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Slam Dunk in Sisterdale |
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Fortunately,
the wind was blowing in my favor, carrying the scent of
the wasp spray....
The sand-colored scorpion skittered down the plywood wall,
its momentum threatening to send it stinger over teakettle
onto the carpeted floor of the shooting house - the same
floor on which my naked toes were resting. Lifting my feet,
I glanced around for something to smash the unwelcome visitor.
And that's when I saw the second beast, flattened against
the wall a few inches from its comrade.
I'd been stung by a couple of (much smaller) scorpions in
the past. And while I'm aware that it's no worse than being
stung by a bee, I cannot shake a mortal fear of the loathsome
arachnids born of watching too many B-rated matinees. Perhaps
that's why, against my better judgement, I reached for the
can of wasp spray on the shelf beside me.
I gave them both a good soaking, but the strong-smelling
insecticide had no effect whatsoever on the devil's spawn
at my feet. I wound up crushing them with my binoculars,
nervously observing their curved tails stinging the lenses
as I maliciously ground their jointed bodies into the carpet.
It was difficult not to think about what else might crawl
out of the cracks.
Fortunately, the wind was blowing in my favor, carrying
the scent of the wasp spray somewhere behind me - and not
toward the grassy opening through which whitetails and other
animals were moving at regular intervals. Even without the
bug spray, I would've been busted if the wind had shifted.
I was sitting in the shooting house barefooted and bare-chested,
sweat seeping from every pore. It was late May in the scenic
Texas Hill Country, characteristically hot and dry. I'd
been there since before 2 p.m., and the sun wouldn't be
down until 9:00. 1 was draining a bottle of water every
hour.
In seven hours, I saw dozens of whitetails - including some
dandy bucks whose still underdeveloped, velvet antlers were
well past their ears. I saw springbok (native to Africa),
turkeys, a blackbuck antelope doe and yearling, a red deer
doe, a record-class skunk and two herds of axis deer.
I'd been hoping that some of the ranch's much-maligned feral
hogs would wander by, but they never showed. I might have
been tempted by a blackbuck as well, but the only male that
strolled past was immature. So I never fired a shot, although
a superb axis buck stood behind my crosshairs for a painfully
long time. Had I not shot a handsome buck that morning,
I would've taken him.
The morning hunt was altogether different.
I was visiting the Diamond K Ranch near Sisterdale, which
is about 45 miles north of San Antonio, as the guest of
Polaris. I'd accepted the invitation for the exotic hunt
before learning that the "hunting" portion of the two-day
affair would be less than one day. The rest of the time,
the assembled writers and editors would be driving and evaluating
the company's stable of two-, four- and six-wheel-drive
Rangers.
While I might have had my choice from among several species
of exotic animals within the sprawling 5,000-acre, high-fenced
ranch, I really wanted an axis - the spotted deer, originally
from India, with sweeping 3x3 antlers and savory backstraps
beyond compare. The problem is that axis deer aren't often
caught standing still in the open. By the time you see them,
they've already seen you and are high-tailing it in the
opposite direction. Thus, getting a shot at a decent buck
in the time allotted was not going to be easy.
Or at least that's what I thought.
As we stood around the yard that first morning waiting to
be paired with guides, a couple of gobblers roosted nearby
reminded us that it was still springtime (even if turkey
season was long gone). That, of course, prompted the exchange
of turkey hunting stories, which eventually gave way to
the sharing of jokes.
Since we were both interested in an axis deer and/or a blackbuck,
I was paired with Gordy Krahn, the editor of North American
Hunter. Gordy and I were guided by Heath, who sat behind
the wheel of the Ranger and drove us to a picturesque corner
of the ranch that had been designated as ours.
Within an hour, after seeing numerous axis deer and other
animals (all running), Heath stopped the vehicle and cut
the engine. A gorgeous blackbuck was feeding all by his
lonesome in a meadow choked with colorful wildflowers. It
might have been in range of a good flat-shooting rifle,
but, to Gordy's credit, he wanted to stalk it.
After dropping off Gordy a few hundred yards downwind of
the feeding antelope, Heath and I went looking for axis.
Along the route, we caught glimpses of some great blackbuck
and scimitar-horned oryx. And then I finally spotted a small
group of axis deer in the shade of some live oaks flanking
the ranch's private airstrip -- six or seven does and a
huge buck. They all turned and disappeared back into a bowl
before Heath even cut the engine.
We piled out of the Ranger and attempted to cut them off,
but the deer were moving too fast. The last we saw of them,
the buck's towering and 30-inch wide rack was disappearing
over the crest of a distant ridge. "He's gorgeous!" I whispered.
When we got back to the vehicle, Heath drove past a ridge
and dropped me at the crest. He wanted to check on Gordy.
Fifteen minutes later, the two of them returned. Gordy had
jumped some bedded whitetails while trying to sneak within
range of the blackbuck, and the fleeing deer had spooked
the antelope and foiled the hunt.
Reunited, Heath drove us to a point where we might intercept
the huge axis buck that he and I had seen earlier. He knew
that another guide was supposed to take a client in the
vicinity where the group had run, and he was banking on
the fact that they would spook the group back toward us.
We hadn't gone 150 yards on foot before we saw the reddish
and spotted coats of deer on the next ridge. The herd was
walking the crest, weaving in and out of the oaks and junipers.
We backed off and followed our own ridge in the same direction
to a giant meadow.
"This is the most likely place to catch them coming out
of the timber," Heath told me. "You find a place to sit
down here, and I'm going to take Gordy to the other side
... Good luck!"
I found a scrubby little oak on the otherwise bare hillside
and sat cross-legged behind it, resting my rifle over a
low limb. Through my binoculars, I scanned every shady nook
and cranny in the opposite tree line.
Twenty minutes later, an axis doe burst out of the trees
about 250 yards distant. Unbeknownst to me, the line of
trees concealed a creek bottom, which was well below the
lip of the bank. The deer were able to follow the length
of the creek without me seeing them, at least until they
decided to climb the bank and charge out into the meadow.
No sooner had the doe appeared than a large buck clambered
over the bank and began chasing her no more than a foot
or two behind. Other deer followed, but they were more or
less keeping an eye on the chase in progress, which was
bringing the rutting buck and doe closer with every bound.
As the duo quickly closed the distance, all I could do was
watch; I had no shot. The doe was in front, and they were
coming straight to me. The buck's tall antlers swept well
beyond both animals' hips.
Just when I was on the verge of panicking, since I was having
a hard time visualizing how I would be able to move my rifle
to shoot if they kept coming, the doe veered sharply to
the left at 70 yards. At their speed, I would have mere
seconds to shoot before they disappeared into another grove
of trees.
Never taking my eyes off the buck, I leaned back, brought
my rifle straight overhead, and rolled with it to my right.
As I leaned at a 45-degree angle, fighting gravity, I swung
through the moving buck and fired at the point of its shoulder.
To my astonishment and great relief (since I'm not accustomed
to offhanded shooting, especially from a contorted position),
the buck hit the ground hard about 2 feet from the tree
line that would've swallowed him.
The grand slam bullet had taken out both lungs, as well
as the shoulders on either side.
When I walked up to the buck, I sat down on a boulder to
gaze at my first-ever axis deer. Words cannot adequately
describe how regal these animals are. Moments later, Heath
and Gordy topped the hill and, after a prolonged photography
session, we loaded the buck onto the Ranger.
That afternoon, following a fun session of creek riding
and mountain climbing with our Rangers, Gordy wound up shooting
a blackbuck while I sat in the blind. Only one member of
our group failed to take a gorgeous trophy, and that's probably
my fault. He was about to squeeze the trigger on a huge
axis buck, when my shot (several hundred yards away) caused
the animal to turn back into the trees.
That four out of five of us slung lead and collected trophies
in the single day set aside for hunting is testament to
the Diamond K Ranch's wildlife and guides. But then you
might expect no less from an operation owned by the man
in charge of the Lone Star State's wildlife agency. And
the versatile, hard-working and firm-to-drive Rangers, by
the way, added greatly to the experience.
Editor's Note: To book your next exotic game, whitetail
or turkey hunt at the Diamond K Ranch, call (210) 824-4546,
or e-mail them at info@diamondkranch. com. You may choose
between two- or three-day hunts and between lodging in a
log home or a safari-style tent camp. In addition to the
basic charge for accommodations, successful hunters will
pay a trophy fee, which varies among species. To learn more
about the incredible Polaris Ranger, visit the company's
website: www. polarisindustries. com.
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