There are some hunting destinations around the world that any, if not all hunters would do just about anything to experience at least once in their life. Africa, Alaska, across the wilds of Canada and pretty much every top hunting destination in North America have provided me many dream hunts so far. I’ve been so lucky it is inexplicable, but I shall continue to pursue, wrangle, manipulate, beg, borrow and almost steal to continue my good blessings.

I moved to Texas nine years ago for a series of coincidental reasons, but at the top of the list is the incredible quality hunting all across the mighty Lone Star State.

From the deer and exotic infested Hill Country to the world’s best kept muledeer secret of West Texas, to those maximum quality managed deer heavens around Albany, to the pig and Auodad dreams, waterfowling, varmints and beyond, there is no doubt that my favorite hunting is celebrated in South Texas where the deer are big and ubiquitous, the land is beautiful and endless, and the people are the best on earth.

I return to the famed Kenedy Ranch each winter to plunge headfirst into the dynamic tradition of deer hunting there, and can honestly say it is like no place on earth. The terrain is diverse, the land loaded with populations of wildlife that seem to defy the truism of carrying capacity. The huge, delicious, ultra wary Indian Nilgai antelope provides some of the most challenging hunting found anywhere. Javelina, feral hogs, Rio Grande turkeys and whitetails are everywhere.

And because the land is private and vast, these dense populations of game animals are minimally pressured and are more relaxed than any game I have ever encountered, except for Mexican critters. But only a fool would subject themselves to the evil dangers and corruption of the world’s most vile  government, and actually help finance the slaughter of innocents in Mexico. No thanks.

So BloodBrother and bowhunting/VidCamDude Bobby Bohannon and I returned to the fabled Kenedy with our BloodBrother Greg Curran and gang for another fantasy hunt.

Bobby and I prepared for venison liftoff. Unfortunately, bowhunting 101 was violated and we were directed to a brand new elevated box blind with too many windows that the deer had not become comfortable with, and all the bucks avoided it like the plague. Our first morning we were able to stealth into a big fat cactus donkey and I arrowed a pretty old she deer for Spirit of the Wild TV.

Having been boogered by some damn fine bucks that morning, we hurried to relocate our double ladderstand setup in the perfect cover for an afternoon ambush. They would never know what hit them.

We weren’t in our new killer stand very long when a sounder of eight hogs grunted their way into our grove. When a huge black sow got broadside, I managed to miss the quartering shot at thirty yards. But for what I may lack in accuracy, I more than make up for in tactics, and within two seconds, I zipped a perfect arrow into a fat brown boar.

Bobby is the best tracker I know, and he found where the coyotes dragged off my pig and he recovered what was left of the hams and straps at dark.

Two sets, two kills. This is fun.

At dawn the next morning, we were somewhat surprised to see a sounder of good looking hogs moving our way and got ready for pork. One giant, very tusky red boar was the only pig in the group that kept out of range, but after a long wait, he finally made the mistake of looking the other way, broadside, and I sent the prettiest arrow you ever did see smack dab into that pumpy crease.

With an instantaneous vicious snort, loud grunt and hyper squeal, the old warrior exploded through the scrub and tumbled porkchops over ham steaks in a swirling cloud of grey dust a short fifty yards yonder.

Big goofy grins on TV are a beautiful thing, and I couldn’t help myself as I ran to the fallen beast for TV recovery!

We hustled back into our tree, and like only South Texas can, it wasn’t long before deer could be seen skulking our way through the mesquite and live oak. Several does cautiously milled about snapping up kernels of corn, but were strangely fidgety for the area. As they moved off, three bucks appeared and took no time in stepping into the shooting zone. One real handsome eight point posed for a bowhunter education poster, and I obliged by giving it to him.

He tipped over right there with a severed central nerve, and I finished him instantly with another arrow.

More glowing celebration took place with Bobby and I feeling pretty pleased with ourselves. Ace bowhunter and guide Kris Helms fetched us a short time later, and we took care of the animals, had a good lunch and commenced to enjoy a live pigeon shoot into the afternoon.

Things didn’t go as planned on the afternoon set, with my most important arrow  of the season skimming low on a monster mature 150 class 10 pointer that brought painful consternation to our otherwise joyous hunt.

On our last morning with only an hour before departure from camp, we hit a distant thick area, corned the road, and settled in for a last ditch effort to try my brand new Ted Nugent Hunting Ammo.

Does filtered out of the forests, and then one heck of a dandy 10 point buck emerged from a few hundred yards. Bobby settled the vidcam and I anchored my GA Precision .270 on a solid rest as the bruiser followed the does closer and closer by the minute. At just under 200 yards, the big buck stood facing us and I told Bobby I was going to take him.

The 140 grain Nuge bullet slammed him dead center so hard, it throttled him straight up and back, flipping him up, over and upside down with only one or two kicks before he was still.

As we prepared to celebrate, a big doe darted out from the edge just beyond the buck, and Booby captured it on tape as my 2nd round found her heart, making a quick, perfect strapper double.

My new signature ammo proved itself, and we had pulled off a triple double. Two doe, two bucks and two hogs at the mighty Kenedy Ranch 2012. All is good in Tedland.