Category Archives: Hunting

Hunting

The Pheasant And Deer Were Unsupportive

We always write about the successful hunts and show pictures of the ‘mighty’ hunters with their felled game, but we all know that sometimes, it doesn’t turn out that way. This past weekend’s hunt into the far-away, Texas panhandle proved this point!

My Dad hit the nail on the head, when he told me once after a real slow hunt, “Boy, don’t worry about today’s bad hunt. Just remember, if it was easy each time out, it would be called shooting instead of hunting.” Having repeated this phrase many times to my friends and family, Brad and I encountered it, in spades, this past weekend.

Driving up to Canyon, Texas Friday and then on to Friona for the pheasant hunt on Saturday, opening day, we were both pumped at the thought some great shooting and hunting. Meeting up with the other hunters in our party, 17 in all, with no wind and the thermometer hovering around 25, we headed out to our first CRP field, expecting great things.

These fields were one section each and the prairie grass had these annoying humps in them that made walking almost difficult. With 4 blockers and 13 walkers we covered the first field with no results. After the walk, as we were ‘blowing’, someone said, “I heard because of the drought, there was a bad hatch of chicks this past spring.” This would be the story of this day’s hunt!

Hunting hard until lunch and shedding clothes after each walk, with only one bird to show for our efforts, we retired to the local Mexican restaurant for burros fixed enchilada style and copious amounts of iced tea! We mingled with hunters from other groups all with the same, sad story – not many birds.

By days end, having walked miles, with the temperature hovering in the 60’s, we were down to tee shirts. Last year on opening day, these same fields had provided ‘limit’ shooting by lunch, but our bird total for the day was 6. Managing to drop one, I felt lucky, but one of our hunters picked up the bird and I never bothered to claim it. Brad had taken 3 ultra long shots, our game bags were empty, but it had been a wonderful day!

Up at 3:30 AM, Sunday morning for a 2, hour, drive to near Memphis, Texas and a go at either white tail or mule deer. We were excited, but the ¾ moon was so bright we could have read the newspaper by it. The deer weren’t moving, we saw a lot of sign, but no deer of either variety. Driving back into town, we did see 2 nice mulie, bucks in the back of a pick up.

Brad and I had a great time, the fellowship was great, the food was great, the hunting left something to be desired and this trip just reinforced the statement, “Just remember, if it was easy each time out, it would be called shooting instead of hunting!”

One picture remains of Brinson Bryan, taken around 1846, after the Mexican War.  Thanks to several house fires, no picture remains of Levi Sanders.

Both men fought side by side from December 17 to the 27th, 1864, and it is not known if they ever met, but the rear guard that included these 2 of my Great Grandfather’s, performed its duty flawlessly and saved what was left of the Confederate Army of Tennessee.

The rear guard was in constant contact with Union troops the entire retreat, winning each battle and skirmish.  Federal General Thomas said, “Hood’s Army on the retreat from Tennessee was a bunch of disorganized rabble.  But the rear guard, however, was undaunted and firm, and did its work bravely to the last.”

After the war ended both men were active in the same veteran reunion groups and I’m sure their paths crossed.

My family strives to keep this heritage intact and something to treasure.  These men fought for four years for something they believed in – states rights.  They lost the war, but we’ll always remember their sacrifice!

Hunting

All Smiles

Warren Blesh’s Daughter, Jen, is all smiles showing off this fine buck she shot over the Thanksgiving Holidays on her Dad’s,{ RRR Ranch,} southeast of Goldthwaite. The 130 point, B&C, deer was taken at 100 yards with her Dad’s trusty 25.06.
Don’t you just love our Texas women!

 

Hunting

Clayton’s Bobcat

This past Tuesday, Clayton Gist, a Goldthwaite local and a friend, trapped this 27, pound, male, Bobcat on his family’s ranch south of Goldthwaite. Their place is not too far, cross-country, from mine.

Clayton and his Dad operate{RE/MAX Texas Lone Star Properties} featuring prime, central Texas ranch land.

Hunting

Jalapeno Quail

My years of Quail hunting in Arizona, Georgia and Texas have been wonderful and even better is a dish that I accidentally, through trial and error, invented, “Jalapeno Quail”.

As the name implies, the ingredients are Quail legs, however, Dove, Bull Frog, Teal or Woodcock legs can be substituted. However, I do find large Duck, Goose or Pheasant, legs too tough.

Depending on how many legs, one or two jalapenos, sectioned into 1/8 inch slices, sliced garlic pods or a copious amount of Garlic powder, ½ to one full stick of butter (no margarine!). You can’t use too much garlic or jalapenos!

Clean and wash the legs and prepare your ingredients. Be sure to wash your hands thoroughly after slicing the jalapenos! Melt the butter in a cast iron skillet, and when melted, add all of the ingredients at once and simmer, covering the skillet with a lid, for 10 minutes, then stir and turn the mixture, recover and cook until done.

Feeds as many as you have legs for. Small legs are very good served as an appetizer. Frog legs can be a main course.

Best if served hot, but be sure and eat all of the ingredients, peppers, garlic and all!

Wash your hands thoroughly before the meal to remove any jalapeno residue because it really burns when you get it in your eyes!

Hunting

The Big Time

From 1966 to 1970 Bill Priddy and I were members of an “exclusive” hunting and fishing club south of Danbury, Texas. The club catered to Duck hunters, but allowed fishing and frogging, when it didn’t conflict with the hunting.

My Dad and I show off a Wood Duck we had recently shot over our decoys. Bill Priddy took the picture and we gave him the Duck for mounting.
The club offered a nice air conditioned and heated lodge that slept twelve, a complete kitchen, including a cook and caretaker during Duck season, game cleaning facilities and six, flat bottomed, aluminum boats and, on top of all of that, family members could use the facility for fishing, etc. without the member being present.

Besides the camp house and a hundred acres of thick woods, the club had three, 20 acre, lakes that served as rice field reservoirs. A deep channel was cut all around a square impoundment with the excavated dirt piled up to form a type of dam, or levee. There was about ten feet of shallow water along the dam’s inside, before the excavated channel dropped off to over six foot depth. The channel, the only structure in the lake, was approximately thirty feet wide, sloping up to a large, shallow flat, two feet deep, that covered the center of the lake.
The lakes were over twenty years old and the aquatic vegetation flourished in and around them and provided some excellent hunting and fishing memories for my family and me!
Plenty of snakes but, strangely, no ‘Gators!

Hunting

Big ‘Un

We had been on this lease in McCulloch County, for the past four years and finally, had just the right hunters on it; Bob Baugh, Bill Priddy, Randy Stephens, Hank Schneider and myself. The rancher was glad it was down to the five of us since he liked us and knew that we respected his land, cattle and wild game. Being the ‘jefe’ of our group he passed on to me that he was adding 280 acres, located just outside of Rochelle, to our hunting property. The new place was only a short drive west of his main ranch and brought our total of huntable acres to 2800.
Around noon we drove over to the new place and he told me that he’d seen a couple of really nice bucks hanging around the does. He also told me that this place was overrun with does and he wanted us to eliminate part of the problem, but definitely, try to get a nick buck!
As we drove through the place, glancing out into the middle of a newly planted, winter wheat field, I noticed a buck, not your run of the mill, Texas hill country deer, but a big, heavy racked, guy, just standing there and looking at us. We didn’t stop and kept on driving and the rancher remarked, “That’s a big ‘un, I told you there were nice bucks on this place.” I agreed!

That afternoon, Brad and I were the only ones on the lease, so we decided to check out our new addition. Brad was in a tree line about a hundred yards north of me and I had chosen a natural depression in the wheat field, almost like a fox hole. By 4:30 we hadn’t seen anything. The same for 5:00, but at 5:15, here came the deer – does, bucks, spikes and yearlings, at least 100 of them. At the east end of the field Brad saw big ‘un.

Big ‘un and a smaller 8 pointer, but still a nice buck, were chasing a doe. Brad couldn’t get a clear shot on big ‘un, but when he grunted, the 8 stopped, bam, Brad shot, and he told me, “Dad, he hopped when I hit him, but he ran 15 or 20 yards and jumped the fence over on to the adjoining ranch. It was getting dark and not having ‘hot pursuit’ permission, or even knowing the next door, rancher, we were in a dilemma.

We walked to the fence and a clear blood trail went from the point of impact to the fence and we were stymied. Our solution was to wait for dark, climb the fence and then sneak the deer over the fence and out. We had one problem, less than a half mile away, the ‘over the fence’ rancher was having a party and there must have been 10 or 15 cars parked there. We still had to get the deer.

As the party ‘roared’ on, over the fence we went, got into a low sneaking position, clicked on our lights and soon found the buck, a nice one with an 18 or 19 inch spread. Still in our sneaking crouch, we drug the buck back to the fence, a standard west Texas one with hog wire for the first 48 inches and two strands of barb wire above that, and it was all both of us could do to muscle the 120 pounder, up and over the wire. The ‘party goers’ never noticed us and the party ‘roared’ on.

We took the deer to a processor in Richland Springs and there, Brad decided not to have the head mounted. Bad mistake, because when we went to pick up the buck, the horns, had somehow gotten themselves lost and we were presented with the horns of a scraggly 7 pointer.

We never got big ‘un and I understand, another hunter shot him, but could never find him.

Hunting

The Unicorn

Brad came over Thursday afternoon to try and hunt, and I say try, because a ‘norther’ had blown in around noon packing 25 to 35 MPH winds. It never dawned on us that this particular afternoon we’d see a lot of deer.

Because of the wind, Brad decided to hunt in Colton’s blind and I thought I’d give the haystack another try.
It had been 8 days since I had hunted in the haystack, in the feed lot, right by my house and 4:50 PM found me ‘schrooched’ down looking over the top of the hay. Nothing happened until 5:30 and then, almost as a group, here came the deer, a total of 3 does and 5 yearlings. Within thirty yards of me, I felt like I could reach out and touch them, they began browsing and watering. It was getting dark, when all a sudden, the deer froze and looked, not at me, but into the thick cover.

Way back in the thick stuff I could see movement, two big deer, couldn’t see horns, but they were big. They came steadily on toward the feed lot and water trough, all of the deer around me were still frozen, and I was caught in a very uncomfortable position, but like the deer, held my ground!

With the wind still howling and the mesquite trees blocking a clear view of them, the two deer came on. In the quickly fading light, I cautiously raised my rifle and scoped them and could barely make them out. The does began moving off, warning the yearling with hisses that sounded kinda’ like a buck’s snort/wheeze, without the snort. Still no luck with the scope, it was just too late, but there’ll be another time!

In the dark, driving out to Maw-Maw’s blind, I picked Brad up and he told me that around 5:20, after the feeder had gone off, he saw a total of eight deer, including a spike with just one horn. He said, “Seeing movement near the feeder, I looked around and there was the spike. I noticed he was limping and had only one horn and by the time I got my rifle up to shoot he was back into the thick stuff. Maybe I’ll get him tomorrow?” Laughing, I replied, “Maybe it was a unicorn?”

Hunting

Vacek’s

At 5:00 PM this past Wednesday afternoon, I had defied logic and was sitting behind a tree scouting for deer. What’s illogical about that? The tree that I was hiding behind was in the feed lot, not two hundred feet from the east side of my house and by dark, within fifty yards of my hide, I had seen eleven does and two young bucks! My cover was so sparse that I couldn’t lift up my camera for pictures.In the thick fog Thursday morning, on my ranch,near Goldthwaite, Texas, sitting in a tree stand by a food plot, I had only seen four yearling does. Then it dawned on me, the bucks will be close to where the does are!

So, then and there, I decided that I would convert one of the partial round bales of hay in the feed lot, into a blind of sorts and see if that would provide me sufficient cover to get a shot. Moving the hay around for a makeshift ‘blind’ proved to be easy, but the hard part was angling into the chair so only the top of my camo’d head would show. Thursday afternoon found me ‘scrooched’ into a bale of hay, watching a spike about a hundred yards away down a lane in the trees, stop and rub his head against an overhanging limb, put his back legs together and urinate over his glands on to the obvious scrape. In quick succession, he would be the first of four more bucks, a six pointer and three shooters, to repeat this act. This was a first for me. I’ve seen one buck ‘work’ a scrape, but never two and certainly not five and don’t ask me why I watched and didn’t shoot!

A doe walked across the clearing not forty yards in front of me, followed by the spike. Soon the spike beat a quick retreat and I got ready. Out walked this nice buck, guessing his age on the hoof, probably four and a half with heavy body, wide horns and muscular neck. He looked at the doe as I centered my cross hairs in the heart, lung area, bam, down he went and bounced back up, ran for twenty or so feet and fell dead!

During the fall, through junior high, high school, college and my first 2 jobs, my afternoons, when not otherwise occupied, were spent outside of Fairchild, in Ft. Bend County, Texas, hunting on the Vacek, Stavinoah and Franek farms.  From 1949 until 1969 this was a Dove and Duck hunting paradise for my Dad and I! Today this area encompasses a huge, Reliant Energy, power plant and an upscale subdivision. Progress and municipal sprawl equates to loss of hunting grounds!

Mr. Vacek was an Uncle of one of my Dad’s employees, and us getting to hunt down there started innocently enough with my Dad buying eggs and fresh produce from them. It was also a pleasant, 30 minute, afternoon drive for us, and soon, Mr Vacek, said, “Bryan and Jonny, vy don’t you come shoot ‘dem Dove and Duck covering my place?” That was all the invitation we needed and Mr. Vacek even got us permission to hunt on the other 2 properties.

From mid September until Duck season we concentrated on Doves then switched our pursuits to the Ducks. Mostly they were in a wooded, creek bottom that is now gone, covered by the power plant’s cooling lake.

Mr. Vacek would call my Dad and say, “Bryan, them bottom got ‘dem Ducks” and off we’d go. I remember several occasions when my Dad even got me out of school on “an emergency” to go hunting. He correctly surmised that being out hunting with him, would keep me out of trouble and teach me valuable lessons for the rest of my life. He was correct!

The hunting was excellent, sneaking the Ducks in the bottom or pass shooting Doves in the cut milo and corn fields, but one trip taught me a valuable lesson. Taking another computer salesman with me one afternoon almost cost me “big time”! I had loaned him one of my shotguns and explained its action to him and I was leading us down a small creek on our “sneak” of a bunch of Ducks, when Boom!!!

His shotgun exploded and the shot plowing into the ground right beside my foot and I froze. I turned around and checked the safety, and sure enough, in his excitement, he had clicked it off, accidentally touched the trigger and almost blew my leg off!

This taught me three valuable lessons, never loan out a shotgun, always try to walk abreast with another hunter and don’t take a “cicero” hunting until you’re sure of his capability and judgment! This man and I remained friends and neighbors until his untimely death in 1990 but we never hunted together again, we fished a lot, but no more hunting!

Both my Dad and Mr. Vacek died in 1969 and I moved away and when I returned to Houston in 1979, the power plant had gobbled up our hunting area.

 

Hunting

The Haystack Buck

At 5:00 PM this past Wednesday afternoon, I had defied logic and was sitting behind a tree scouting for deer. What’s illogical about that? The tree that I was hiding behind was in the feed lot, not two hundred feet from the east side of my house and by dark, within fifty yards of my hide, I had seen eleven does and two young bucks! My cover was so sparse that I couldn’t lift up my camera for pictures.In the thick fog Thursday morning, on my ranch,near Goldthwaite, Texas, sitting in a tree stand by a food plot, I had only seen four yearling does. Then it dawned on me, the bucks will be close to where the does are!


So, then and there, I decided that I would convert one of the partial round bales of hay in the feed lot, into a blind of sorts and see if that would provide me sufficient cover to get a shot. Moving the hay around for a makeshift ‘blind’ proved to be easy, but the hard part was angling into the chair so only the top of my camo’d head would show. Thursday afternoon found me ‘scrooched’ into a bale of hay, watching a spike about a hundred yards away down a lane in the trees, stop and rub his head against an overhanging limb, put his back legs together and urinate over his glands on to the obvious scrape. In quick succession, he would be the first of four more bucks, a six pointer and three shooters, to repeat this act. This was a first for me. I’ve seen one buck ‘work’ a scrape, but never two and certainly not five and don’t ask me why I watched and didn’t shoot!

A doe walked across the clearing not forty yards in front of me, followed by the spike. Soon the spike beat a quick retreat and I got ready. Out walked this nice buck, guessing his age on the hoof, probably four and a half with heavy body, wide horns and muscular neck. He looked at the doe as I centered my cross hairs in the heart, lung area, bam, down he went and bounced back up, ran for twenty or so feet and fell dead!

Pictured is my ‘Haystack Buck’.
Whew, that was some deal, but where’s the smoke coming from? The muzzle flash had ignited some of the hay, but it soon smoldered out. Getting out of my ‘blind’, I hadn’t taken two steps, when I saw movement ahead in the brush and three bucks exploded out.

Walking up to the buck, I noticed he was a seven pointer, with his left, main beam broken from fighting. Earlier in the week I’d passed on a big buck with only one antler. These guys around here are getting aggressive!

The big boys are moving and they were certainly were close to where the does were!