You Never Know What to Expect

By Denny L. Vasquez

 

The sweat rolled off my forehead and dripped onto my hands, as I stood there thinking, “Man, what have I let myself be talked into now? It’s way too hot to be out here hunting! It’s not even 7:00 a.m. yet, but I have already sweated enough that my clothes are so wet that you would think I have been swimming in them. And it’s not finished yet as the afternoon temperatures are supposed to climb close to the 3 digit mark!” I slowly shook my head, silently scolding myself, as I turned to look at the woods that we would soon be hunting in. “Man are they green! Way too green, for us to be thinking about hunting at this time of year. After all, most of my camo has a basic brown or tan background. I wasn’t sure that they would work here with it being so green! When will I learn to just say no?” Slam! My hunting partner, closing the door on his truck interrupted my train of thought and brought my attention back to where, and more importantly, when I was.

Yes, it was true. We were putting on our hunting gear and preparing to enter the woods in pursuit of one of the more vigilant members of the deer family. And no, we weren’t getting ready to poach a few summertime whitetails. I had come to the ranch, in the middle of the stifling Gulf Coast summer heat, to hunt the heavy horned axis deer that the rancher has stocked his property with, also known as the chital or spotted Indian deer. Now don’t get me wrong, I have taken several nice axis bucks before, but never one that was good enough to put on the wall as a trophy. The rancher had bragged about having several bucks in the 35-inch plus range so I had come to make him prove it!

These challenging animals had been transplanted to Texas from the Indian sub-continent back in the 1930’s. Through careful game management and ethical hunting practices they have made themselves a permanent place in the new world. So much so, that according to one animal biologists from Pakistan, it is possible that there are more axis deer in the US today then have ever existed at any one time in their former range. Today they can be found in Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Missouri, Illinois, New York, Oklahoma, New Jersey, Michigan, California, Hawaii and Florida. That is a pretty impressive statement about animal conservation in this country.

Many consider the axis to be the most beautiful of the deer family. Both the male and female have striking reddish-brown or burnt orange coats that are marked by white spots, which are scattered across their sides. They have a black dorsal stripe and white bib on their neck, white inner legs, stomach, and under-tail. Their height at the shoulders ranges from 29 to 39.5 inches and mature weight is from 145 pounds to 250 pounds. The males have antlers, which are shed annually and have darker facial markings then the does. These markings become a more pronounced “scowling” _expression the older they get. Bucks are larger bodied than does with thicker necks and broader chests. And most axis bucks are in hard horn during the summer months, instead of the fall and winter months.

When we were ready, my friend led the way into the thick brush along a creek that runs through this part of the ranch. By the luck of the coin toss, I would get to shoot first. So we were headed to the last spot where he had seen a herd of axis bucks. This was a small clearing, about a quarter of an acre in size that hugged the creek bank beside a watering hole that the axis deer seemed to favor.

This ranch does not have the hills and rocks that the traditional exotic hunting region of the central Texas hill country does. It makes up for this with dense under growths of rose bush thickets and thick, jungle like stands of coastal plains trees. Many times, as we walked the ranch, a “wall” of trees that were packed so tightly together that we could not make our way through them would halt our progress. Our only option was to change directions and seek an easier route.

When we got into a position to watch the small clearing through the trees, all that we spotted were axis and fallow does. We watched the clearing for 20 minutes before my friend indicated that he wanted to move on. We eased away from the clearing, not wanting to disturb the deer there; after all, we might have to come back here later.

Slowly we made our way through the trees, heading toward another area of the ranch that the axis bucks were known to favor. Shortly after leaving the clearing we began to catch glimpses of the other inhabitants of the ranch. There were herds of Corsican rams grazing through the under growth, as well as blackbuck antelopes, feral hogs, fallow, sika and axis deer, red stags, eland and elk, as well as scimitar horn oryx.

Since I had never seen a scimitar horned oryx outside of a wildlife park before we stopped and watched them graze toward the creek bottom that we had just left. As they passed by, my friend asked if I had ever hunted a scimitar horn oryx before? When told no, he indicated that there was a bull on the ranch whose horns were close to 40 inches long and if we saw him before finding the axis bucks, I could take a shot at him if I wanted to. Talk about getting my attention! As I watched the oryx disappear into the brush, I wondered if the big bull was nearby.

An hour later, we eased up to a game trail that wound its way through the under brush. It was obvious that the animals had chosen the path of least resistance because the trail followed the route of an old, mostly dried creek bed. On my right, the trail entered the creek bottom from an open area on the opposite bank. To my left, the trail followed the creek bed as it skirted the wet spots in the mud that lingered from the last meager shower. Finally, the trail followed the course of the channel around a bend in the distance.

As I was studying the trail before us, I heard a snort of alarm from the direction of the open area on the opposite bank. I turned to look in that direction and there stood a lone fallow doe. Since we had been standing still and were not making any noise she couldn’t make out what the intruders into her domain were. I could imagine her thinking, “that leafy tree stump wasn’t there the last time I came through here. Where did it come from?” Suddenly, she turned and disappeared into the cover beside the creek. We heard other animals following her lead as they moved off through the brush.

My friend turned and whispered, “We’ve been busted!”

We decided to head back to the truck to get a drink and regroup. An hour and a half trek found us back at the skinning shed. Along the way were saw several more herds of animals, but none of the bigger axis bucks that we were after. We took a short break before we went back to hunting.

We had been back hunting for about 45 minutes, when we came across a regal red stag bull as he drank from a secluded pool that couldn’t have been more than 20 inches across and 3 inches deep. My friend had led us along a small game trail, towards a part of the ranch that we had not hunted before, when we came upon this heavy crowned bull. He had not rubbed out yet and still had several inches of growth left, but was already a beautiful specimen. Unlike our native elk, mature red stags have a “crown” or a small palm with multiple points at the end of their antlers.

Another hour found us in the part of the ranch that my friend wanted us to hunt so we stopped to catch our breath and plan our recon of the area. The largest clearing on the ranch was less than one hundred yards to the east of us. So we would cautiously approach it because you could never tell what you might find out in the open. The big oryx bull had been spotted in this clearing several times by other hunters and there was a 50/50 chance that we would find him there now.

Easing up as quietly as possible, we noticed some activity on the far side. Using our binoculars, we spotted two young axis bucks that were participating in the annual rites of passage, i.e. a sparring match to determine which would be the dominant buck. The other deer, as well as the mouflon and Corsican sheep that were also in the clearing, gave the two combatants a wide berth, but otherwise went on eating as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. We were so engrossed in the spectacle that we almost missed the small herd of oryx that entered the clearing on the far side, opposite from the fighting bucks.

I have hunted other kinds of oryx, beisa and gemsbock, in my travels and have a pretty good idea of what a trophy scimitar horned bull should look like. That is why the bull that followed the small herd to the edge of the clearing surprised me.

I guessed his horns to be close to 40 inches in length. This was an excellent bull! Any thoughts of hunting axis bucks were shoved out of my mind when I remembered my friend’s offer of being able to take a shot at the bull. He must have been watching me, because when I turned to look at my friend he just smiled and nodded his head. Without speaking a word, we turned to start a circular stalk that would take us around the clearing and put us closer to the bull. Since he had not yet come fully out into the open, I would need to get closer before I could try a shot through the trees.

Only 15 minutes had elapsed, though it seemed like hours, when we finally made it to the point where we thought that we should be able to see the bull. But try as we might, we could not find him. The cows were still in the clearing, lazily grazing alongside the deer and sheep. The two axis bucks had finally quit fighting; having settled the question of dominance, and it had gotten very quiet in the woods surrounding us. Even the birds had quit singing as an errant breeze slowly moved the leaves around. I eased up on a small rise in order to get a better view of the surrounding area.

I was gradually turning, my head searching for any sign of the big bull, when I noticed a lane through the woods to my right. At some earlier time it had been a road or a path through the surrounding woods, but now it was heavily overgrown. “Man, wouldn’t it be nice if that old bull stepped out into this. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about shooting through all of these trees!” I thought.

I had completed my first survey of the woods and was turning back to ask my friend what he thought we should do, when my gaze once again came across this mysterious lane in the woods. And there he stood! The old bull had circled back around and was trying to get behind us.

Slowly, I raised my Encore rifle while hissing at my friend, trying to get his attention. The cross hairs of my scope had just settled on the bull’s neck when I heard my friend urgently whisper, “Take him, now! You probably won’t get another chance.”

As the bull started turning away from us, I sent a bullet down range toward him. Even though it took the 650-pound animal in the left shoulder, all that I saw through my riflescope were four legs and a lot of dust flying through the air.

I hurriedly reloaded because, being an ethical hunter, I wanted to have another round loaded in case my first shot had been less then perfect. As it turned out, the bull had rolled completely over and came up running in an attempt to escape. We carefully approached the spot where the bull had been standing when I shot.

It was easy to locate the area as you could plainly see where he had rolled in the dust and then came up running. The scuffmarks of his hooves were deeply engraved in the soft dirt of the lane. As we stood looking off into the brush, trying to determine what direction the bull might have gone, “385 steps”, my friend said. He had counted them on our way down from the small rise. I turned and smiled, “Not bad for freehand.” Now if we could only find the bull.

My friend led off in the direction that the bull had taken. It was an easy trail to follow as we had plenty of blood, especially where he had bounced off trees in his effort to navigate the thick growth. After going 75 yards we spotted the bull piled up in his tracks. A smile crossed my face when I knew that he wasn’t going any further. My friend slapped me on the back and congratulated me on a successful hunt. After the obligatory pictures, it was time to take the old bull to the skinning shed.