To start out, this wasn’t my first rodeo at the Sellmark Ranch. I’ve been on the Sightmark Pro Staff team for six years now, and this was my fourth visit to the ranch.
These hunting trips have become a staple in my yearly planning. Every time I get the opportunity to come out here, the experience somehow manages to be more exciting than the last.
A little background before we get into the fun. I live in northern Ohio, where temperatures can vary from 100 degrees in the summer to well below zero in the winter. That has its pros and cons, as you can imagine. We don’t really have any wild hogs, but I love thermal hunting.
And that’s where this story begins.
Back at the Sellmark Ranch
When I finally stepped out of the airport terminal, I was promptly greeted by a 97-degree punch in the face. I’ve been to Florida in August, and I still stand by my statement that no place is hotter than Disney World in August, but Texas is a close second.
After about an hour-and-a-half drive southeast, I arrived at the Sellmark Ranch.
It’s one of those places where you could imagine finding John Dutton. Rolling pastures, cattle grazing, good-sized lakes and big, beautiful Texas skies. The main house is where we sleep and eat. To me, it’s a mansion, complete with the largest front door I think I’ve ever seen on a house. Inside are stone walls, a welcoming open floor plan and a giant fireplace with an elk mounted above it.
This would be home for the next three days.
Once I got settled in, it was time to prepare for the reason we started this journey: thermal hog hunting.
A short ride to the range, followed by a safety briefing from the legendary Kevin Reese, and we were ready to shoot. I spent an hour or so confirming my zero with my weapon of choice, an 8.6 Blackout. I normally run a Sightmark Wraith Thermal on it, but not this time. Today, I had the opportunity to run the prototype Wraith 2, a welcome upgrade for this beast.
After confirming zero, we headed back for dinner. I have to say, the food was amazing, as always. Jeff Hamilton is a hog-slaying machine, as well as one heck of a chef.
First Night in the Blind
After dinner was when the fun really began.
We split into teams of two and were dropped off about 100 yards from a hard blind standing roughly 10 feet tall. I was paired with my buddy Jacky. He and I have been on the Pro Staff team together for a couple of years now, and we always have a great time hunting and hanging out together.
We set out toward the blind, scanning the area as we went. Hogs tend to be nocturnal, but we do see them during daylight now and then.
Once we settled into the blind, we began what seemed like an eternity inside our plastic oven. If you’ve ever sat in a hunting blind when it’s more than 90 degrees outside, you know exactly where I’m coming from.
About three hours went by when I had an epiphany: There was a Sightmark night vision monocular in my bag that I had completely forgotten about.
I pulled it out and started scanning.
After a while, I handed the monocular to Jacky. Within moments, he said in a low but excited whisper, “Hog.”
We both grabbed our guns and locked onto the bright white heat signature of a 150-pound hog walking about 80 yards out.
Jacky said, “On three. One, two, three.”
One shot rang out in the darkness.
That’s when I realized my bolt wasn’t all the way into battery.
Rookie mistake, no doubt.
Luckily, Jacky is a deadeye and dropped the hog with one shot. With my ego crushed, we climbed out of the blind, recovered the hog and returned to our seats. I sat there sulking, angry at myself for not getting a shot off.
A First I Wasn’t Expecting
About 30 minutes later, I started hearing gunfire in the distance.
“Maybe something will push this way,” I thought.
I positioned myself toward the sound and started scanning with the Wraith 2 prototype. In the distance, I noticed a white spot moving.
“What is that?”
Its quick, lean movements as it darted behind the weeds told me it wasn’t a hog. Suddenly, it stepped into a clearing.
A coyote.
Ears up, tail low for balance, it slinked through the field. It stopped broadside about 60 yards out, and I slowly squeezed the trigger.
My round went right over its back.
My 8.6 cycled another round without hesitation. I took a follow-up shot and saw the coyote nearly backflip through the air. It was still running, but it was hit.
Jacky looked out the back door of the blind.
“I think I see him just inside the woods, Dan.”
I exited the blind and approached cautiously, anxious to see what I would find. There, in the underbrush, was a young coyote.
My first coyote kill.
Excited, I emerged from the woods holding my trophy up for Jacky to see.
“Got him!”
Day Two: Steel, Sun and 1,760 Yards
Day two began with a delicious breakfast, although I was sore and tired from the previous night’s walk through the woods. We headed back to the range for an afternoon of camaraderie and a friendly shooting competition.
Again, it was HOT. Nothing some chilled watermelon couldn’t handle, though.
One by one, we moved through the stations, taking turns shooting steel sitting out in the blazing sun. After the competition, I made my way over to find that fine gentleman and former Devil Dog, Kevin Reese.
He was sitting beneath the awning at the 2,200-yard range.
I sat down on the bench and looked across the valley at tiny white targets scattered across a sea of green grass. Kevin got me set up behind his custom-built .300 Norma Mag.
This gun is worth more than two months of my salary.
He told me, “Downrange, on the right-hand side, there’s a square target with a black border. That’s the one you want.”
I started scanning.
There, through the heat mirage, I found the target.
At 1,760 yards, it seemed like an eternity away to my naked eye. Through the optic, it looked like it was only a stone’s throw away.
“Shooter ready,” I said.
Kevin retorted in his typical growl, “Spotter up.”
As I breathed in and out, I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. Sweat dripped down my face. I took one last deep breath, exhaled, held at the bottom, steadied my hand and squeezed the trigger.
Seconds later, I heard it.
Longest Shot to Date
1,760 YARDS
“IMPACT! Nice shot, Dan. Welcome to the Mile Club.”
I opened the breech, sending the spent brass flying. Kevin picked up the still-hot casing and handed it to me with a smile.
I was proud.
It was the longest shot I had ever made, and I couldn’t stop smiling.
One More Night
Later that evening, we headed back out into the field. Jacky and I climbed into a new blind and enjoyed a few beautiful hours of peace as we watched the sun sink over the Texas horizon.
Day turned to night, and for a while, a family of raccoons was the only thing we saw.
Then 10:15 p.m. rolled around.
It was quiet, but in the darkness of the woods, we spotted a bright heat signature moving slowly, head down, rooting in the dirt.
“Hog,” Jacky said.
We watched it move closer and closer to the feeder before finally stopping nearby. I pressed the laser rangefinder button on the Wraith 2.
“On three. One, two, three.”
Two shots rang out.
Thankfully, I got my bolt all the way into battery this time, and it fired.
Through the Wraith 2, I saw what looked like something with a heat signature kick up off the hog, but it kept running. We stayed on it with follow-up shots as it closed the distance to the woods.
Jacky and I were both astonished that the hog was still moving.
Then it disappeared into the woodline.
“Dang it.”
We sat for a moment, gathered ourselves and started walking toward where it had been.
One streak of blood. That was all we found.
“How?” I asked, shaking my head.
We searched for another 45 minutes.
Nothing.
The Memories Are the Trophies
Sunday morning arrived with a bittersweet sunrise. We ate breakfast and shared stories from the night before. Garret and Emily, our hosts for the weekend, came in and started announcing the results of our shooting competition.
“And the winner is... Dan.”
A big smile crossed my face.
After breakfast, I stood in the driveway with my Pelican case in hand and realized that, despite not getting a hog, the memories were my trophies.
I took my first coyote on this trip.
I made a shot at 1,760 yards.
I took first place in the shooting competition.
The trip was a success.
I know each of these moments is a blessing from God, and I’m thankful for every opportunity, every memory and every sunrise.