THE HUNT GOES ON FOREVER 2019
If I am not eating, sleeping or talking hunting, most of my friends and family would more than likely think something was wrong. Our great state of Texas has so many wide open spaces with a variety of different wildlife and ecological destinations a person can litterly go insane. Considering myself lucky for being raised in the small town of Munday Texas, which is located in Knox County where the Rolling Plains begin, our daily lives were not fast and furious but day to day activities were ever what energy we wanted to muster up and make of them. Having quite a few family ties to this small community, since my great-great grandfather R.P. Munday was the first Postmaster, and later the town being named after him, is still today a huge part of my family character and the reason for enjoying the outdoors with my family and friends. With my mom being raised on the Ford farm and only one other sister with eleven brothers to care, cook and clean for I had plenty of room to wander around this neck of the woods with a lot of uncles for teachers. We had our share of chopping and picking cotton on my grandpa Fords farm and stocking shelves in my grandpa Hollars grocery store but always made time for a little shooting and hunting. We could always sit in my dad’s chicken coop and surprise the sparrows stealing our hen’s milo with the trusty Daisy Red Ryder and could rely on our Coleman pellet gun to bring down a few crows at night off the roost in the pecan orchards. We were sneaky enough to quietly creep up the steep banks of an ole stock tank and surprise the ducks with our shotguns and accurate enough to shoot competition at an early age for ribbons at the local 4-H turkey shoots with our single shot 22. Not very hard to figure out but, we usually had to many other things on our day to day agenda to be aware of other things going on around the rest of our great state of Texas, but, we could tell you just about everything taking place in our community and the surrounding area. We knew every inch of the red dirt roads for miles and miles and how to get from here to there without ever hitting any asphalt. We knew every farmer, rancher and where the nearest tractor was to pull ourselves out of the deep bar ditches and whether it was from our parents, grandparents or 4-H classes we all learned at a young age how to use and shoot firearms safely. It was just a way of nature to always have the choice of gun hanging in the back window of our truck and filled our spare time shooting jackrabbits, cottontails, prairie dogs, coyote and even an occasional road sign every now and then while driving the back roads listening to Merle Haggard, Conway Twitty, good old rocking roll music along with a few other things I will not talk about at this time. We were just good ole red dirt road boys having some fun and creating ways to pass the time away trying to stay out of trouble. Around these parts it was never heard of to see anything even close to or resembling a deer unless it was by pure coincidence and deep in the breaks of the Brazos River. It was there, if you wanted to dare the thick mesquite and cedar with the occasional quick sand, you could get a glimpse of a whitetail every now and then. We always had a little extra time from school, sports and hard work to do a little hunting when we could afford the high gas prices at 19 cents per gallon. I remember many trips to Coy Jenkins ole tank with my dad at high noon to shoot a few morning dove and later in life with my friends filling our limit with the dark blue clouds and cool bite to the air from the first cool front of the year which would always blow down many northern dove to feast on the maize and cotton covering the farmland. It was a trip to my Uncle Roy and aunt Rosita’s(her sister Mary Elizabeth married Howard Butts) farm in Comfort with my parents I had my first deer hunting experience. Uncle Roy had a Winchester lever action 30-30 and let my dad and I hunt from an old outhouse sitting back in the pasture within walking distance from the house. My aunt Rosita gave us strict orders not to shoot her pet deer with the bell hanging off a red collar or we were sleeping outside for the remainder of our visit. The nice warm beds inside from the cold were a blessing as we took a nice fat doe and stayed out of the dog house. My grandfather, Earl Hollar, who had one of the first filling stations and grocery stores in Munday, also had property along with his seven brothers in the small community of Dumont which is about an hour farther up north from Munday in King County. I fell in love with this small community on my very first trip and it never ended from then on with the beautiful rolling hills, rugged canyons, fertile farmland and the many surprises, challenges and experiences these trips always had in store. With all of my grandfather’s family being raised as farmers and ranchers in this small community since the late 1800’s we had plenty of space and opportunities here also. Riding in the back of my uncles old 49 ford pickup through the tall cottonwood and mesquite tress along the creek beds with snow on the ground and large coveys of blue quail huddled up under every mesquite tree were fun times as a youngster for it was easy shooting. Later back at the house we would stack all the birds on top of the rustic pulley drawn water well, located on the back screened in porch, where we would clean them and into the kitchen they would go where the ladies had a hot frying pan waiting. My Uncle Dub Hollar, who lived with his family in the old rock jail located in beautiful downtown Guthrie, was sheriff of King County for a number of years where there were many stories of Quanah Parker, rattlesnakes buzzing in the wire cages outside the old gas station and filming of a Roy Roger movie in the early 60’s, who I had the pleasure of meeting on one of my visits. Moments like this with family are something that will always be there to share with your children and grandkids. Later in the early 60’s a few whitetail were introduced on some of the larger ranches in the area and this was the beginning of what would be my home away from home. In the middle to late 70’s we were seeing more and more whitetail and areas were opened up to a one buck county and does by permit only. Being surrounded by larger ranches, such as the Pitchfork, Tongue River and 6666’s, which all had little or no hunting pressure and good game management, our deer population was always moving in the right direction.
Living in Ft. Worth for a while and finally moving to San Marcos in 1977 our family still has property on the old home place in Dumont where we can visit and hunt regularly and still make our annual trips to Munday for homecomings and dove hunting. My wife Julie and two daughters were then part of our visits to mema’s and papa’s where I would begin working on their outdoor and hunting adventures. Julie’s first hunting experience was sitting on the back of my truck one of those hot and windy days in September where she would put a steady aim on her first dove as it was howling with a good tail wind behind. With her first kick from a 20 gauge recoil, the bird dropped doing a little whirlybird routine and crashing on the tailgate right beside her. The only words out of her mouth with a murky smile were “this is easy.” She would later take up her bird watching hobby which has proved to be the outdoor adventure of her choice.
My two wonderful daughters loved running around in the open spaces and crawling around the bar ditches but would only end up being a couple of real good birddogs which I loved every minute of. They have both since grown up to beautiful young women but still enjoy the outdoors and will take you up on a moment’s notice for blasting a few clay pigeons. I now have two grandkids and working on their outdoor experiences which seem to be working out to be some good future hunting buddies. My granddaughter loves all the pink camo and the grandson is getting pretty accurate with his bb gun and enjoys his trips to the farm. As years go by and nature takes its regular normal patterns the blue quail were getting thinner and thinner around the Dumont farm but the turkey and pigs were getting thicker and thicker. The hogs running around the rolling plains and lower panhandle were a Russian cross and you did not want to walk up on a big Boer or a mom with her little ones for you was in big trouble. They have since multiplied here and around almost every part of Texas where the damage can be extensive on any property they feel comfortable setting up home on. Don’t let your guard down but do go out and harvest some of these wonderful tasting game animals and invite friends and family over for your next cookout. Since then I have hunted on many ranches all across the great state of Texas and have had many wonderful stories to talk about around the campfires including another Texas Big Game Awards typical mule deer in the 2011-2012 season. I am so proud to of had the privilege of holding on to this beautiful and priceless piece of family property with all the history and stories behind it and able to pass it down to my children and grandchildren for their pleasure in the years to come. Over the past couple of retirement years we have constructed the new cabin over the site of my Uncle Roy’s old store in Dumont and are enjoying our trips up with friends and family. Although it is hard to take a gun out of my hand it is very enjoyable to see our grandkids and friends enjoy a part of Texas I love and will cherish always. With all of these wonderful times in the outdoors I hope all of you will have the time and get out with your family, grandkids or just a good hunting buddy and experience these opportunities or will have them on your bucket list for the future.
Well, with a couple of fronts already blown through it is starting to look like what should be a good year for all us who enjoy hunting and the beautiful outdoors. Each week the weather is getting a little cooler with each of the fronts lined up sweeping down from the north and our days will be getting a little shorter. We will be cleaning our guns and taking the many trips to Academy and Cabalas to stock up on those last minute essentials. We need the warmer boots, tighter and warmer fitting gloves, a better bullet, some buck snorts and doe blimps and of course not forgetting the many fragrances of scent for getting the boy’s attention of the girl’s. Days will be getting a little shorter along with the sun setting earlier and before you realize, our necks will be getting just a little stiffer and our own habits will be changing day by day. It is time for our stress levels to drop, our minds wonder, and our daily work routines to be of second nature, for… it is that time in Texas where “THE HUNT GOES ON FOREVER.”

Thanks for the read Lotto

You live the country boy life that most us city boys dream about

Awesome read!!! Makes me think about hunting and fishing with my dad and grandparents back in the 70s in and around Eastland county . You can take the boy out of the country but you can’t take the country out of the boy even as he grows older. Fall is where it all starts!!! Hunting , Thanksgiving and Christmas all in a 3 months span it doesn’t get much better.

Really enjoyed that. Thanks for sharing.

Great read

Thanks for sharing

i just made my first trip to the pitchfork what a place hunted so tex and mexico for many yrs so this is a new experiance for me did see the old jail in guthrie wondered about it, they had some local inmates working in the yard there