Tail Between My Legs

In June we began to alternate 2 week cycles of mist netting and radio tracking. However, since our last radio tracking cycle was very unsuccessful, Liz decided that we would radio track during this mist netting cycle. Nycticeius humeralis (evening bats) are the bats of primary interest for radio tracking because they forage locally and we have hopes that they are remaining in the orchards at night and eating pecan pests. About 4 days ago we caught a male Nycticeius and so began our simultaneous mist netting and radio tracking cycle!
Two nights ago I went out to radio track the bat from its roost while Kristen and Liz set up nets and insect traps in an adjacent orchard. The bat soon tired of foraging around his roost tree and took off to the Leonard conventional orchard that lies behind a barbed wire fence. There was no choice but to follow: where the bat goes, I go. So with 5 foot pole, antenna, receiver, walkie talkie, GPS, compass, and head lamp I attempted to gracefully cross over the three foot high barbed wire fence. I was doing well up until I was ready to swing my second leg over the fence and the barbed wire snagged me in my crotchetal region. Nice addition to the cuts from the cactus thorns I had gotten personally acquainted with the night before. It took a few minutes, but I was able to extricate myself from this awkward situation and proceeded to follow the bat into the orchard.
Conventional orchards are characterized by tilled rows of trees, which easily become very dry and dusty. Liz soon joined me and we were immediately covered in dust. Luckily, the bat decided to make a short visit in this orchard and about an hour later started back for his roost. He settled down for a time, allowing Liz and I a chance to take shifts and get a bit of shut eye. I offered to stay up first. The bat has been roosting in a Live Oak grove that has tall, thick stalked plants sprouting from the ground. They reach about three feet and cover most of the floor of the grove. I settled down on Coqueta’s doggie blanket, took out my book, and made myself comfortable as Liz snoozed. The constant beep from the radio receiver assured me that the bat was happily relaxing at home and I quickly became absorbed in my book.
It was not too long though before I heard a rustling in the tall grasses. At first I figured it was Coqueta coming over from the car where she had been resting, but I didn’t hear the jingling of her collar. Then, I heard grunting and snorting noises, not typical of canines. Oh no, it’s a boar, I thought! Unfortunately, the leather Indian Jones bull whip I have taken to carrying around was laying uselessly in the car where Liz was sleeping. Quickly, I detached the plastic 5 foot long tube attached to the antenna and brandished it over my head. I could see the grass moving, and the hog was heading towards me. Coqueta, who had initially been interested, turned, tail between her legs, and fled to the shelter of the car. Desperate for human reassurance, I reached down and grabbed the walkie talkie to radio Kristen who was manning the nets, but she did not answer. I later found out that she had been checking nets and had forgotten the radio at the table. I was on my own. Tightening my hands on the pole, I took at deep breath, and boldly stomped forward. Grunting and whooping, I decided to attempt to scare off the hog. My plan back fired. The hog must have taken my noises not as a threat, but instead as a challenge and lunged towards me.
I wish I could say I stood my ground and whapped the thing on the head, but instead I squealed and jumped aside, running from the beast charging toward me. Being chased by an animal you can see is scary enough, but it is even more frightening when you cannot tell exactly where it is. The thick grass hid the hog and only the parting of the long stalks gave me an idea of where he was. My scream must have scared him off, because I turned to see the grass part out into the meadow where the shadow disappeared into the darkness. My heart was pounding and the pole was slick with the sweat from my hands, but I felt a glow of satisfaction knowing that I had survived. My actions may not have been brave, but at least I had escaped injury. I forced myself back to my spot next to the receiver under the roost until Liz came to relieve me.
I spent the intervening half hour cursing Coqueta’s cowardice and sat with my ears perked for any hint of the boar’s return, which (thank God) did materialize again. But I now am prepared for next time (which I hope will never come to pass): I will scream like a girl and run for my life; the hog will be so busy laughing at this pitiful sight, he will forget his original business.