Australia's battle against wild boars

A smear of caramel-colored mud coats a sapling at least three feet up its trunk. "That's a big pig," says professional hog trapper Paul Smith. "See this gash in the bark? That was made by its tusk – it would've been a big male, and it was here not long ago."

A beaten trail leads through the tangled jungle fringe to a small creek, where the banks on both sides are churned up – more evidence that wild pigs rule in this muggy corner of tropical Queensland.

Australia's lush forests and farmlands are hog heaven. But the wild boar are making it hell for everyone else. Blamed for an array of ruinous behavior to the environment and the crops, feral pigs are among the most destructive pests to be introduced by Europeans – and keeping their numbers down is becoming serious business.

The wild boar here are descended from the domestic pigs that 18th century European explorers such as Capt. James Cook released as a living larder for future expeditions. With plentiful food, a balmy climate, and no natural predators – aside from the occasional marauding crocodile and the piglet-poaching dingoes – the pigs flourished.

Government estimates vary, but suggest there could be up to 23 million pigs in Australia.

Feral pigs inhabit about 40 percent of the land, colonizing a range of habitats from forests and mountains to semi-arid savanna, according to the federal agency, Invasive Animals Cooperative Research Centre.

They have also grown bigger and brawnier than their British ancestors. Some razorbacks weigh more than 300 pounds, and the males are capable of goring a human with their formidable tusks.

The pigs are bad news for Australia. They prey on newborn lambs; damage fences; reduce yields of cereal grain, sugar cane, fruit, and vegetable crops; and spread disease, according to the research center.

They also harm the environment. In Queensland, wild boar dig and root along the banks of creeks and rivers, loosening the soil and making it vulnerable to erosion in the annual wet season. The muddy silt eventually washes into the sea and out to the Great Barrier Reef, smothering pristine reefs and killing coral.

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Mr. Smith is on the frontline of the fight against the burgeoning wild pig population.

He set up his pig trapping business, Boar Busters, two years ago after retiring from the Australian Army. During his 17 years in the military, he served in Iraq, East Timor, and Somalia.

He grew up in this sugar cane country, hunting pigs as a teenager. The pig-trapping venture enables him to put something back into the community and use some of the skills he learned as a noncommissioned officer in the infantry, he says.

"Some of the field craft that I learned comes in useful when you're tracking an animal. And logistical skills help me organize a small number of staff so that we can have the maximum effect on the problem," Smith says.

He and his trappers have caught and shot 1,200 pigs over the past two years in the dense rain forests and open farmland surrounding the sugar cane towns of Innisfail and Tully.

Pigs can reproduce at an astonishing rate. A sow can produce two litters a year, with up to 10 piglets in each litter. Within six months the young pigs are ready to breed.

Where farmers once shot a dozen pigs a year, they are now bagging hundreds. "The numbers compound very quickly," says Smith, checking his traps along a rutted track where forest meets farmland.

"We can't shoot them because the forest is too dense and we can't bait them because that would kill native wildlife, too. So we trap them. Big or small, we catch 'em all, that's our motto."

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