Morani River Ranch Whitetail Hunts

The huge buck stopped to freshen his scrape along the trail leading to the top of the mountain saddle. 

“It just might give me enough time to make the ridge line.” I was too far for a shot from here, and the light was fading fast. It was now or never. I kept a distant eye on him as I moved up the ridge, parallel to his route, but it was going to be a close race with darkness.

The buck was a true Southern Texas Monster. Boasting 12 symmetrical tines and a wide spread, his dark chocolate horns stood out in contrast to his powerful grey body. He was an older buck, at least six-years-old and wise in the ways of life. He was in his prime, and his thick, swollen neck and dark tarsal glands proved he was at the peak of the rut. I first spotted him from a ground blind earlier in the day chasing does at a distance. He never ventured close to my position and was totally focused on the doe in heat he was pursuing. I knew the second I saw his horns that he was a monster. A true trophy usually does not require a second glance, and he was no exception. 

After leaving the cover of my ground blind, it had been a long day of cat and mouse as I tried to get in position for a shot at the big buck. Nevertheless, it came down to this last minute dash against time and a very wary opponent.

As I moved up the ridge, the buck finished his work at the scrape and began moving toward the saddle. I knew it was going to be close, but I kept my steady pace up the steep ridge. After several minutes, I realized time won. I stopped and watched the monster buck as he topped out through the pass. His horns sky-lighted against the reddish-orange Texas sunset atop the Nueces River. He took one last look over his shoulder, and I surged with the feeling he knew I was behind him the entire time. Then, in a flash, he was gone—into the darkness and the steep, cedar-filled canyon beyond.

As I sat watching the last few moments of light fade away, I felt the mixed feelings every hunter experiences. The dejecting ache in my stomach from unsuccessfully harvesting the buck, yet a state of confused ambition that the hunt had not yet ended overwhelmed me. After all, I was hunting one of the most famous ranches in Texas, the Morani River Ranch.

My focus was the whitetail deer, and we were in the middle of the rut. I also knew that over 40 other species roam the ranch, and it is unknown what animals lie just around the next corner. My guide and host for the hunt is owner Kevin Reid. Earlier in the day he quipped, “You are never done hunting on the Morani until you are out of time or money.” And, he was right. The number of trophy animals we saw in our short two days of hunting was astounding. I long since lost track of how many different species we observed and even their names.

I’ll be up in the Lodge after our ranch-style dinner looking on my computer at Morani’s online animal encyclopedia listing every species on the ranch and blogging to all my hunt club buds back East about what they’re missing.

The good news—tomorrow is another day. I will be sitting on this same ridge come morning to begin the chase all over again. No telling what else was in that cedar thicket at the bottom of that steep draw.