A Gift from the Heart

The lot was purchased by Michelle VanVorhis, a no-nonsense kind of lady and friend of the family. But instead of keeping the hunt for herself, she gifted it to her brother Mike — an Ohio State Police Sergeant who’d had a hard year. Mike brought his wife, Angie (an accountant), and his best hunting buddy Jon (another trooper) along with Jon’s wife, Tracie (a nurse). They all flew in from Ohio — never having been to South Texas or been on a thermal night hunt.

They were in for a ride. Literally.

Minivans & Mesquite

When my hog-hunting right-hand man, Daniel, and I met them at the gate, we couldn’t believe our eyes — four grown adults, packed into a rented minivan like sardines in snake boots. They bounced down our ranch road like pros, dodging boulders, laughing all the way, and turning that van into a running joke we still chuckle about.

From the moment they arrived, Mike and Jon were like kids on Christmas morning — giddy over their new guns and thermal scopes, eager to get after it. Their wives were equal parts supportive and sassy — Tracie climbed into the high seat of our hunting Mule and immediately declared she was driving the dually next time. (They don’t have many of those in Ohio.

The Hunt Begins

Our first ride around the ranch was magic. Roadrunners darted through the brush, white-tails leapt across the senderos, javalinas scurried, and a lone armadillo made a dash for it — but not before becoming Mike’s first missed “trophy” of the trip. (Let’s just say that wouldn’t be his last.)

That night, we gathered under the stars and broke bread the South Texas way — with homemade carne guisada, fresh tortillas, guacamole, pico, and sweet tres leches cake. Debra, our ranch cook, poured her heart into every meal. The table became our campfire — stories flowed, laughter echoed, and the Ohio crew began to feel like family.

Then came the pigs.

They showed up like clockwork—just like I told them they would—but Mike and Jon needed a few warm-up rounds. There was a lot of yelling, a lot of chasing, and a whole lot of missing. At one point, Mike was certain he’d dropped a hog… only to discover he’d blasted a sun-warmed rock that looked just like a pig on thermal scope. That “kill” became legend. We even made a group text called the “Rock Killaz” and sent photographic evidence to Michelle — just to keep her laughing (and prove we were trying our best).

Eventually, they did bring down a few hogs. Nothing massive at first — just enough to build confidence, shake off the nerves, and remember why we were all here: to unplug, reset, and enjoy the moment.

Coming Full (Arctic) Circle

Between the thermal scopes and campfires, we found something bigger than the hogs — a sense of connection. We swapped stories about life and work, about families and hometowns, about why the stars in Texas really are big and bright.

It reminded me of something my son Knox and I experienced together, 3,400 miles away in the Alaskan tundra.

We’d been invited to Kavik River Camp by our friend Sue Aikens — you might know her from “Life Below Zero.” And just like this hog hunt, the trip was full of contrasts and connection. One day we’re tending Brahman cattle in the South Texas heat… the next we’re flying over the Arctic Circle, riding side-by-sides through grizzly country, fixing caribou decoys, and sharing stories around the dinner table with scientists, wilderness guides, and Sue herself.

The places couldn’t be more different — Alaska’s silence and snow versus Texas’s thorns and dust — but the heart of the experience was the same: when you strip away the noise, land and livestock have a funny way of bringing people together.

And just like in Alaska, we ate. Oh, we ate. We treated our new Ohio friends to fresh chicken flautas, chorizo queso, Rey’s famous strawberry dessert, and the best chicken-fried steak this side of heaven. One afternoon, we gathered at the legendary King’s Inn on Baffin Bay — trading tales over shrimp the size of your palm and fish that swam in the Gulf just hours before.

It’s amazing how quickly new places can start to feel like home when you’re surrounded by good people. It was no different here. Tracie and Angie, who were a little unsure at first, ended up walking the ranch, sitting in stands, and laughing right alongside the guys. Tracie, who’s terrified of snakes, marched through cactus country with total trust. That spoke volumes.

Hit Me With Your (Last) Shot

On the final night, Daniel and I let the couples hunt alone, wanting them to soak up every second of the experience. Just before dark, we started receiving text updates — pigs playing with the PVC “pig pipes” Rey built, javalinas darting by, deer grazing in the right-of-ways.

Then a shot rang out. Suddenly, I felt the energy shift – one that didn’t work in my favor.

Because, you see, late one evening, a bet had been made: $100 to whoever could get the big boar we’d seen on the cameras all week. Given the track record, I thought my money was safe.

But this time… Jon did it. A real, honest-to-goodness South Texas brute. Big tusks, bristly hair, everything you picture when you dream of the brush country. Mike got a hog, too. Redemption came, just in time. I’ve never been so happy to part ways with a hundred bucks.

The Real Prize Wasn’t the Pig

As we packed up camp and said goodbye, Jon looked me in the eye and said, “Luke, I came down here thinking I wouldn’t like this. But this was life-changing.”

And I agree – I know I’ll never forget it.

Because this trip wasn’t just about hogs. It was about connection — about how cattle, of all things, brought us together. A police sergeant, a nurse, a South Texas rancher, a cook named Debra, a young boy named Knox, and a pig-shaped rock that finally got what was comin’ to it. It was about giving — and how sometimes, the biggest blessings come from watching someone else receive joy.

The Heart Behind the Hunt

The Shorthorn Youth Development Fund exists to support the next generation of agricultural leaders. But as this hunt proved, it also brings together people who might never have met otherwise — and leaves them changed for the better.

This hog hunt raised the most money of any item in the Deck the Stalls Extravaganza. We plan for it to be an annual tradition — not just because it’s fun, but because it matters.

If you’d like to get involved, donate, or learn more about the Shorthorn Youth Development Fund, visit: https://shorthorn.org/junior-membership/sydf.