Stay Connected to the Outdoors
By Rick Perry
From the whitetail and mule deer habitat of the Davis Mountains to the redfish waters of Matagorda Bay, Texas was beautiful long before settlers got here. The question that has long been on my mind is this. What are we doing to keep our state beautiful after we’re gone? What are we doing to make sure that future generations can experience that singular thrill of getting out in the field before the sun comes up and listening to nature ease into the new day? What are we doing to ensure our grandchildren can experience that unmatched sensation of hooking into a keeper spotted trout, watching rams, bulls and bucks clash during the rut or hearing a tom turkey gobble in response to their calls? The way I see it, people who love the outdoors, people who truly love Texas, have a responsibility to leave a legacy.
Leaving that legacy takes a team effort involving the government, private business, community groups and an individual investment. The young people we teach and inspire today will become the hunters and conservationists of tomorrow. That is a legacy worth celebrating. As a private citizen, and as a father, I understand that my role in leaving a lasting legacy includes “training up a child in the way that he, or she, should go.” I’m proud to say that both my children are comfortable in the field and well versed in firearm safety. Although my daughter Sydney’s first whitetail buck hunt happened more than 13 years ago, I can remember it like it was yesterday.
I was down in South Texas at the Covenant Ranch, talking with some policy folks about some upcoming legislative challenges and spending my down time doing a little population survey on the whitetails down there. I sat in a blind one morning as the sun come up and watched a parade of big-bodied bucks and fat does come ambling out of the underbrush. It was probably just as well that I’d forgotten my binoculars that morning because I probably would have scared the deer away by hyperventilating after an up-close look. As I watched that herd of twitching noses and flickering tails, I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. I watched a 10-pointer with forked brow tines and a 20-inch inside spread step into the sendero. He was more interested in pushing a particular doe than putting on a show for me, so he disappeared just as quickly as he’d showed up. I chalked that up as one of those “nice to look at, won’t see again” experiences, and watched deer until I had to head back to the lodge.
After a couple hours of policy talk and a quick lunch, I figured I’d head back out to that blind just to see if muy grande would show again. Somebody saw me slip out because, just as I reached the blind, I heard the distinctive rattle of the foreman’s truck and a familiar voice like a silver bell, yelling “Daddy, daddy!” There was my Sydney, all of 10 years old, ready to do a little hunting with her dad after bumming a ride to the ranch with a family friend. I could not have been happier to have her along as company. She was not only excited to hunt, she was ready. She’d managed to develop into a crack shot with the open-sight AR-15 a friend of mine had lent us months before.
Sydney hugged my neck and made me promise she could join me on the afternoon hunt. How could I refuse? Before you know it, we were in the blind and Sydney was peering out across the sendero, safety-on. When the evening deer parade kicked off, it was an unbelievable treat to whisper advice on aging deer, reiterating points of gun safety and explaining distinctive whitetail behavior. I also loved hearing her loudly whispered, enthusiastic responses. Much to my surprise, my muy grande from that morning ambled out into the sendero again, this time more interested in dinner than love, which saved me having to explain THAT behavior. Anyhow, I was certain that this cagey deer would never come close enough for a shot, so I reminded Sydney that he had to get within 100 yards before we could even think about a shot. Well, wouldn’t you know it, that mature buck practically made a beeline for our blind and turned broadside at 75 yards. Our guide gave the thumbs-up and, seconds later, the crack of the rifle and the impact of the little 55-grain bullet was followed by the thud of a trophy buck hitting the ground. I’ve never taken a gymnastics class, but I could have turned about 10 backflips, I was so proud of my little girl. When I close my eyes, I can still see the smile on her face.
That evening at the lodge, I just sat back, and let her have the floor and just about burst with pride as she told the story of that monster buck. They must have been cutting onions in the kitchen as we sat there, because I puddled up a little, watching this child I’d rocked to sleep and had tea parties with in the living room share in one of my first loves: hunting in Texas. Those experiences are priceless, and they give our life a richness that the sedentary and the technology-obsessed will never know. That’s why we work to preserve the natural bounty of our state, so that people can have those moments of awe, so they can share in the stories around the fire and connect with a human story that has been told and retold since Adam and Eve needed skins to cover themselves.
As our children’s lives become more centered around gadgets and video games, it’s more vital than ever that we all keep working to preserve and protect our state, so that we can preserve the Texas legacy of outdoors living in the years and generations to come.
Editor’s Note: I’ve known Rick Perry for many years—probably close to 30. I’ve been in hunting camps and at outdoor functions with Rick, and met his mom and dad. If there were ever a friend that you could trust with your best dog, or someone to hold your wallet full of money, he’d certainly be one. He was “raised right” in a conservative atmosphere on Paint Creek in Haskel County, where he became an Eagle Scout. He went on to excel at Texas A&M University and spent four years in the Air Force flying C-130 air transports. After reading his book, “On My Honor,” which expounds on the American values of the Boy Scouts, I realized even more why Gov. Perry is revered by a majority of Texans. His social, spiritual, and conservation values are beyond reproach. It’s an honor to all of us at Texas Trophy Hunters to have the governor on the cover of this issue of The Journal, and I’m further honored to have him as a friend.—Horace Gore
