In an earlier Tale I had referenced my Uncle Orville who hunted with my Dad and Grand Dad for many years until his passing. The hunters each had one blind named after them along with others which may be another story in itself.
Uncle Orville was a tall lanky guy who had been a star track runner in his high school days. His long legs sure made it hard to keep up as a pre-teen when he “got in gear” headed to his named spot which set about 100 yards shy of being 1 mile off FM 140 out west of Pearsall close to Frio Town. After his passing, we renamed it the Back Blind.
Whenever he got a few days off from his job as a Captain within the Corpus Christi Fire Department during Deer Season, he would come to Pearsall and spend some time hunting at the Hiler Lease. He would always stop by our house to see us and pick up a batch of pecans from the two mature trees that still stand to this day at 218 N. Ash. Stuffing his pockets full, he would crack pecans while walking to and sitting in his blind.
By the end of the season, it was absolutely no problem to follow the winding path through the thick mesquite brush and more open, low bottom “black land” full of retama to arrive at the blind. The trail was filled with pecan hulls as was the ground floor of the mesquite log blind.
After his sudden and unexpected passing due to a heart attack, we did not have those hulls to follow anymore. Dad and I hunted that spot many times over the years after that, often with some good results. On many an occasion we would both comment, we sure missed those pecan hulls and the man who left them.
There were no established roads in that particular pasture, and none of us drove trucks back then. Harvesting a big old buck way back there sure did make for an often long and arduous effort to get our trophy in the trunk of the car sitting 1 full mile away! Today that would be more “fun” than I could handle. But back then it was simply part of the adventure.