3 Days on the "Texangeti"

1 hour ago

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Written by Seth Kaffka

There is no such thing as an easy hunt. I have hunted all over the world and in many different ecosystems and, sure there are some that are tougher than others, but I have never completed a big game hunt and thought, “wow, that was a breeze.” And in truth, this is why we love it, no? Everything worthwhile in life, usually takes some level of struggle.

But, relatively speaking, in comparison with some of the 7–10-day backcountry hunts I have done in my career, this was supposed to be… well, easy. We were chasing free-range Axis deer, or Chital as they’re known in their native India, in what I coined the, “Texangeti;” a magical area in the hill country of Texas where you are almost as likely to see a free-range Black buck roaming your ranch (with no explanation as to how they got there) as you are a native whitetail. It’s a weird and wonderful place.

My friend, Mike McKinny of West Texas Hunt Organization assured me that three days would be enough to get it done and he was right, but just barely as this hunt came down to literally the LAST hail Mary spot in the last 20 minutes of daylight on the last day.

No high fences on this ranch, just thousands of acres of lightly rolling hills, mesquite flats and live oak patches they call, “oak motts.”

It was mid-April and Within an hour of sunrise on the first day we were standing inside of 400 yards on a tall, wide, perfectly symmetrical Axis buck, at least 32” long; just the kind of buck we were after. But it was too early. Not only do I have a show to produce, I have actually become more patient after many hours spent afield and I wasn’t keen on ending the hunt so quickly. So, we left the buck and backed out. That evening brough yet another golden opportunity for some great footage and a 200-yard chip shot, but still, something told us to hold off and see what we could dig up as the weekend progressed.

The next morning, just as we were headed back to the basin holding the buck from morning one, despite the sun rising it began to get darker, and with a quickness that caught us off guard the wind blew and the temperature dropped a solid 15 – 20 degrees in ten minutes. The rest of the day was spent stacking the miles, both on foot and in the truck, we put about 9 miles on our boots and who knows how many in the vehicle. We barely saw a single deer. If there is one thing I have learned it’s that all deer, no matter the location or species, do not like to move in heavy wind.

The last day was frantic, the wind had died down a bit and we saw some movement with mediocre bucks but still we couldn’t get anything to come together and again we stacked on the miles. No big breakfast or nap on this day, we needed every minute in the field.

About an hour before dark, we had one last mesquite flat to check, hoping that the bucks from evening one would be back. As we made our way there, it began to rain and our hopes started to dissolve with the moisture. I was already writing, my “well it didn’t happen this time” speech in my head. I threw on my rain gear and we continued on foot. Just as we confirmed the flat was empty, I looked over and saw a rainbow. I am a man of faith and countless times, rainbows have reminded me of God’s promise and I just felt that this was a sign not to give up and not to lose faith even though it looked about as bleak as it could get. On the way back to the truck there was literally 1 final spot we could check before we had to call it quits. With about 20 minutes of light left we peaked around the edge, down a long pipeline clearing. Before I could barely get my glass to my face, my buddy and guide Cullen’s eye lit up as he said with a devilish grin, “Let’s go kill him!”

That was all I needed to hear; we closed the distance, using the tree line as concealment, from about 450 to 200 yards. They continued to feed, unaware. I tried to get prone with my Spartan Precision Bipod but the grass was too tall. I tried getting steady on a tripod but at this distance with my heart racing and the whole team’s hopes on my shoulders, I could not keep that reticle from dancing unacceptably. I have been in this situation enough times and learned the hard way that spraying and praying almost never works out, as they say “hope is not a course of action.” So, I looked for a solution. About 50 yards away I noticed a 15-foot-high pile of rocks for some kind of future road project. I snuck over to it, keeping low and climbed up the back side and got prone on my bipod. After making sure the buck was clear of all the other deer with him, I squeezed off a shot and made an excellent impact.

Finding absolutely no blood trail, my heart dropped into my guts, but when we finally go to the animal it was one of the happiest times in my recent hunting memory. This “easy” hunt had turned into quite a tough one and we were all reminded why we hunt. The insane highs and lows, the bonding and camaraderie and most importantly the constant reminders of God’s goodness is what keeps us coming back for more abuse.