens to realize that there really is a problem to build the political will to look outside of the box for answers. I hope that the story in Alta will be a small step in that direction.
