Turkey Hunting at a Texas Exotics Ranch? Yeah, I Did It

You don’t usually associate turkey hunting with infinity pools, themed guest rooms, and trophy displays full of wild game from the African plains. But that’s exactly what awaited when onX Maps invited a small crew of outdoor writers, industry insiders, and seasoned hunters (including yours truly) to hunt low-dollar birds on a high-dollar ranch.

These Rio Grande turkeys were tucked into the brush on a Texas exotics ranch that is better known for axis deer and imported antelope. Admittedly, I had pretty conservative hopes. After all, I don’t really consider myself much of a turkey hunter.

Toss in an unfamiliar and unproven location for a subspecies of bird I’d never hunted, and I was all but ready to claim defeat before the hunt even began. The result, however, ended up being a strange and beautiful blend of luxury and wildness that somehow worked.

The Setting: Two Dot Ranch, Central Texas

Located in the scrub-brushed heart of Central Texas, Two Dot Ranch is what happens when old-money ranching aesthetics meet a safari outfitter’s fever dream. The property has dall sheep, oryx, blackbuck, and axis deer grazing behind high fences.

Limestone fire pits and cathedral-style trophy rooms wait back at the lodge. The infinity pool seemingly flowing off into the desolate, thirsty ground below added an additional touch of disconnect. It’s a bit like seeing a million-dollar home in the middle of a housing project — something so at odds it feels almost criminal.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a stunning property. It’s just hard to take in and truly comprehend the dichotomy.

All that being said, when we get down to brass tacks, this is not a turkey hunting destination — or, at least, it wasn’t.

Turkeys had never been hunted on this ranch before. Our group was going in fairly blind, chasing birds with zero hunting pressure and no previous calling. These gobblers had no idea what a turkey hunter even was.

It all sounded like a slam dunk until you remember that turkeys are, well, turkeys.

And they happen to be jerks if you’re a turkey hunter.

The Birds: Wild, Wily, and Smarter Than Us

Despite the high-end surroundings, the Rio Grande wild turkeys on the property didn’t make things easy. They moved like ghosts through mesquite flats and oak scrub. They often used the same fences meant to contain exotic species as cover and escape routes. We watched gobblers skirt property lines, hang up just out of range, and vanish into the brush as if they had been pressured for seasons.

Just to reiterate, I am not a turkey hunter. What I mean by that is that I have, indeed, hunted turkeys. I have not, by any measure, put much of any effort into learning and perfecting that hunt. Turkey hunting is typically a side quest for me if I happen to come across them in the spring bear woods or the fall elk hills.

So … How Does One Hunt a Turkey on a Luxury Ranch?

The difference between chasing a bird here and pretty much anywhere else is pretty slim. Shut up and hold still. That is the secret to bringing a turkey into a reasonable range, regardless of your weapon of choice.

Camo, for this particular species, feels like an absolute necessity. Birds see through movement, so if you blend in, hold still, and toss out just the right combo of cluck and purr, you’ll have a dang good shot of bagging tomorrow’s leftovers.

The major difference on this ranch is making sure you don’t accidentally pepper a zebra in the process.

Like all males of most species, they get a bit derpy around the breeding season. They’re pretty eager to come find you, if they think you’ll offer them a chance to shoot their shot. Which, ironically, is perfect when you’re also looking to shoot yours.

Being the non-turkey hunter of the group felt like I was treading into new territory, chasing birds I knew nothing about, and sure to be a hindrance to our overall success.

Instead, over the course of the week, the crew, myself included, tagged four mature toms. It all culminated with a last-minute bird taken by outdoor writer Eddie Nickens. He managed to bag his just before heading to the airport, running on nothing but Red Bull and a tight travel schedule.

The People: A+ Camp Vibes

What made this hunt work was not just the birds or the novelty of the location. It was the people.

The camp crew included a mix of hunters, storytellers, skeptical Texans, and industry professionals. These were people who knew how to call birds, mix drinks, and throw a well-timed jab in conversation. Brooks Hansen from Camp Chef kept everyone fed with outrageously good meals made from wild game, fish, and ranch-raised meats.

The contrast in personalities ranged from hilariously loud to quietly snarky and everything in between. There’s something about the humans in your camp that can make or break the vibe of any hunt, successful or not.

I am certain that we could have retreated from the brush empty-handed at the end of the week and still had a good time. I can also attest that most media hunts don’t have that laid-back vibe.

To be blunt, I often ask who will be attending these trips before I ever give the big thumbs up to my attending. This is a trip where the attendees list gave me a sigh of relief, knowing I was in the company of cynical jokesters who would find as much enjoyment in the turkey woods as they would around the fire.

The beer was cold. The conversations were honest. For once, no one seemed in a rush to get back to the real world from this “work” trip.

The Gear: What Worked in the Field

It wouldn’t be a GearJunkie hunt without a breakdown of the gear, right?

onX Hunt App

I don’t know many hunters who don’t already use onX, but on this particular trip, I learned a heap of new tips and tricks to make using it slicker. I won’t dive too deep because that could be a whole article all on its own (fortunately, Sean McCoy already wrote a pretty slick article about it), but I will give you this gem:

Hold two fingers down on the screen in locations you want to know the distance of, and it will toss up a temporary line measurement that disappears shortly after you let go.

To say I have a pile of needless lines with distances I don’t even care about is an understatement. Those days are now gone.

I don’t know what I would do without onX, honestly. It’s become both my most used hunting tool and my straight-up navigator. I even use it for directions.

Primos Turkey Calls

There’s no way to explain how dang purdy this year’s Custom Box Calls from Primos are. A combination of slate calls, diaphragms, and box calls were used across the range in varying frequency to call in the Toms. Other than this year’s custom box, the tried-and-true Heartbreaker made more than one appearance.

Fun fact: If you didn’t know, every single box call that leaves Primos is hand-tuned before it makes it to your door.

Mossy Oak Camo

I have very little experience with Mossy Oak. Growing up in the West, we had minimal moss and certainly no oak. The terrain being what it was, I’m not sure I’d go with the Full Foliage pattern for central Texas, but the results speak for themselves.

The Tibbee Flex Vented Hoodie was comfortable, breathed well, and certainly didn’t break the bank as far as hunting tops go. I may end up ordering one in Bottomland for the in-between brown seasons out west.

Camp Chef

Brooks Hansen, the camp chef from Camp Chef, a world-renowned (or at least outdoor industry-renowned) master of the grill, has done it again, folks. He cooked us up some meals that cannot be beat on grills sent down from Camp Chef, and I’m angry at him for it. His food always tastes better than mine, and now I have to buy another dang grill.

I think we often talk about the items we’ll end up having to buy after these trips, but the Gridiron 36 is already in my cart, just waiting for payday. It’s everything I’ve wanted in a flat-top grill, and seeing it in action has forced me to accept that it’s time, budget be damned.

Final Thoughts: Can Luxury and Wildness Coexist?

This hunt wasn’t typical. It wasn’t what most hunters think of when they picture turkey camp. But it was real. The birds were wild. The challenge was legitimate. And the setting, although bordering on absurd, added to the experience.

I have a strange appreciation for the hunt culture of Texas. It’s mostly bewilderment and confusion, with a touch of whimsy and envy, and an overall tone of WTF. That’s a good thing, I think.

It’s certainly its own place and moves to its own drum. There was something fitting about chasing regular game in a place of such opulence. It felt on-brand for me.

The takeaway here is simple: You can hunt turkeys where they have never been hunted before. You can sit against a mesquite tree with someone you just met and leave feeling like lifelong friends. And you can chase wild game in a place with valet parking and chandeliers, as long as you’re willing to toss your boots off at the door.

Just don’t forget your calls and maybe pack one decent shirt. Drinking bourbon in dusty camo under a crystal chandelier will make anyone feel just a bit out of place.