Adrenaline Junkie

“Three hundred and eighteen miles to go,” I say to myself under my breath as I shift my truck into drive.

Everything I work so hard for comes down to these three short months. It’s the happiest time of year for me for I get to be in my favorite place in the world doing what I love the most. I’m in search of the Muy Grande and he has alluded me for twenty years now and this year I’ve got his number.

My .308 is dialed in and can hit a fly at six hundred yards. Countless hours of trial and error on my reloading bench got me to this point and now I’m ready. The back seat of my truck is packed down with camo everything, from guns to cloths; I’m ready for the hunt.

The weathers changing now and it isn’t the hot south Texas heat I’m so used to, this time it will be different. I’m loaded with facemasks and full body suits to keep me out of the cold winds. Every day I complain about the cold but in order to find the big one I have to be in the woods.

Flying through the small towns between this long stretch Hector calls me to see where I am.

“HECTOR” I yelled into the phone

“Johnny the bucks are everywhere and the milo’s on the ground, where are you?”

“I’ve got another two hundred miles to go I wont make it for dinner tell Martha that I’ll make a plate for myself for dinner tonight.”

“Ok well I’ll be ready before the sun comes up tomorrow and we’ll be on the hunt bright and early.”

“Ok ill see you in the morning”

I hung up and turned the music full blast to try and numb the boredom.

As I pull into the gate all I had worked so hard for disappears and now its time to do what I do best. Its pitch black outside and little glows of eyes surround the headlights as deer mingle on the main road; deer season is in the air.

I walked into the main house and the air is thick with cigar smoke as my grandfather and his buddies are playing backgammon and watching the football game.

“How was the drive down?” My grandfather says as he disregards the question he just asked me and begins a new topic on how great his new field champion dogs are.

I just laugh and roll my eyes when he isn’t watching because they really aren’t that good. And as I try to keep moving through the house I’m bombarded with the shrieks coming from my step grandmother

“JOHNNNN, JOHNNNNYYYY I don’t know what to call you these days!” she says as I think to myself I’ve told you a million times I could care less what you call me as long as you stop being so loud and hyper.

“How’s school, have you met any girls, do you think high school prepared you enough?” the questions go on as my grandfather yells at her to shut up because they cant hear the game.

“Thank God I got out of there!” I say to myself as I scramble to the back room to organize my gear and put my rifle on the rack.

As I lay in bed that night I put together a strategy for the hunt.

“Maybe ill just ride around with Hector and get lucky or maybe ill still hunt and walk for hours, who knows ill ask Hector in the morning and see where he thinks the big bucks are.”

Those nights are the worst, its deer season and your whole year has been revolving around this time. It’s impossible to sleep.

My alarm goes off with my eyes wide open and the three rosters outside start yelling like there’s no tomorrow. Although its 5:30 in the morning I feel like I’ve been sleeping for days.

The rumble of the truck becomes very apparent as I slide on my cold blue jeans and strap on my knife. Hectors here and he’s ready to hunt.

“HECTOR!” I yell again as we greet each other in the cold foggy morning

“You ready for another try?” he says with his goofy personality.

“Lets see if we can get lucky.” I say with an enthusiastic smile.

We drove off into the early morning as deer jet across the roads making their way to get a morning snack.

“You been seeing and big bucks lately?”

“Yeah the cowboys say there’s a big one chasing doe’s on the back part of the ranch.”

“Lets head over there and check out the protein feeders we set out then.”

As the daylight made its way through the top of the Mesquite trees the place became abundant with life. The dove swooped into the water holes for a quick drink as a pack of Javalina moved across the road ahead. This is home.

“Lets see if we can rattle one up.” Hector whispers to me.

We hopped out of the truck and entered the thick brush. Slowly Hector and I crept through the thicket to a good spot and stopped for ten minutes to call a buck up. No luck.

For the remainder of the morning we walked spot to spot in hopes that we could lure him in but all we called in were the small ones.

“Maybe they aren’t chasing doe’s yet.” I said as we walked back to the truck.

Agreeing with me Hector and I drove back to the main house to fill our stomachs with Martha’s pancakes.

I entered the house again to my grandfather and his five dogs surrounding him as he chewed on his cigar and lathered his butter and syrup covered heart attack starter of a pancake.

Martha was cooking away as I snuck up from behind and gave her a big hug.

“Johnny! How are you? Did you shoot anything?”

“No he got away again….”

“O well” she says “I need some venison soon if you could shoot me a doe later?”

I nod and fill my face with pancake and bacon hotdogs.

“A new strategy will be necessary tonight.” I said as Hector and I hoped back into the truck for the evening hunt.

“I think we should hunt the oat fields this time, the oats are high and does are filtering into the fields at night.” Hector said with no hesitation.

Although the sun was high in the sky the cold front kept it perfect to catch the big buck off guard. As we parked the truck back in the thicket we got out to start our evening walk through the brush. We would be hunting in and out of oat fields covering a big track of land called the “Upper Brushy.” This area has some of the biggest bucks on the ranch and the biggest buck ever taken was killed here back in ’89.

Everything was perfect; if we could only run into the gray ghost I’d be ready. Clawing our way through the thorns we reached our first oat field.

The deer were abundant and Hector and I glassed for an hour sizing up the smaller bucks in the field.

“There’s a nice eight pointer chasing a doe over there” he said. “He’s a nice one Johnny.”

“Too young but we’ll have to keep an I on him in the next couple years.”

We kept walking down empty senderos and brush mots until we got to a dry riverbed that harbor’s a lot of big deer.

“Johnny there are a lot of trails through here lets sit here for a while and see what comes out.”

I found a pile of dead tree limbs and we sat behind them as deer already began feeding on the grass two hundred yards down the bed.

Not ten minutes had gone by as we BS’ed with each other when “Shhhhh” ran through my ears. Hector was looking at me with eyes the size of golf balls.

“Big buck” he says pointing in the general direction.

Without even looking my heart dropped to my ankles and I started to tremble as the adrenaline came over me like a disease. I turned ever so slightly and all I could see was a mass of antlers making their way out of the brush on the trail of a doe that just past through.

“This is what you read in magazines!” I told myself.

The buck was a monster among boys and even the deer around him knew not to get to close. It’s the moment I had prepared for for so long yet I can’t get a grip and my nerves take over.

He took a step out of the brush and scanned the area for potential predators and females.

I fought myself to keep still for I was not going to let myself mess this up. Strutting out, all eyes were on him as I settled my crosshairs on his shoulder. A doe passed by and he followed, not letting me get a shot off, and the next five minutes took a lifetime as he darted back and forth. I was ready though, my scope was dialed in and he was at a chip shot away. If only I could calm my nerves. I took three deep breaths and began to squeeze the trigger on my rifle.

“I’ll whistle and when he stops SHOOT!” Hector whispered enthusiastically.

I was so nervous you would think I was dieing of hyperthermia and when he stopped I gathered myself and let it rip. My .308 set off like a bomb and a 168 grain bullet torn through the upper shoulder of the “Muy Grande.”

Screams filled the air as we saw him fall to the ground not one hundred yards away.

“We got him Hector we got him.”

And as I wrapped my shaking hands around his horns I felt alive.

Everything becomes a blur as the hard work pays off with a little bit of luck and as the adrenaline still lingers we sit there speechless for words cannot describe.