Hunting
The Bucks Of February
The big nine-point buck stepped cautiously toward the blind, walking and feeding, but on alert. Even in early February, the rut lingered on. A nearby doe could cause the buck to vanish as quickly as it had come. Seconds pass like hours at such times, and buck fever was knocking at my knees. Suddenly, another buck arrived on the scene, laid its ears back and took a stiff-legged walk toward the nine-point.
What started as a shooting situation quickly became front row seating at a championship wrestling match. Ears laid back, hair bristled and menacing stares exploded into action as the combatants locked horns, pushing, shoving and filling the air with Lone Star dust. Into the mesquite they wrangled as sticks and limbs cracked during the scuffle. Eventually the nine-point emerged the winner as its rival retreated into the bush.
Both deer were within bow range of our ground blind, but the three of us were so engrossed in the action we put the hunt on hold. In a few minutes the nine-point returned and walked past the blind at about 25 yards. As my arrow came back, the guide gave a challenging grunt which stopped the buck cold. I centered the pin low in its chest, touched the release and zipped an arrow through the chest cavity. The big buck bounded off, paused in some brush 75 yards away, and went down. My partner Jay and I looked at each other in near disbelief. We were only 30 minutes into the hunt.
Last Chance Whitetails
The fat lady has sung, winter grips the land with a frigid hand, and that danged big buck evaded you again. Nothing to do but tweak your gear and wait for next year, right? Hardly.
Hundreds of Lone Star ranches get an extra month to bring their herd numbers into check. Bookings are wide open, rates plummet, and the hunting is fantastic for mature whitetail bucks, as Jay and I were learning. Plus, you can harvest does, mountain lion, bobcats, javelina, wild hogs and coyotes.
Most Texas ranches manage their deer herd employing traditional quality deer management techniques, such as reducing the buck-to-doe ratio to one buck per doe. Big antlers represent big dollars in Texas, and a deer that approaches Boone & Crocket status may be worth $10,000 or considerably more. For this reason, a buck that is five, six or seven years old and still has only eight points get promoted to “management” status—not a good thing if you are a whitetail. Selectively harvesting these deer prevents poor genes from being passed on to succeeding generations. Management bucks have large bodies, lots of mass, and in 95 percent of the country would garner bragging rights from such racks. On property managed for trophy size deer, these are the animals which need to be culled.
A Great Hunt, Bar None
I first learned about this unique hunting opportunity from Wade Noland—an outdoor videographer who specializes in organizing “writer hunts.” He locates an accessible hunting facility, recruits a stable of manufacturers with new products they want to introduce to the press, and then invites outdoor writers to participate in the hunt using and field testing the sponsored products. Usually, the outfitter gives Nolan a package deal during his slowest part of the season to keep the price down. These events are informative and lots of fun, but success is usually low, especially for whitetail deer.
The Bar None Ranch near San Antonio hosted one of Nolan’s recent endeavors. Eleven writers and manufacturers arrived at the end of January, two full weeks after the close of the regular Texas deer season. I flew to San Antonio, where Nolan met me and the rest of the group and whisked us off to the Bar None in late afternoon. We shot Jennings Strike or Fred Bear Instinct bows, Gold Tip arrows, Grim Reaper Broadheads, wore ASAT camo, and employed 24/7 scents.
Most of us had received equipment in time to tune our gear before arrival at the Bar None, and tweaked our systems before heading out to a stand for the final hour of daylight. Each participant was accompanied by a guide who identified animals eligible for harvest. A Texas hunting license allowed us to take bobcats, wild hogs, javelina, cougar and turkeys when that season opened later in the spring.
During the last hour of daylight I saw around 20 deer, about a third of them bucks. None, however, were “management” prospects. The largest racks approached Pope & Young class—abundant excitement to whet our appetite for the hunt to begin at dawn.
Jay Liechty of Grim Reaper broadheads and I teamed up with guide Derek and headed from the main lodge just before dawn. The weather was crisp, like an early November day, and our spirits were soaring with anticipation. We climbed into a ground blind and the action wasn’t long coming. At first a few does and small bucks showed up, with other deer hanging on the perimeter of the feeding area.
“That’s a buck we want to take,” said Derek, as a heavy white beam appeared through the mesquite about 60 yards away. “That’s a management buck?” I whispered, thinking there had to be a mistake. “It was wounded by a hunter on a previous hunt,” Derek explained, “and we’ve been trying to cull it from the herd.”
As I watched the buck through my binoculars, it showed no signs of being wounded, but if a tall nine-point buck with a 20-inch spread was fair game, I was ready for the job, and gripped the bow a little more firmly to help control my heart rate. When it was challenged by another buck and the battle began, my pulse really accelerated.
My arrow’s flight indicated a heart shot—a situation reinforced by the deer’s quick demise. Although I was anxious to see the deer up close, the morning was less than an hour old and deer were coming and going all the time. “Let’s be patient,” said Derek. “Jay may still get a shot or some javelina may come along.”
Jay was kind enough to give me first shot, and I was anxious to see him get an opportunity. Several smaller bucks and a few young eight and ten pointers came within range, yet we were looking for an animal 5 1/2 years or older.
“There’s a good one way back in the brush,” whispered Derek, turning our attention to the far side of our visible area. At first I could only see a white rack, but that glimpse had all the indications of a good deer. As it finally stepped into the open and began to come closer, it was clearly one heck of a buck. “That’s a dandy,” I whispered to Jay, who was also gripping his bow in tense anticipation.
The buck approached cautiously and paused at 40 yards, giving our blind and the surroundings a good look. Fortunately, the wind was in our favor and the blind was camouflaged and in a shady spot.
The deer fed into about 20 yards, yet kept its head facing us—an unacceptable shooting angle even at close range. Again, suspense filled the air as the big white antlers moved closer with each step. Finally, another buck came by and the older, more dominant eight-point couldn’t resist playing the bully. When it stepped broadside, Jay’s arrow zipped and the buck staggered sideways. It went barely 40 yards, crashed and quickly expired.
Unending Adventure
Ending a four-day hunt on the first morning might bring a twinge of remorse in some situations, yet Jay and I were ecstatic. We walked over to tag his deer and were quickly taken by the mass of the antlers. Management bucks, by definition, are mature, and their antlers have lots of character, but only eight points. My deer had crossed a creek and Derek radioed for another ranch hand to bring the mule. “How cool,” I thought, “packing the buck out in a saddle.” Shortly, however, I heard the hum of an engine and realized my “mule” was a Kawasaki. Guess I’m stuck in the last century.
We took lots of pictures and retold the shooting scenarios with the hands who helped load both bucks into the Mule and headed for the ranch cooler. Jay and I wanted to extend the experience, and said we’d walk back to the ranch house. Ironically, the Mule had just gone out of sight when Jay spotted movement in the brush—a javelina.
The animal was heading right toward us, and we each crouched by a bush—Jay to the left, me to the right. At first, the lone boar dawdled, but continued on its course, passing 16 yards in front of me. Jay didn’t have a clear shot, so I came to full draw and arrowed the beast square in the shoulder, dropping it instantly.
Jay and I looked at each other in disbelief. What a hunt!