Issue link: http://www.e-digitaleditions.com/i/801177
S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S • 133 We made our way back across the ford and were debating which stand to relocate to when the hunt came to an abrupt end. W e were side by side heading down the main trail, discussing our plans for the rest of the day in muffled whispers, when Craig looked past me and saw a hole in the trees 25 feet wide and 100 yards or so off the beaten path. In it stood a reddish- orange beast with white spots, tines stretching skyward like scythes stuck in the dirt after harvest, and a face that defies any attempt at description. Craig, who has seen countless numbers of these bucks shot over the years, could only say one thing . . . over, and over, and over again. "Shoot that deer!!!" Thankfully, I was oblivious to what constitutes a trophy axis deer and didn't recognize the buck for the monster it was. A Euro mount of a smaller axis overlooks my desk at Sporting Classics, but I had never hunted, much less killed, one of these animals. I could tell the hulk before me was bigger than the mounted deer back home, but beyond that, it might as well be a spike for all I knew. Ignorance is more than bliss, though; it's incredibly steadying. I had no whiff of buck fever and settled in for the shot with only precision in mind. I threw up the rifle and cranked the scope to 9x to literally pick a spot on the bright hide to shoot for. As I did so I noticed stand's carpet as I pictured a rutting monster crashing out of the timber to feed at this hidden oasis, dropping like a 200-pound bag of flour as bullet met spine. We gave the stand an hour to produce before calling it a morning. Axis deer might carry their antlers and chase their women at all times of the year, but Texas in summer is still Texas in summer. It was hot, and Craig, myself, and the deer were all feeling it. He and I made our way back to the lodge for breakfast, passing other likely box stands along the way. Craig's wheels were turning as to which of these hideouts would produce the best results when the sun peaked later . . . but first, to eat. Meals at Joshua Creek are what top-tier hunting outfits should all aspire to provide. "Man food"—bacon, eggs, sausage, etc., and lots of it—for breakfast, then back to hunting. allowing hunters the opportunity to appreciate the native terrain and the game to use it for cover. Craig and I crossed one of the fords across the ranch's namesake creek before walking down and offshoot of the main road. It, like the other trails, led to a box stand with a view of a feeder tucked into the woodline. The sun hadn't come up yet, so Craig and I slipped inside and perused photos on his smartphone of other bucks taken from the property recently. I saw two things that brought immediate joy when light began to slip through the Plexiglas windows. The first was the grayish hides of five whitetail does feeding near the feeder—not our target species and an unusual coloration in June, but a sign of life nonetheless. The other was far more influential. A laminated sign was taped above the main shooting window, reminding the uninitiated of where to place a bullet on a white-tailed buck. The sign included some useful info for me. The sometimes- controversial neck shot was shown, complete with a red circle showing the proper shot placement. I prefer the neck shot, and here I was getting the green light from the ranch to take it if the opportunity arose. I was practically drooling into the GizmoPhoto/istockPhoto.com