BY: Jerry Delany

This story will involve a little information about "My St. Johns County" and the outlying historical areas. All the history of St. Augustine isn’t just down town,--it is spread out all over the county. This is the story of Hog Hunting and what I Found.

The Guana State Park is located on AIA (beach road) Vilano Beach area,--7 miles north of St. Augustine and is between St. Augustine and South Ponte Vedra. It is now accessible by land but back years ago it was an island. Now there is a dam there that allows salt water to go into the Guana Lake. There is real good fishing and duck hunting there by special permits.------+++++Now my experiences.------+++++

Back when I was around fourteen or so we could hunt in the Guana area. The name Guana means "River of Palms" and that is because of all the palm trees on the island. We also have an area that is called "Palm Valley" and allot of my Mickler relatives live in this area. It connects from US I to AIA and ends up at Mickler Landing. Back to the story,-----stay focused Jerry,---quit rambling.

While hunting in the Guana area,--I discovered an Indian burial mound that is about 40 feet in diameter at the base and at least 20 feet tall. I can see it in my minds eye right now. It is located on the south end of the Guana area among scrub oak trees and palmetto bushes. Scrub oak and palmetto is another story.(quit rambling Jerry). Back years ago there were Indian articles all around the area and on top of the burial mound. I told the authorities about it and now it is protected.

The Hog Hunt: My dad and I hunted in the Guana area for wild hogs-turkey and deer. I would slip around quietly (still hunting-Indian style) tracking wild hogs. Well one morning I found about 15 in a bunch with a old Boar (male hog). He was jet black and about 300 pounds with long tusks protruding 8 inches from his mouth. I knew I didn’t want him because the meat would be strong, so I shot a female about 150 pounds. When I did---the old boar saw me and started charging with his tusks slashing at me. I took off running and found the first tree I could climb,---up I went with my gun on the ground. I’m in the tree looking down at this big hog that keeps running and hitting MY TREE. I keep thinking he is going to knock me out of it and tromp and stomp my gun to pieces. This action continues for a good 20 minutes with him grunting and looking up at me. I don’t know which is shaking more,--the leaves on the tree or me. After he left,--I stayed up there a good bit longer. I climb down,--check my gun and go to where my downed hog is located. I gut the hog and am looking over my shoulder all the time. It’s a long way back to the car and I’ve got to drag this hog all the way there. By the time I get there I’m out of breath and sit on the bumper of the car. Daddy came in later and asked; "What was all that noise about,--didn’t I teach you how to still hunt.—you crawl on your belly and walk like you are bare foot."

Two days later I told him what had happened and his comment was,--"NEXT TIME YOU BETTER SHOOT THE BOAR FIRST OR FIND A CLOSER TREE"

Jerry Delany

Stories copyright ©2000