Southwest Texas is a very special place for my family, specifically, on my in-laws’ side. In 1962, my wife’s grandfather purchased a roughly 450-acre ranch in Pearsall, not for farming or ranching, but for a place the family could enjoy together, learning how to hunt, camp, and spend time just being kids and learning to respect the outdoors. Since then, it has become a place where family roots have taken a proud hold. In the early days of the 60s and 70s, Dr. O’Connor was the only doctor in town. Tending to anything from cuts and colds to broken bones and even delivering babies at home. It would not have been unusual for him to show up at your doorstep with his medical bag to check up on you if you were feeling under the weather. The kind of doctor people truly trusted and would end up treating several generations of Frio County families. Although we never met, he seemed to me like the kind of man you don’t want to disappoint. Not out of fear of him, but out of respect, not to let him down, knowing how much he loved and cherished his family. Dr. Timothy O’Connor passed away in the mid-90s, but the legacy he left behind started to grow. Over the past 25 years, I have heard so many loving stories about him from his family and even met multiple patients he treated while practicing in Pearsall. It’s clear he was a well-respected, honest, and kind man who cared deeply for his family and young grandchildren.
Denise’s mother, Annie, moved to Pearsall in 1962. At that time, just a little girl, her family left the vast, dusty plains of Southern New Mexico behind for a new start raising cattle a few miles outside of Pearsall. Her father, “Buster”, a former sheriff in New Mexico, began what would become a legendary 64-year-old cattle ranch. Pretty quickly, at just 12 years old, David, Annie’s brother, would take control of the operation and spend the next several decades hanging on a horse, working harder and longer days than any one of us could imagine! Most folks don’t understand what it takes to run a ranch like David’s. He told me he could remember taking one vacation in his life. A trip to Portugal, which he earned through business. He told me a story about being a little boastful while in Portugal and accepting a challenge to fight a bull on foot like a matador. You mess with the bull, you get the horns. And that’s exactly what happened that day! Denise and I have been visiting “Davie” (as we call him) as much as we can recently. A bad back, worn knees, and, most recently, a cancer diagnosis at 80 have slowed him down. Davie is what I could consider the last of a TRUE Texas cowboy. Most of his life was spent on a horse. He once showed me his first saddle and said, “I bet I put a million miles on that saddle as a boy,” and I believed him. Hanging on the hallway wall of his old house is a gun rack with a few rifles, but one in particular caught my eye. An original Winchester 30-30. I can’t help but stare at it and imagine the stories and places it has been. Denise and I once attended a birthday party for his late wife Ann. It was at what looked like an old Legion Hall in Pearsall. The place was filled with people who not only knew David and Ann but clearly respected them. I quickly started to gather the caliber of man David Moore is, and I admired it. The party was full of old cowboys from around the area. Some with their fancy knee-high boots and bolo ties. A Mariachi band was playing, and the cowboys danced with their wives. I realized all these old gringos speak fluent Spanish, and that really surprised me! That night was forever imprinted into my memory.
The O’Connor ranch hasn’t changed a bit in all these years with the exception of deadfall and new mesquite growth. No cabins, no new fences or roads. In fact, there isn’t even running water or electricity. But Denise and I have been camping there every deer season for the past 23 years straight. Same campsite every single time. An area about 20’x 40’ cleared of all the mesquite, prickly pear cactus, and sage brush with a clear view of the night sky. There is not one thing permanent there but a hand-dug hole in the soft, red sandy ground where we burn our campfires and cook our meals. After the evening hunt, we gather around the fire for dinner – usually steaks and baked potatoes. Before we leave for the evening hunt, I stoke the fire well, wrap the potatoes in foil, and place them outside of the flames to cook for a few slow hours. Coming back to camp, dinner is that much closer to being ready. After dinner, we have some drinks together and tell stories for hours before zipping up our tents and trying to stay warm for the night. Although the sound of the coyotes singing is something we look forward to, it makes our guests a little uneasy, and we get a laugh out of that!
In the mornings, we head out for an early hunt unless you got lucky the night before. In that case, you are probably sleeping off a long night of celebrating.
Denise stays back at camp working on the fire and preparing a warm breakfast for everyone. If you’ve had it before, then you know how fulfilling and rejuvenating this is, almost like a soul food feeling! Everything is cooked in a cast-iron skillet over the fire. First, a package of bacon. Let that cook, then remove the bacon and add a dozen eggs to the grease to scramble. Denise saves a few cooked potatoes from the night before and reheats them in the skillet with some butter. Warm a handful of fresh tortillas over the fire until they swell up, then keep them in foil to stay warm. A fresh package of shredded cheese and some Tapatio hot sauce, and you have yourself the best potato, egg, bacon, and cheese campfire tacos with a hot cup of coffee. If you tell me it gets any better, you, sir, are a liar!
Hunting this place for as long as we have has come with some great experiences. Over the last couple of years, both Hunter and Ellie have harvested their best low-fence native whitetail deer to date. We have hosted an array of friends and family. Some continue to join us, and some we have so tragically lost. This is the place where our children learned how to hunt, clean, and butcher an animal. The place they learned how to watch their steps for rattlesnakes and be mindful of what to expect from predators like coyotes, feral hogs, bobcats, and even mountain lions. Here, they have learned to treat the land with respect and leave only their footprints behind. A place where you can really feel so far away from the daily grind that might be wearing you thin. A place to really charge your soul, as Denise would say.
Almost 65 years later…the R7 Moore Ranch and Cattle Company will continue operation for many years to come, but with new ownership. The old house and corals are still there. The view into the pasture is nothing short of jaw-dropping and deserves to be a painting passed down generation to generation. In fact, the next time we are there, Denise and I will crack a few Shiner Bocks and take the view in a little more than normal.
The O’Connor ranch remains unchanged. Both in a good way and a bad way. But I think that’s just the way things go. Enjoy the people you love around you and the things you treasure while you still have your health. Don’t fret about things you can’t change. This ranch serves as that exact lesson, and maybe that is what it’s for. Simplicity is best. The funny thing is, I never thought of it that way until I wrote this article…I am truly grateful.
From the Texas outdoors: Southwest Texas has a way of becoming family. For another hunt that honors the land and the tradition, Cazando El Pavo Del Rio Grande takes you into turkey country down near the river. And for a dove hunt that captures the same spirit, Paloma Fest is the one to read next.
