The typical Hill Country deer hunting session on a managed property goes a little like this: Shooter arrives at the property an hour before sunrise, climbs into a designated elevated box blind about 70 yards from my feeder. With a little luck, he or she makes a selection and shoots. If there’s some trackin’ndraggin’ to be done, the property manager is just a phone call away. By 10, rolling with a Yeti full of manicured meat (mebbe byshooter’s own hand, mebbe not).
And it’s a sweet deal if you happen to be the friend or business associate of the property owner. But those of you who have had any experience managing property or hunting leases know there’s a helluva lotta work that goes on behind the scenes.
It’s been slow going this season because of the acorn boom and abundance of water; after the first few shots go off the deer aren’t much motivated to leave the briar patch.
And of the few times the property manager has been able to do a little hunting himself, he’s taken two does; he gave their meat to the owner for friends and family members who wanted venison but weren’t that interested in actually...well, you know. So it’s late into the season and his freezer is still empty.
Rolled down a few nights ago ago and collected this 150 pounder - pretty straightforward: Spotted, plugged with the .270 130gr and dropped. (The shot was a little low for the boiler room, but shutting down the ventilation system also seems effective).
We’ve all butchered out beasts in dismal conditions - numb hands, dripping sweat, mud, mosquitoes, rain, fire ants, rocks, bad lighting, leaking gut, dull blades (I’m sure you can add a few). But my full carving gear from the truck and that cool breezy night made for pretty much perfect cutting, so I popped straps and hams into ziplocks, drove down to the cabin and tossed them in the freezer for him.
This pretty boy was well built, but had shag carpet not seen since the Brady Bunch, and I’m a better hunter than a shooter and a better shooter than a butcher.
I told him to consider the inevitable hairs as certificates of authenticity authenticity of organic, gluten-free, non-GMO, very free range pork.
A good night out in the wild.
And it’s a sweet deal if you happen to be the friend or business associate of the property owner. But those of you who have had any experience managing property or hunting leases know there’s a helluva lotta work that goes on behind the scenes.
It’s been slow going this season because of the acorn boom and abundance of water; after the first few shots go off the deer aren’t much motivated to leave the briar patch.
And of the few times the property manager has been able to do a little hunting himself, he’s taken two does; he gave their meat to the owner for friends and family members who wanted venison but weren’t that interested in actually...well, you know. So it’s late into the season and his freezer is still empty.
Rolled down a few nights ago ago and collected this 150 pounder - pretty straightforward: Spotted, plugged with the .270 130gr and dropped. (The shot was a little low for the boiler room, but shutting down the ventilation system also seems effective).
We’ve all butchered out beasts in dismal conditions - numb hands, dripping sweat, mud, mosquitoes, rain, fire ants, rocks, bad lighting, leaking gut, dull blades (I’m sure you can add a few). But my full carving gear from the truck and that cool breezy night made for pretty much perfect cutting, so I popped straps and hams into ziplocks, drove down to the cabin and tossed them in the freezer for him.
This pretty boy was well built, but had shag carpet not seen since the Brady Bunch, and I’m a better hunter than a shooter and a better shooter than a butcher.
I told him to consider the inevitable hairs as certificates of authenticity authenticity of organic, gluten-free, non-GMO, very free range pork.
A good night out in the wild.
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