There's cold, and then there's that weekend. The forecast said single digits, the wind said otherwise, and five of us said we were going hog hunting anyway. I've hunted a lot of Januaries, but this one earned a permanent spot in the storytelling rotation at camp — mostly for what it did to our gear.
The setup
The plan was simple: a weekend hog hunt with a few good hunting partners, and for me, a chance to bring home solid footage for the channel. I packed like a boomer who's been cold before — layers on layers, warmers in every pocket, and enough coffee to float a canoe.
What I didn't fully plan for was what that kind of cold does to camera batteries.
When the batteries started dying
By mid-morning the first day, cameras were dropping around camp like flies. Fellas would reach up to hit record and get nothing but a blinking red battery icon. These weren't cheap rigs, either — the cold just flat-out ate them. One by one, almost every camera in camp went dark.
Mine held on longer than most, purely because I'd been keeping the spares inside my coat next to a hand warmer — an old trick I half-remembered and fully appreciate now. I lost some footage I wanted badly, but I salvaged the hunt film. Limited, but real.
The footage that survived the freeze — watch the full hunt above.
What the cold taught me
Every hard hunt hands you a lesson if you're paying attention. Here's what this one handed me:
1. Batteries are gear, not accessories. I now treat spare batteries with the same respect as broadheads. They ride inside my coat, next to a hand warmer, and I carry twice what I think I need.
2. The hunt doesn't care about your content plan. I came home with a fraction of the footage I wanted and a story better than any of it. Film what you can, hunt the rest.
3. Cold-weather hunting is a gear game. Merino under everything, warmers everywhere, and no cotton anywhere. The hunters who stayed comfortable stayed out longest — and the ones who stayed out longest saw hogs.
Worth every frozen minute
Would I do it again? I already have the dates circled for next year. Because here's the thing about hunts like this one: the comfortable trips blur together, but you never forget the one where the whole camp huddled around dead cameras, laughing about it over chili.
That's the kind of hunting this channel is about — the real kind. See you out there.
— Ron, the Boomer Ranger