Foggy Bottom Boy
Seems like every year for 20 years now, the holiday season means more time for hunting. Whether it’s with family or friends, or a combination of both, days off from work mean more time spent in a hunting blind in South Texas. This year was no different. With 10 days off for the Christmas holiday, I called two of my buddies and we decided to plan for a hunt on a ranch in South Texas.
We’d met at the “Hungry Hunter” in Pearsall mid afternoon, grabbed a quick bite, and headed out to the ranch. We arrived at the ranch, quickly threw our bags in the cabin, and headed out to scout the place. We went from blind to blind, feeder to feeder, and game cam to game cam. All of the spots looked promising with deer activity all over. The rut had definitely begun.
It seemed like the farther we went, the deer sign increased. The last stop was an old blind at the back of the ranch. This spot had boards in the trees from old blinds that had to have been there since the ’50s. Like the old saying goes, “ If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” The ranch owner called this blind “The Bottom Blind” because it was down off a plateau near a dried up creek bottom. I thought to myself, “The Bottom Blind? Back of the ranch? Been there for half a century? I’ll hunt that!” My other two buddies had already picked their blinds way before me, so I had no competition for the Bottom Blind.
We returned to the cabin and downloaded all the pictures from the game cams. I was shocked at what I saw. The blinds they had picked were covered in deer, and the Bottom Blind? Let’s just say it wasn’t looking too promising. We stayed up late, telling hunting stories, laughing about old times and “the ones that got away” around the campfire. A cold front moved in rather suddenly and forced us inside, so we took that as a sign and called it a night.
The next morning came way too early. We rummaged around the cabin, got all of our gear in order and headed out. The night air was like a stout cup of coffee when it hit our lungs. Talk about a reality check. We set out, each our separate ways, and made our way to our blinds. The fog was so thick, it took twice as long to get there than I planned. I climbed into the blind and awaited the sunrise.
Just as the sun rose, I wasn’t feeling very lucky. The fog was so thick I couldn’t see 20 feet in front of me. That feeling of emptiness soon took over. Every leaf that rustled, every stick I heard break, I just knew it was that buck of a lifetime that I couldn’t see. I thought I would have been better off sleeping in than standing around here in the cold, unable to see anything. I decided I would wait 30 more minutes and if the clouds had not lifted, I would pack it up. After about 20 minutes, the fog seemed to start toying with me. Patches of fog would go by and give tiny breaks where I could make out the figures of deer in the distance. Finally, the fog lifted like a curtain at the Oscars, to a stage full of wildlife.
Much to my surprise, there were plenty of deer to be had. You see; the game cam at this stand wasn’t even close to where these deer hang out. In fact it faced the opposite direction. On my right side there were seven does and one small eight-point buck. This buck was having the time of his life rutting those does around. Every time a doe would stop and put her head down, he was in full sprint after her. I could have watched him all day, when suddenly he turned and looked into the woods and then took off. I had no idea what was going on. I thought to myself, “Looks like hogs ruined my hunt again. Oh well, at least I’ll get some pork.”
I raised my scope in anticipation of 20 hogs running out when this mature 10-point walked out. I couldn’t believe my eyes. With so much going wrong and right, it was unbelievable. This big boy came out and made sure his presence was known. Quickly picking up where the little eight-point had left off, he went right to work rutting does through the bottom. I nervously waited for him to stop and give me the opportunity at a good shot. He finally did. I let the shot ring out and when I got back to my scope, he was down. I couldn’t have been happier. The “Foggy Bottom Boy” was mine. This buck scored 164 B&C and was the largest buck ever taken on the ranch since they have kept records.
The ranch we hunted from is a 2,000-acre, low-fenced ranch just outside of Pearsall that a friend of mine owned. This buck will forever be one of the most memorable hunts of my life.
