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"Early
October Whitetails...
a Challenge on the RRR" |
By Russell A. Graves
Executive Editor
Email Russell here. |
“Who told me high-fenced hunts were easy?” I wondered to myself
as I sat in a ground blind, weary from the early October heat.
For two days, I have sat high atop a plateau at the edge of a
broad meadow whose brush was grubbed into piles that lined the
periphery. Watching a game trail for the slightest sign of
movement and hoping to catch the slightest breeze through my
carbon-lined blind, I wait patiently. As I wait, random thoughts
bounce through my brain. I think of my wife and daughter and
wonder how they are doing; of my job as an Agriscience teacher in
Childress and of my impending trip to Louisville, Kentucky; and
how the scores of deer behind 300 acres of high fencing can be so
damned wild.
The trip started on Friday, October 3rd when my brother
and I left our parent’s home in Northeast Texas at 4:00am. Prying
myself out of bed, I think about how much more fun hunting would
be if it started later in the day. I’m only 33, but early in the
morning, I feel more like 83. I only got about four hours of
sleep since arriving from Childress the night before at 11:00pm.
I can’t complain too much though since my brother William made an
800-mile drive from Fort Campbell, Kentucky the day before. A
twenty-year member of the United States Army, William is a
fighting soldier who is part of the 101st Airborne
Division who has seen combat action in the first Gulf War and,
more recently, in the rugged mountain and desert terrain of
Afghanistan.
 For the past twenty years, we have stayed close to one another
although Uncle Sam puts hundreds of miles between us. The impetus
for the close relationship, even before he went into the Army, is
hunting. Therefore, when I got an invitation from Warren and Dori
Blesh to bowhunt the
RRR (Triple R) Ranch near Goldthwaite, I
arranged for my brother to join me on the hunt in the heart of
Texas at the northern edge of the Edwards Plateau.
The ranch, located about 12 miles southeast of the quite burgh of
Goldthwaite in Mills County, is pleasantly rugged. Deep
draws and rocky creeks cut through the upland plains with
regularity. Along the draws, ancient pecan trees rise high
above the deep-soiled bottomlands providing ample mast for the
trophy class white-tailed deer that frequent this tightly managed
ranch. Texas red oaks and live oaks also contribute to the
annual mix of food available for the deer. Throughout the
ranch, native grasses and forbs, as well as food plots and
interspersed feeders provide a well-balanced mix to round out the
nutritional needs of the deer.
Jutting up more than three hundred feet above the surrounding
plain is the most prominent feature of the ranch – a broad,
boomerang shaped plateau. With a road that goes all the way to
the top of the mesa, the landscape changes from motte dotted
prairies to a more rugged karst landscape laced with juniper and
sand shin-oak - the short, brushy cousin to the large majestic
white, red, and post oaks found across Texas. Interspersed
throughout the rocks is the ultra-soft lamb’s ear plant.
“Interesting…” I think to myself. "Such a delicate plant in an
inhospitable environment..."
When my brother and I first arrived at the
Triple R, Warren Blesh gave us the tour. He explained that the ranch gets its
name from his late grandfather. Warren, William, and I bounce
around the ranch in an old red jeep as we watch deer and
blackbuck antelopes scatter through the brush. Affable beyond
compare, Warren impresses me when he tells us that he gave up a
job in the corporate world to move to Goldthwaite, open a feed
store, and run a hardscrabble ranch with a beautiful view of
Mills County.
After the ranch tour, Warren shows us to our lodging: a small
help-yourself bed and breakfast called the Lazy W Ranch.
Located about two miles from the Triple R’s front gate, the Lazy
W is a quaint, two bedroom farmhouse that the Blesh’s rent out
to visitors. The house is painted white with a red metal roof
and is accented by matching outbuildings and a back patio with
an incredible western exposure.
Inside the house, we find a completely remodeled interior with a
fully functional kitchen, air conditioning, a dining area and a
den complete with an easy chair, large, comfortable couch, a
television, and a VCR with a collection of contemporary movies
and some hunting videos.
After settling in for an hour, William and I compare notes and
decide where will hunt. He makes the choice to hunt on the
lowland prairies - in a hang on stand along a creek - while I
trek to the top of the mesa and erect a pop-up blind.
 Sitting in a blind, inescapably, my mind always wanders.
Sometimes I think I have an adult version of attention deficit
disorder. This time, however, my mind doesn’t long to ponder.
Just a few minutes after settling in, half a dozen deer spill
from a game trail and head my way. I stare at them through my
binoculars and see a buck with three does and two yearlings.
For once, the buck doesn’t necessarily pique my attention. This
is a management doe hunt and I am trying to visually
discriminate between the females so I can decide which one I
want to take if they come within bow range.
“Bow range?” My mind wanders again… I think how close the deer
should be before I attempt a shot. I make visual landmarks up
to about twenty yards out and mentally chalk them up as my
comfort zone. Shooting a recurve, custom made of mesquite and
bois d’arc, I don’t want to try to get greedy on the first day.
I decide that my first shot will be a safe, conservative one.
The deer pick their way through the pasture nibbling on plants
and occasionally nosing the wind to see if any imminent danger
exists. About 70 yards out, the deer spot my blind and take a
moment to stare but they don’t necessarily spook. Instead, they
bob their heads and stomp their feet as they try to figure me
out. Soon, they become satisfied that I pose no immediate
danger to them and wander back into the brush. Positioned 15
yards from a game trail, I thought they would drift right by my
blind but no such luck.
About an hour passed and deer were nowhere around. At this
point, I decide to shift my role from that of passive hunter to
a more active one. “If the deer won’t come to me, I will go to
them…” I think to myself while gathering up all of my stuff
from the floor of the sweltering blind.
Spot and stalk… The words are easy to say but nearly impossible
to pull off – especially with a primitive stick bow and wooden
arrows like those that I carry. Easing the rest of the way from
the blind, I wonder about William and how he is doing in his
endeavor to take a deer.
A few hundred feet below me, William is watching a food plot as
several Pope and Young class deer stage in the brush as the edge
of a food plot and the smaller, less mature bucks, commit to the
lush greenery and begin to spill over the fence to feed.
William watches the bucks with an anticipation that is common to
bowhunters everywhere. A tightness in his gut gives him ample
proof that it is the hunt and not the kill that still excites
him. William is a veteran bowhunter. From his time as a
teenager in the early 1980’s, he has chosen to pursue the
nation’s whitetails with primitive weaponry. This hunt finds
him with his favorite weapon – the cousin to the bow I am
carrying. Made by Texas Longbows of Centerville, Texas, the
beauty is made of laminated staves of bois d’arc and mesquite
and faced with a rattlesnake skin. Although I shoot cedar
arrows tipped with Magnus two-blade broadheads, William has
chosen to shoot carbon arrows with enormous 200-grain Ace
broadheads. The carbon arrows allow him to shoot a heavier
broadhead and his arrow/tip combination provides ample punch as
it weighs in at a hefty 800 grains.
 I chide William in his choice of high-tech carbon with such a
primitive bow but we both know I am treading on thin ice talking
about his knowledge of shooting primal archery equipment. In his
years of hunting, William has arrowed a number of Pope and young
Class whitetails as well as trophy class black bear and
caribou. As hard as I try to shake him with my good-natured
criticism, he doesn’t flinch. He knows, but more importantly, I
know who the most experienced stick archer on this trip is.
Once out of my blind, I glass the field for movement but see
nothing. I work my way to a spot where two game trails converge
from the brush and wait in ambush for maybe half an hour before
I decide nothing is coming my way. Heading back to fold up my
blind, I spot two does feeding 200 yards across the field just
alongside the road. The spot is made, time for the stalk.
 This time, all the elements are in my favor: the deer are to the
south, the wind is in my face, and ample brush provides just the
cover I’ll need to close the distance and get a shot. Fearing
that daylight is fading too fast, I hustle around the edge of
the field undetected and get within 50 yards of the pair before
slowing down to make my final approach. Cautiously, I make my
way parallel to the deer and deliberately stalk the final few
yards to a small clearing in the brush where I will have a
perfect 10-yard broadside shot. With less than two yards to go,
a dove, which found refuge in a low mesquite tree and was
preparing for a night’s slumber, spooks when I walk by. Too bad
doves can’t spook quietly… Instead, their fluttering call as
they flee alerts every critter nearby (including nonchalant
does) that something is amiss. When the dove spooks, one of the
does looks straight at me, flicks her tail, and snorts as she
leads the other doe deep into the shinnery. “Spot and stalk,”
my cranium aches, “easy to say, hard to do.”
Down the hill, William has the same luck I have. He sees plenty
of deer but not close enough to shoot. Not yet feeling beat, we
retire to the Lazy W where we shower, cook a hearty supper
consisting of German Sausage, cheddar cheese, mustard, and
tortillas. I call my international concoction a sausage wrap
and to my hungry stomach, it is the best thing I’ve ate all day.
William and I strategize into the night and before I know it, my
eyelids are drooping as I struggle to stay conscious long enough
to see Daniel Ocean and his band of grifters fulfill their
conspiracy to rob a Las Vegas casino on the ultra-hip flick
Ocean’s Eleven.
 On the second day, we both decide to alter our strategy from the
day before. William moves further down the creek and hunted in
a big pecan orchard while I create a ground blind from cedar
trees twenty yards from a spinning corn feeder. Two hours after
sunrise the result is the same as it was the day before: plenty
of deer moving around yet none close enough to shoot. At one
point, I see what I think is a world-record-class whitetail
moving through the brush because I all I see are immense
antlers. I soon realize that it is a huge fallow deer.
I watch the deer for a while and then radio William to see if he
has any luck. He reports that he had a doe come under his stand
but she did so at such an angle that he couldn’t turn and
shoot. I tell him that I am coming his way and to be ready…
One-man drives can be productive – especially when the
topography allows it. Where William is hunting, steep creek
walls on both sides allow for a good drive. The creek proper is
only a few yards wide but the channel the creek has cut over
time is considerably wider and I hope to take advantage of the
abrupt creek banks to push a deer his way.
Conspicuously, I start walking towards William making sure to
zigzag through the brush. I radio him a time or two to let him
know my position and keep walking. As I close in on his
position, I jump a deer and it runs towards him. I see it stop
and scan the underbrush only about fifty yards away. I know the
deer is close to William but I can’t tell how close.
 Eventually
the deer merges into the brush and out of site. Catching
movement, high in a tree, I look up to see William climbing down
from his stand. Amazed, I notice his tree is right where that
deer stood for so long. I quizzed him about the deer and learn
that it was a two-and-a-half year old eight point buck – a
non-shooter on this doe-only hunt.
On the evening hunt, we are beat once again. William and I both
are amazed how wary these high fenced deer are. The only state
I have ever hunted deer is in Texas, but William, whose
experience chasing deer is continental, says that people in
other states have a generally negative view of high fenced Texas
ranches going so far as to call them canned hunts. Since this
is the first trip on a high fenced ranch for both of us, we
agree that the canned hunt handle is a mockery. High fence or
not, we have a tough hunt on our hand.
On the final day of
the hunt, William and I try a more aggressive
approach to chasing the deer as we both opt to
spot and stalk. Time is limited so neither
of us hunts long. I have a drive to
Childress to make and he leaves for Kentucky the
next day so we both have to get on the road.
The deer hunting on
the last day is the same as it has been on the
first two: we see many deer but their
wariness exceeded our initial expectations and
we go away empty handed. Warren was right
when he told us how wild his deer are. Now
William and I are believers.
We also reaffirm our
belief of how secretive and aloof whitetails can be.
Neither of us knew what to expect in our first high fenced hunt
but we both agree that it is no slam-dunk. A deer hunt is
a deer hunt and this one has been no different that the hunts we
have had in the past.
Getting into the truck and turning out of the
Triple
R’s gate one last time, I notice how beautiful the countryside
is during this time of the year. The maximillian sunflowers
stand in yellowy contrast to the surrounding horizontal
dead-grass tan. Purple thistles and other fall blooming flowers
round out the Technicolor palette. It is beautiful country
indeed.
 Outside I can hear the gravel crunch beneath the
tires of my brother’s Toyota truck and I fight the urge to close
my eyes and drift off to sleep. It has been a long trip and I
still have a few hundred miles to get back home tonight. My
real job requires me to be back in the classroom Monday morning
and I can’t waste a moment of time if I want to see my family
tonight.
As we silently ride, I think about our hunt and, like the scores
of times before, going home empty handed isn’t a big deal.
After all, we went hunting and not shooting. I measure my
success in terms of the people I meet on the trip and the time I
spend with my brother. If I think about hunting in that way, I
fill my tag every time I go afield.
 RRR
Trophy Ranch-
Warren Blesh offers some really
affordable hunting packages on a beautiful ranch near
Goldthwaite, Texas. You may hunt a 130-140 class buck for
$2000 or put a group of 2-3 buddies together for a freezer
filling hunt which would include a buck, doe and lodging for
$750-1000. This is also a great husband/wife or parent/youth
hunting opportunity on one of the nicest ranches we visited
this year. Contact them today at 325-648-2235 or visit their
web site
here.
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