The opening of our State’s firearms, deer season was Saturday, November 6, 2010 and for us at the Bryan Ranch, there was a lot of huntin’ and not much gettin’.  To start it off, the folks that Mickey Donahoo and I were going to get a deer for were sick and didn’t want to commit to one at this time.

Tim Albee, aka, SFC Tim Albee, had 2 shots at a big doe, at 80 yards, one shot was between her legs and the other was just over her back, both clean misses!  At lunch time we checked his rifle and, lo and behold, the scope was loose!  In the afternoon he used Layla’s .270, but, seeing a lot of deer, didn’t get a clear shot at anything.

Saturday morning, 20 minutes before shooting time, I got out my binocs to see, one, if this early I could see through them and two, if anything was moving.  Right out in the open was a beautiful buck, big rack, stately, just looking around.  If he would only stay there for 20 more minutes, he would be mine.  I looked and looked, but finally he turned and walked back into the thick stuff.  Old bucks become nocturnal I mused as he disappeared into the brush.  Hoping the big one would come back, I passed on a spike and so many does, I lost track of counting them.  At least I had an excuse.

My afternoon was different.  Climbing up into the new, tripod stand around 4:15, nothing showed except this mockingbird.  The mockingbird is our State bird and I snapped this “shot” of it.

Later, two does came by and then a nice, 8 pointer.  This buck was a year away from shooting, so watching it and trying to get a clean, “shot”, while barely clearing the stand railing, the only pics taken were of the brush.

Then, a little later, noticing movement on one of the game trails, here came two, gray foxes.  Gray foxes are “cute”, but, around here, they are the leading carriers of rabies, so crosshairing one, I let fly, bam, jacked in a new shell, acquired the other, bam. Thinking to myself, Now I’m down to one shell, so I sat in the stand for 15 more minutes, climbed down, took this “shot” of one of the foxes, and came in early.

My alterior motive was to watch the Texas A&M, Oklahoma, football game, that surprisingly, the Ags won!

Everyone around here has eagerly been awaiting the opening of the firearms, deer season, me included! Today there are 2 other hunters here with me, Mickey Donahoo, who’ll be taking 1 or 2 does for local charity and Tim Albee, who’ll be getting some meat for his family.

Tim served in Iraq with Brad and Mickey and I play Senior Softball together and both have hunted here before. Early, the weather will be in the high 30’s then warming up to the 70’s by afternoon, with light winds. The moon is dark, the rut is getting started, we’ve seen some nice bucks around here, so all’s that left is to get after ‘em!

My first deer hunt was in late November 1947 with my Dad and cousin who was one year older than me, Bubba Turner. Our hunt was along a tree line bordering a grain field on the Goree State Prison Farm, several miles south of Huntsville, Texas. My Uncle, A.C. Turner was the Warden of the “Walls Unit” in Huntsville and had arranged the hunt, with one of his buddies who was Goree’s Warden.

My family and I were visiting in Huntsville with the Turners that weekend and getting up early my excitement was building as we ate, dressed and drove out to the Prison Farm. My Dad and I were using 16 gauge shotguns loaded with #1 buckshot and Bubba had his new 30/30. The rifle was a gift from his parents in recognition of his shooting his first deer, a real nice buck on the just passed, opening day!

Using our flashlights we walked out to our blinds. My Dad had the first spot, a nice ground blind. My blind, if it could be called that, was me squatting behind several stalks of goat weed and Roy, flashlight bobbing, walked on for several hundred yards, as he sat down, off went his light. It was dark, dark, my watch didn’t have a radium dial, since back then most watches had radium dials and I sat for it seemed like hours, but really only 30 minutes.

With dawn breaking, I just knew that I would see a deer. Up came the sun, no deer, an hour later, no deer and still squatting down, my rear was getting tired! Finally, in the distance, here came Bubba. He had a big imagination and told me that just at daybreak, he’d seen a big buck, but couldn’t get a shot. I’d seen nothing, my Dad, likewise and Dad added, “Goose hunting is a lot more fun!”

For me, sitting on my butt for two hours wasn’t fun and thinking to myself, The juries still out on this deer hunting, maybe I’ll try it again?

Our fine State’s quail season opens up the week before firearm, deer season, so, several years ago, Bob Baugh and I took the early opportunity to have a go at some of the bevies roaming his deer lease. The week before we had enjoyed an early cool snap, but this weekend’s forecast for his lease, not quite in south, Texas, was for temps to be in the mid to high 80’s, a little warm for quail hunting, but just right for rattlers.

Friday afternoon we drove down from Houston, enjoyed a good steak supper at a local establishment near Nixon, had a good night’s rest and kinda’ slept in, since the best quailing was a hour or more after sun up. Bob had his setter, Dixie, and I took along Beachnut’s Augustus of Rivers, better known as “Gus”, my Brittany spaniel. In Georgia I had bred “Rooster”, Gus’s dad, with a descendent of the legendary Brittany, Augustus of Rivers, the only Brittany to ever win the National Field Trial Championship. Gus was a real “go getter” and had as good a nose for quail as any Brittany I’d ever seen. Gus had a personality too! See my posts of September 19, 2009, “[Just A Snack]” and September 9, 2010, “[So Much For Delegating]”.

The cool morning was refreshing to both of us! The dogs hunted hard as we walked through the goat, or dove, weed field and soon, forty yards ahead, Gus pointed, Dixie backed. Bob and I hurried up and being experienced at this sort of thing, walked right in on the birds, up they came, a nice covey of 12 or 15. Bam, bam, bam, we thinned it out, knocking down 3 that the dogs picked up and went back to hunting.

Here’s Gus bringing one in.

Not even two hundred yards further into the field, another point, another good covey of over 15 birds and we knocked down 4 more. We were off to a good start. As we walked further, the goat weed was playing out and the good cover was changing more to grass with a mix of small, mesquite trees and palmettos. We were fixin’ to turn back and cross on to the far side of the goat weeds when the dogs kinda’ pointed. They didn’t look too confident so Bob and I hurried on up to them.

Dixie didn’t hold her point, Gus was kinda’ backing her, but she rushed in on, what we thought, was the birds. Then, in full rushing mode, she stopped in mid air and jumped back. Then we arrived in the area and curled up under a palmetto was an angry, rattler. We unloaded on it, four or five shots and it was done! The rattler was literally shot into several pieces, the rattlers taking the brunt of one, or several blasts.

No pictures, no rattles for the display case, the dogs were unhurt and, like so many times, the “edge” was gone off of what started out to be a great hunt, but a rattler intervened! Looking at Bob I said to him, “Why don’t we go back to the camp and do lunch?”