John and I pulled up to Baker 3 Ranch and I knew this hunt was different from anything I’d done before. His church runs an annual hunt there, and it’s not about putting heads on walls—it’s about depth, challenge, and real bowhunting.

My first year was 2023. John brought me into it, and the second I got there, I understood why he talks about this place with so much respect. The ranch sits in rocky country, the animals are wild axis and blackbuck, and the hunt itself is a multi-day commitment with real challenge built into every stalk.

Scouting and Setting Up

Episode one was about getting oriented and laying the groundwork for the hunts to come. John and I spent the first day hiking the washes, placing Moultrie trail cameras at water holes and key spots, and looking for signs—rubs, tracks, water holes where axis come in to drink.

We heard axis roaring in the distance. That’s not a sound you hear from whitetail or elk. It’s unique, sharp, and wild. We moved toward the sound, trying to locate where the bucks were bedding. The terrain is all rock and creosote, so noise discipline matters. Every footfall on the rocks is a potential give-away.

We found a good water hole, set up a camera, and moved into some shade to gllass and listen. The afternoon wore on and we heard more roars. We knew the animals were in the area.

There’s just something special about this hunt that is way more in depth than killing a giant bull on a side of a mountain.

As light started getting thin, I spotted a buck across a clearing—about 100 yards away. I made my move, repositioned toward some better trees to close distance. But in moving to get a better position, I stood up and there he was—a good axis buck right across the water. I drew back and sent an arrow. Clean miss. That’s the hunt right there. Not the story I wanted to start with, but that’s what happens when you hunt wild animals with a bow.

What Baker 3 Really Is

This hunt isn’t about guaranteed success or trophy guarantees. It’s about being in rugged terrain, making long stalks on wary wild animals, and learning to hunt without a net. We’ve got more episodes coming. Animals will hit the ground. Decisions will be made. The hunt will unfold like it really does in the field, not like a highlight reel.

If you want to see what commitment to archery and wild country looks like, Episode 2 shows where this led. And if you’re hunting javelina in similar terrain, Texas hunts teach the same lessons about stalking and pressure.

I came to Rock N Roll Redneck Ranch the day before rifle season opened because Mark was kind enough to let me bow hunt first. What I got was a lesson in adaptation and honest hunting that I carry with me every season.

It was November 4th, 2022, and my buddy and I were heading out to rattle in some deer and maybe take a shot with the bow before the rifle opener. We were grateful just to be on good ground. We’d been worried about getting to hunt at all that year, and Mark gave us permission to be there. That was enough.

The Opener Doesn’t Cooperate

November 5th came in cold—37 degrees—and crisp. Opening day in Texas. We sat the blind expecting to see does, maybe a small buck. Nothing came. Not a single sighting all morning. We heard a couple distant gunshots, but nothing on the property. The hogs that were supposed to be everywhere? Nowhere to be found.

Here’s the thing about opening day: it’s not always what you dream about the night before. Sometimes it’s slow. Sometimes it’s cold and quiet and the animals are somewhere else, doing whatever they want while you’re sitting in a blind wondering if you made the right call.

I know you wanted to eat, I wanted to eat too—I sent one through the PMP house later baby.

We had two sits to work with and we needed meat for the freezer. Simple as that. So we made the call: we grabbed the AR-15 and started still-hunting the back side of Mark’s property. No dramatics, no trophy hunting. Just two bowhunters who became rifle hunters because the situation demanded it.

Walking the back, we heard gunshots—closer this time. Maybe Mark connected. Maybe John and his son got something. We headed back toward the blind to see what the morning had turned into. We didn’t know if there was meat on the ground or just more hunting ahead.

Real Hunts Teach Real Lessons

Mark was generous with his ground, and I was grateful. I’ve been hunting long enough to know that the hardest days often teach more than the easy ones. This was an honest hunt from start to finish. No gimmicks, no script. Just a November morning and two guys trying to put meat in the freezer before dark.

The rifle season opening taught me something important: hunting isn’t always about perfect conditions and trophy moments. Sometimes it’s about showing up, adapting when the plan changes, and doing what needs to be done. When your season opens slow like this, having the right attractants in your pack and the patience to work through tough mornings matter more than luck. Come back tomorrow. Keep grinding.

Eleven seconds. That’s all it takes to remind you why you hunt exotics.

An axis buck roaring—that deep, guttural call—is something you don’t forget. It’s aggression, dominance, territorial claim all wrapped up in one sound. When you’re that close and the camera catches it, you get to feel what I felt in the moment: the raw power of that animal and the privilege of being in the same space.

Axis deer have a completely different rut than whitetail. That roaring is their language during the rut—it’s how they establish dominance and challenge rivals. Getting footage of this close is rare. It means the stalk was good, the approach was silent, and the moment was there for the taking.

This is the hunting experience most folks don’t see. Not the trophy photo after the harvest, but the genuine encounter with an animal doing what animals do—living, competing, surviving. That’s what bowhunting exotics in Texas gives you.

Moments like this fuel the next hunt. Check out my other axis deer hunts and exotic hunting content.

Once you’ve made your shot, the hunt isn’t over—it’s shifted into a different gear. That’s what you see here: the recovery.

Tracking a whitetail after a good hit requires patience and attention. Every drop of blood, every disturbed leaf tells a story. You move slow, you listen, and you let the sign guide you. This is where bow hunting demands respect for the animal—you’re not sprinting through the woods looking for a quick find. You’re moving with purpose and care.

This 2018 buck was a reward for the hours spent in the stand, the early mornings, the wind checks, and the discipline to wait for the right moment. The recovery is the final part of that respect. It’s you honoring the work the animal made you do to earn him.

Meat on the table, a story to tell, and lessons learned about what it takes to be a bowhunter in Texas. That’s what these recoveries mean.

Check out my first archery kill and axis hunts for more on the pursuit.

Javelina aren’t like any other game animal. They’re tough, aggressive, and they’ll teach you about pressure if you hunt them with a bow.

Texas javelina hunting requires a different mindset than whitetail or exotic game. You’re not hunting for a wall hanger. You’re hunting because the animal is there, the challenge is real, and you want to test yourself against something that doesn’t care about your experience level or how much you’ve invested in your setup.

Reading Wind and Terrain

Javelina move in groups, and they’re alert. Wind matters absolutely. You can be good at stalking, but if the wind is wrong, it doesn’t matter. I scout the approach, figure out where the group is headed, and work to intercept them before they catch my scent.

The terrain in Texas javelina country is brush, cactus, and open spaces. There’s no sneaking through thick cover. You’re either spotted or you’re not. When you find a group, you have one move—maybe two if you’re lucky.

Why Javelina Matter

This hunt teaches precision and confidence under pressure. At 20 to 30 yards with a bow on a collared pig, your shot has to be clean. You can’t afford a bad hit. That pressure is good. It strips away the ego and makes you focus on execution.

Javelina hunting with a bow isn’t about trophies. It’s about testing yourself as a bowhunter.

The skills you build stalking javelina carry into every other hunt. Arizona offers similar terrain and similar challenges, and the precision you develop transfers to exotic game hunting too.

I got him. The moment the arrow flew true and hit home, everything else just stopped mattering. This is the story of my first archery whitetail buck — the shot, the wait, and the recovery that made me a real bowhunter.

The Shot

There’s that split second of pure adrenaline — your heart’s pounding, you’re shaking, and the reality of what just happened hits you all at once. But then the work starts. You can’t just celebrate; you’ve got to get down, track that deer, and do right by the animal you’ve taken.

Tracking the Blood Trail

That recovery hike hits different. You’re looking for blood sign, reading the ground, moving careful because you know every step matters. This is where everything you’ve learned about reading deer movement, understanding where an animal’s likely to go, and staying calm comes into play.

When you find him, there’s gratitude mixed with the adrenaline. You thank him for the meat, for the opportunity, for the hunt that got you there. That’s what separates hunting from just shooting.

Becoming a Real Bowhunter

This is the moment I realized I’d become a real bowhunter. Not because I’d made a good shot — plenty of hunters make good shots. But because I understood what came after, and I was ready for it.

For the follow-up story years later, read about my 2018 Texas archery buck recovery — same feeling, more experience, same respect for the animal.

Connect With Me

If this story resonated, here’s how to follow the rest of my bowhunting journey:

• Subscribe to American Country Outdoors on YouTube — every hunt, start to finish.
• Follow @kirtbox on Instagram and DM me — I answer.
• Read my 2018 archery buck recovery for the next chapter.
• Brands — if you make gear worth hunting with, reach out on Instagram. I hunt first, write second.

I drew back and released. That perfect shot—the one every archer lives for—finally happened.

Axis deer are crafty. They’ve got keen senses and they know the land like we know our own yards. But that morning, everything lined up the way it should. The wind was right, the stalk was clean, and when the moment came, I trusted my form and my gear.

There’s something sacred about the ethical take. It’s not just about the animal—though I respect every single one. It’s about the work that goes into it: the practice, the hours of scouting, the patience waiting for the right moment. My Victory Archery arrows flew true, and that’s what matters.

This is why I hunt. Not for the glory or the photos (though they’re nice). It’s for that one moment when everything clicks and you know you’ve done it right.

Check out my other Texas exotic hunts and archery kill stories to see more of what bow hunting means to me.

The best hunting moments are often the shortest ones.

We were working a spot when an axis doe spotted us and started barking—that repeated, sharp alarm call that axis use to warn the herd.

The best hunting moments are often the shortest ones.

She was close, alert, and completely wild. That repeated, sharp alarm call that axis use to warn the herd. She was close, alert, and completely wild. No domestication, no second thoughts. Just an animal reacting to a threat in her territory.

No shot, no kill, no trophy. Just a moment of connection with something wild. That’s why I hunt. The bigger hunts have plenty of action, but moments like this—where you’re just witnessing raw animal behavior—those are what I remember when the season ends.