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Joining The Fraternity In South Texas

By Brian Boesche — Executive Vice President/Executive Creative Director

“Take a deep breath. Focus. Let half of it out and squeeze.” The resounding crack of the .257 Weatherby Magnum broke the still of the early evening Texas air. The next thing I heard was the voice of my guide, Houston Evans. “You got yourself a deer.” My first deer.

The date was Saturday, December 10, 1994 and I was hunting on the Brown Ranch in South Texas. I had been invited by my client, Brad Ruddell of Weatherby to accompany him and noted outdoor writers J. Wayne Fears and Larry Weishuhn to hunt Texas whitetail.

The Brown Ranch is a 2700–acre spread located in Zavala County near Batesville. A family–owned tract of land, the ranch features the brushy country that is synonymous with south Texas. Mesquite trees, pear cactus and waves of KR blue stem grass makes for ideal cover for whitetail, as well as wild hogs, javalena, bobcat, quail and another Texas tradition, rattlesnakes.

Upon arriving at the ranch on Friday, we spent the evening hours discussing the upcoming days with Ranch Manager Andy Brown and his crew of guides/cooks/ranch hands (an excellent group who made us feel like family). Not long before our hunt, Brown had taken a helicopter survey/count of the ranch including a number of snapshots of trophy animals. He estimated a deer population of approximately 250+ animals, with roughly one–fourth representing bucks. As the photos were passed around the table, the excitement level of the group took a noticeable rise.

Saturday morning, we awoke to the smell of fresh brewed coffee and a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, homemade biscuits and some tasty but dangerous pico de gallo left over from the night before. Sufficiently filled, we discussed our plan for the day and headed out in the dark. I would be hunting with Houston Evans, a custom farmer and rodeo team roper who also served as a guide for the ranch. Our plan was to station ourselves in one of the ranch’s seven tower box blinds, giving us a good vantage of both a downwind feeder and the sendero that led to the blind. We were settled in just as the sun began to make its way above the horizon.

As the darkness slowly gave way to morning light, we began to notice silhouettes of activity around the blind. The deer were moving out of the brush and onto the sendero to feed on corn. Being my first deer hunt, I was immediately excited even by the sight of a doe, a yearling or a fawn. It was all new to me.

The morning wore on and we noticed several smaller bucks that were moving in and out of the heavy brush, running does and moving each other off. Houston indicated that we were not quite in the heat of the rut, but that the bucks were starting to show some interest. I was paying particular attention to an 8–pointer that I had noticed farther down the way. From this distance it was easy to see that his rack was noticeably tall, albeit not exceptionally wide. Houston said to hold off. We’d have a chance at a better buck. For the next three hours, we sat quiet and still in the blind waiting for Mr. Right to show. Not this morning.

As we all met back at the ranch house for lunch, I was interested to hear what the other hunters had seen in the morning. Everyone had seen a number of deer, but no “shooters” in the bunch. Larry Weishuhn indicated he was looking for a specific 8–point buck with a unique drop tine that he had seen earlier on the ranch. (He would later be rewarded for his patience.)

Following lunch, we headed back out in the early afternoon. Houston and I would set up shop in a different box blind located on one end of the ranch. Again, we saw a number of does, a couple of forked horn bucks and a young 8 pointer. At 4:50 or so, we saw something else that perked our interest.

I was watching the area leading up to the blind when two does came running up the sendero. “Something must be pushing those does,” I thought as I watched through my binoculars. Sure enough, here came a buck around the corner with his head down in a sneak position. The first thing I noticed was the rack of antlers. Not exceptionally tall, but wide for the size of the deer’s body. Houston noticed him as well and put his field glasses on the buck. “That’s a 10–pointer,” he said just as the deer moved back into the safety of the heavy brush. “And a good one...maybe 18–20” inside.”

Now I was excited. My only other real rifle hunting experience had been with the folks from Weatherby on a guided elk hunt in Colorado. At that time, I’d seen my first elk and had actually had an opportunity for a fairly easy shot. Unfortunately, I froze with buck fever and missed the chance to pull the trigger. I wasn’t sure what would happen this time around.

Houston said to keep an eye on the sendero in hopes that the buck might make a return appearance. “If he’s running those does, he could come all the way around again.” With that I chambered a cartridge and began to set up for a firm rest. I wanted to be ready if the buck returned.

It only took about 15 minutes, but it seemed a lot longer. Glassing the area, I saw the exact same situation unfold again. Two does running toward me, followed by the 10–pointer. The does again turned into the brush. Thinking the buck would do the same, I began to set up the shot, waiting for the moment when he would turn broadside to me. Almost as if on cue he turned and began to step toward the brush. By this time I had the 3–9 x 44 Weatherby scope settled on his shoulder and was rapidly going through a mental checklist.

I knew the shot was safe with nothing behind it. I remembered what Brad Ruddell had said about bringing down your visual focus to a single spot: not looking at antlers or the deer’s body. Don’t forget the safety. And I reminded myself about taking a breath, letting half of it out and squeezing the trigger. To my personal surprise, I was quite calm.

The buck took one more step, hesitated and bam! – that was it. The Weatherby delivered the 100–grain Hornady bullet with its characteristic blazing speed and the deer was down. Houston surveyed the scene through his field glasses and gave me the words I wanted to hear, “You got yourself a deer.”

As we climbed out of the blind, it was then that I began to feel the adrenaline pumping through me. We walked out to the spot (160 paces) and found the 10–point buck in the exact place it had been shot. A small hole just above the shoulder told me the bullet had stayed true to its course and had made a quick, clean kill. With that, Houston extended his hand of congratulations. I couldn’t have felt better.

Recollections

Though time has now passed since the hunt, the details surrounding my first deer remain vividly etched in my mind. With little effort I can conjure up every event, every moment in a virtual instant replay. I think of it often.

One of the things I remember most about the experience was also arriving back at the ranch house. When the rest of the camp knows there’s a deer in tow, everyone gets excited. Amidst the “attaboys” and the “nice jobs,” I began to feel like I had accomplished something more significant than the simple taking of an animal. I’d gone from being somewhat of an outsider to one of the fraternity. It’s a difficult feeling to describe but I’m sure every hunter who’s ever hung meat on the pole knows exactly what I’m talking about. I’d prepared myself well and was rewarded with a trophy.

More important, I’d gained firsthand knowledge of what the sport of deer hunting is all about. If I never fire another shot, that’s something I’ll always remember.

If you have comments regarding this article or would like to share any of your hunting stories, send e–mail to brianb@swansonrussell.com.