Rob's Pope & Young Continues....

I started off this weekend as I have so many times before. Leaving work on Friday, after a full day, run home quickly, load up and head south with my truck stereo. The drive from Austin to Freer Texas has become routine and averages three hours one way. One must stay on the lookout for deer, coyotes and wild hogs rolling down Highway 16 south of San Antonio. As I roll, I notice a few deer and hogs grazing on the side of the road with a full moon lighting the landscape with glaring authority. I reflect “the range is dry and dead, no new growth, deer have to be hitting moving to feed now?” Hogs are grazing on small patches of green grass, sparse as it is; they stand right next to the highway and ignore my truck as I roll by at speed. I certainly hope my feelings are right….only one more weekend left after this hunt and my seasons over. My mind is working in overdrive and expectations are on the upbeat. I call to check in with Bruce and find out I am two hours behind the rest of the crew. I might be two hours behind....but WOO HOO I'm rolling to South Texas!!!!!

I arrive at deer camp expecting to see trucks, lights and my hunting compadres, nobody here; I am the first to arrive. I unpack and get ready for the morning hunt (or so I thought). Bruce, Mitch and Richard roll in around 10:30 pm. They had rendezvoused at the Liberty Café with James, Bill & Rick, from Freer Deer Camp and Taxidermy. The crew absolutely devastated the awesome TexMex food known in these parts. We all comment on the brightness of the moon and contemplate the effect on our upcoming morning hunt before counting sheep.

Saturday morning rolls around quickly and the alarm sounds at 0500. Mitch and I both get up and dress slowly. Richard and Bruce have decided this morning is a “sleep in kind Saturday morning rolls around quickly and the alarm sounds at 0500. Mitch and I both get up and dress slowly. Richard and Bruce have decided this morning is a “sleep in kind of morning” and opt to stay back in camp. The air is cold and a light freeze has coated the ground with frost. Thermometer reads 28 degrees, the moon is full with four more hours before setting, and the local terrain is bathed bright with light. A very light North East wind is blowing. Not the best of winds for my stand but I opt to hunt it anyway. The weekend previous, I stuffed a corn sack full of fresh cow manure in anticipation of North winds this Saturday morning. I lovingly nicknamed the application of cow manure around my stand as “Coonie Cover Scent” used to mask my scent around my blind. Area59 has cattle and my blind is close to a stock tank, so an overabundance of fresh manure shouldn’t alert the game.

Here's my blind. Brushed in heavily and blending in perfectly with the terrain. It's dead center, staring straight at the point from my bowshot.

I choose to walk from camp all the way to my blind. Mitch comments “you’re walking all the way in this morning?” I reply “it will help me stay warm till sun-up and I might as well take advantage of what little heat I can generate.” The last thing I want to do is motor the truck in alerting any of the mature bucks I am here. Nice and natural as I slowly walk the sendero. My worry of rattlesnakes is nil, it’s too cold this morning so the relaxed walk is welcomed.

At 0645 visibility is very obscure, that moment when dark fights a new day rendering all images out front literally ghost like in appearance. As I scan I note a brown silhouette in my right most shooting window. “This looks odd, I’ve got this panoramic scene burned into my memory and this indiscernible brown shape does not fit into my well rehearsed scene?” I memorized my shooting lanes like the back of my hand, each tree, cactus, bush and strange outline cataloged and forced into memory. This morning, something is off and it’s not moving. I strain to see what this object is, raise my binoculars and make the outline of a whitetails rump. I note this deer is staring out to the Northwest staring toward the neighboring ranch. I can hear an ATV moving down a sendero, headed to a green box tower blind approximately a mile away, our bordering ranch and the rifle hunters. This deer holds position for a full three minutes and then walks slowly away toward the stock tank. He is alert, knows that sound is danger and he moves silently hugging low as he steps away. As I glass I note one main beam with three tines up. I know it’s a buck, and a good buck but he’s gone?

To be continued.....