WATER BUFFALOS IN TEXAS?
11:57 AMMy Beloved's Bucket List Item #1 was a boar hunt. His hope was to, if possible, take a big boar and have a really cool, snarling boa...
11:57 AM
My Beloved's Bucket List Item #1 was a boar hunt.
His hope was to, if possible, take a big boar and have a really cool, snarling boar's head mounted for the motorcycle shop.
It seems there are few public lands in Texas for hunting: it is the norm that folks with land allow other people to hunt on their land - for a hefty fee. It is a system that seems to manage itself well.
The ranch My Beloved signed up with for a night hunt is a well know, heavily advertised outfit. They have got it down: the hunter pays the hefty fee and brings his own weapon, orange hat and vest, water and cracked corn for bait. (purchasing these, along with the hunting license was our first 'have to' on our trip and warranted a stop at one of the myriad of Texas Walmart's and a frantic search for a feed store)
Upon arrival at the ranch, he was quickly introduced to the other hunters there, but once it was announced he was from California, My Beloved quickly found he was ostracized.
Seems the 'good ol' boys' don't care for Californians.
Things moved quickly though: the hunters were teamed up and sent off to go find their hunting blinds. Except for My Beloved: he was to hunt solo.
He had no idea that he was expected to drive out over rough land to get to the blind. My Beloved described the others setting forth in their 4 wheel drives and ATV's..... and he set out in our rented Ford Flex.
And then it got dark.
My Beloved described the night: the light chill and mist, the sheer darkness... and then, the sounds.
He could hear a rustle and then rattling. Turning on the flashlight, he found a herd of elk clustered around his tree. And, as it was rutting season, he watched the males clash their antlers and fight. An amazing sight, to be sure.
That's when the water buffalo showed up.
Honey, I told him, there are no water buffalo in Texas. He assured me that this was indeed a water buffalo: big as 2 couches, large and seemingly benign. And it liked the cracked corn too. The beast ate heartily and laid down and took a nap.
He could hear it snore.
Wondering what he was doing, perched up in a tree with elk and a water buffalo underfoot, he turned off the flashlight and waited again.
Until the pigs arrived.
There was much grunting, and gnashing of jaws: he could hear the them chewing. He used the flashlight again to watch, and saw he had a herd of small hogs underneath his tree. They might have been 140 pounds he thought; not the 'big boar' size he'd hoped for, so he as content to watch while he could hear the guns going off from the blinds near him.
My Beloved reported it was a bit rattling, to be sitting on what suddenly felt like a flimsy platform in the dark, to watch these wild pigs fight and rip at each other, and have guns firing repeatedly and furiously around him.
And it was cold.
And wet.
Groups of pigs came and went, all while, the water buffalo snored.
The hunters had been told to stop firing at 9:45pm and come in. My Beloved gave up the ghost at 9:30.
In his haste to employ his great idea of getting into the car and running the heater, he hurriedly placed his gun in the gun case and securely locked the padlocks ..... along with the keys to the gun case, safely inside.
My poor Beloved.
He had to gather up his wounded pride and ask the ranch folks if they had a bolt cutters, which they did.
Thereby ended the hunting trip. And the snarling boar's head donated to the shop by a dear friend will be just fine, thank you very much.
His hope was to, if possible, take a big boar and have a really cool, snarling boar's head mounted for the motorcycle shop.
It seems there are few public lands in Texas for hunting: it is the norm that folks with land allow other people to hunt on their land - for a hefty fee. It is a system that seems to manage itself well.
The ranch My Beloved signed up with for a night hunt is a well know, heavily advertised outfit. They have got it down: the hunter pays the hefty fee and brings his own weapon, orange hat and vest, water and cracked corn for bait. (purchasing these, along with the hunting license was our first 'have to' on our trip and warranted a stop at one of the myriad of Texas Walmart's and a frantic search for a feed store)
Upon arrival at the ranch, he was quickly introduced to the other hunters there, but once it was announced he was from California, My Beloved quickly found he was ostracized.
Seems the 'good ol' boys' don't care for Californians.
Things moved quickly though: the hunters were teamed up and sent off to go find their hunting blinds. Except for My Beloved: he was to hunt solo.
He had no idea that he was expected to drive out over rough land to get to the blind. My Beloved described the others setting forth in their 4 wheel drives and ATV's..... and he set out in our rented Ford Flex.
The hunting blinds were simple platforms set up in trees, with a backless swivel stool set on it. Once folks were up in their respective trees, ranch employees zoomed out, spreading the cracked corn and bait feed.And then it got dark.
My Beloved described the night: the light chill and mist, the sheer darkness... and then, the sounds.
He could hear a rustle and then rattling. Turning on the flashlight, he found a herd of elk clustered around his tree. And, as it was rutting season, he watched the males clash their antlers and fight. An amazing sight, to be sure.
That's when the water buffalo showed up.
Honey, I told him, there are no water buffalo in Texas. He assured me that this was indeed a water buffalo: big as 2 couches, large and seemingly benign. And it liked the cracked corn too. The beast ate heartily and laid down and took a nap.
He could hear it snore.
Wondering what he was doing, perched up in a tree with elk and a water buffalo underfoot, he turned off the flashlight and waited again.
Until the pigs arrived.
There was much grunting, and gnashing of jaws: he could hear the them chewing. He used the flashlight again to watch, and saw he had a herd of small hogs underneath his tree. They might have been 140 pounds he thought; not the 'big boar' size he'd hoped for, so he as content to watch while he could hear the guns going off from the blinds near him.
My Beloved reported it was a bit rattling, to be sitting on what suddenly felt like a flimsy platform in the dark, to watch these wild pigs fight and rip at each other, and have guns firing repeatedly and furiously around him.
And it was cold.
And wet.
Groups of pigs came and went, all while, the water buffalo snored.
The hunters had been told to stop firing at 9:45pm and come in. My Beloved gave up the ghost at 9:30.
In his haste to employ his great idea of getting into the car and running the heater, he hurriedly placed his gun in the gun case and securely locked the padlocks ..... along with the keys to the gun case, safely inside.
My poor Beloved.
He had to gather up his wounded pride and ask the ranch folks if they had a bolt cutters, which they did.
Thereby ended the hunting trip. And the snarling boar's head donated to the shop by a dear friend will be just fine, thank you very much.
