Texans have quality whitetail hunting a short drive from home HOMEGROWN WHITETAILS

By Brandon Ray

It was late in the morning on Nov. 3, 2019. I was about to abandon my ground blind after a slow morning. Looking to the north, I spotted movement. Through the 10X glass, I could see it was a familiar face headed my way.

It was a mature 10-point I’d tracked through in-person encounters and trail camera pictures over the course of several years. His symmetrical rack, bold white circles around his eyes, faint double throat patch, torn left ear and big scar on his back made him as easy to recognize as if he had a name tag. It was “Scarback.”

This was my first encounter with him of the season. In the fall of 2019, I estimated he was 51/2 years old. His rack had changed very little from age 31/2 to 51/2. I made the decision in early October that if I saw him, I would take the shot.

Now broadside at 15 yards, I eased my bow to full power. The arrow was true, blasting through the ribs. The big Texas Panhandle buck galloped by me at top speed. I waited the standard 30 minutes, then took up the trail. About 180 yards from impact, I found that special buck dead in a cedar-choked ravine. His rack gross-scored just shy of 150 P&Y inches.

With the buck loaded, I headed for the old tin barn at ranch headquarters. At the barn, I skinned and quartered the buck. The ranch’s numerous barn cats and chickens watched me work. A few meat scraps went to my audience.

That night, I ate fresh venison tenderloin with a tossed salad and fried potatoes. After supper, I scrolled through old pictures on my computer of the long history I shared with Scarback. After jotting a few additional notes in my journal, I took a hot shower and climbed into bed. It was a special day that I too often take for granted.

Right: Brandon with the buck described in the opening paragraphs and three of the deer’s sheds. Scarback was a familiar face, and at 5½ years old in 2019, he had a fine 150-class rack.

Close to home

Maybe it takes getting older to really appreciate what is right in front of you. Today, I’m not sour about my lack of funds for chasing sheep or giant elk. Success on my home turf is very rewarding. Costs are minimal, I get to build up history with the bucks I pursue and each day I sleep in my own bed. Hunting local bucks means no hotels, no suitcases and the freedom to hunt when I want. Instead of having just a few days for a hunt, like on a scheduled guided trip, when I hunt close to home the only limits to my hunting days are the start and end of the season.

Texas has quality whitetail hunting across the state. The hot spots for quality bucks would include South Texas, North Texas, the Panhandle and well-managed ground in the Hill Country. The state boasts 5.3 million white-tailed deer, according to recent TPWD estimates. Most hunters are only a short drive from productive hunting grounds.

Good deer hunting doesn’t have to mean just big racks. If you have access to a few acres just outside the city limits, that might be enough to take a couple does for the freezer or an average buck. Turkeys might inhabit that same parcel, too. I’ve bagged several big spring gobblers on a 20-acre tract of land on a wooded creek just past the city limit sign.

Hunting homegrown whitetails means the freedom to change clothes at your house after work, make a short drive to the woods, climb into a blind and watch the landscape come to life. The hometown hunter can set his own blinds, check trail cameras, search for sheds and scout for rubs and tracks at his own pace. There’s a high level of satisfaction that comes from doing the work yourself.

My gear list for a backyard hunt is simple. I’ll carry a compound bow drawing about 60 pounds, half a dozen arrows tipped with fixed-blade broadheads, an Ozonics unit to mute my scent, Sig Sauer rangefinding 10X binoculars and a backpack. In the pack I carry a few essentials like a knife, two headlamps, stocking cap, gloves, grunt call, camera, extra release aid, first aid kit, hunting license, water and snacks.

Familiar faces

Late October was my first sit near my country home of the 2022 deer season. Fresh rubs were visible near my hideout. It was a warm 75 degrees by the time I settled into my ground blind. That blind is nothing fancy, but it did take some sweat equity to construct.

The blind sits under the sagging limbs of a twisted cedar tree. More cedar limbs were cut elsewhere and added to the base to better conceal my hideout. A stretch of camo burlap hangs behind my chair to keep me in the shadows. The shooting window is a basketball-sized hole in the front surrounded by brush and grass.

Two does appeared at 6 p.m. They were nervous, only staying within view for a minute or two before wandering under the cottonwoods. Next, seven long-bearded gobblers mobbed the free corn. They were legal to take, but given the low numbers from the drought, I was content to just take inventory.

It was after sunset when a familiar face came from the north. It was a buck I estimated to be 7 1/2 years old. His rack is odd, with blunt forks on both sides and extra points at his heavy bases. Most anywhere he would be a cull buck. I have lots of history with him. My daughter, Emma, named him “Longhorn.” Each year his rack is the same. That history includes six of his sheds I’ve found within a half mile of that spot over the course of five years. Instead of shooting, I just watched him and wondered what his rack might look like at 8 1/2 years old.

My truck’s headlights lit up several barn cats as I pulled into the driveway. I didn’t have a deer to celebrate that night, but the cats were content with store-bought cat food. I knew there was still plenty of time left in the season to find a big buck. Laying in my bed that night, I knew how lucky I was to hunt deer close to home.