Knox in the Wild – Premont Adventures

Episode 2: South Texas Foraging & Prickly Pear Jelly

Welcome back to Knox in the Wild, a series rooted in real places, real work, and the lessons that come from spending time on the land.

This story begins at our home ranch in Boling, Texas, and ends four hours away at V8 Ranch South, tucked into the Wild Horse Desert near Premont. It’s a place where the pace slows, the roads turn to sand, and the land teaches in its own quiet way.

Sometimes the wild isn’t harsh or dramatic.

Sometimes it’s simple, quiet, and unexpectedly sweet.

The Long Road South

Dry. Dusty. Desolate.

That’s how Knox describes V8 Ranch South, our little slice of paradise tucked in the Wild Horse Desert near Premont, Texas. A long, unmaintained dirt road hides the entrance, guarded by sand, thorns, and a wind that smells of blooming brush. King Ranch is our neighbor, and when you turn down Ella Road, you know you’re headed somewhere special — and a little bit forgotten.

We left the main ranch in Wharton County mid-morning after chores and schoolwork, four hours of pavement and history stretching toward Mexico. Knox always announces when we’ve officially entered what he calls “real South Texas.” The soil turns to sand, the grass gives way to mesquite and huisache, and the humidity fades into a dry heat that slaps you the moment you open the truck door.

By the time we pull into camp, clouds of dust trail behind us — proof the land could use a drink. Knox knows this place: where to look for snakes and stickers, where the quail hide, and that the hum of the old air conditioner means we’re home.

While Catherine and I unloaded groceries, Knox launched into his first “adventure.” He’d been reading Steve Rinella’s Catch a Crayfish, Count the Stars, and decided it was time to test his new wilderness skills — specifically, page 73, “How To Poop Outside.” He dug a hole and “made a deposit in the sand.” When I reminded him that the book says to release the kraken 200 feet from camp or water, he explained that “the ground was too hard out there,” so he picked the soft soil under the air-conditioner drip line. Wilderness training gone wrong, Texas edition.

Days in the Wild Horse Desert

Mornings at V8 South start slow but full. A small fire keeps the biting flies away while biscuits and sausages cook over coals. Knox feeds the Santa Gertrudis cows and the GKB Hereford bull their supplement cubes, counts the calves to make sure everyone’s present, then heads off with Goose, our French Bulldog, to explore.

The Wild Horse Desert isn’t empty and desolate – it’s alive and thriving. The air smells of mesquite pods and blooming huisache, and the sand is dotted with yellow flowers and the purple tunas of prickly pear cactus. That’s what caught Knox’s eye this time. He pointed to a cactus loaded with fruit and said, “We could eat those!”

And just like that, we had a mission.

The Prickly Pear Project

Picking tunas sounds romantic until you meet a glochid — those tiny, invisible spines that somehow find their way into every finger. We burned them off over the fire (first-hand experience is a stern teacher), sliced the fruit, and boiled it down until the camp smelled like wild berries and smoke.

The first batch was a runny, magenta-colored syrup. Knox called it “prickly pear pancake topping.” The second batch, after a liberal dose of pectin, set up like a brick — delicious, but you needed a knife instead of a spoon. Somewhere between the two lies the perfect recipe, but perfection was never the point.

This fruit that feeds cattle during drought also fills our pantry. It ties our work and our reward together in one sweet, sticky lesson about making the most of what the land gives.

See Knox’s prickly pear making jelly adventure in real time:

Recipe: Prickly Pear Jelly (The Knox in the Wild Way)

Ingredients

• 3 cups prickly pear juice (burn off spines, cut in half, simmer, and strain)
• 1 packet powdered pectin (or two for “brick strength”)
• 2 tbsp lemon juice
• 4 cups sugar

Instructions

1. Combine juice, pectin, and lemon juice in a large pot; bring to a boil.
2. Add sugar and stir constantly for 5 minutes.
3. Test for set on a cold plate — if it wrinkles, it’s ready.
4. Pour into jars and seal. If it doesn’t set, call it syrup. If it sets too hard, call it rustic.
   

Either way, it tastes like South Texas sunshine in a jar.

Lessons from the Land

At Kavik River Camp, the quiet came from isolation. Here, it comes from a windmill turning, a turkey gobble somewhere in the brush, and a deer feeder clattering corn into the evening air. 

When the sun drops, a gold glow settles over the land, and the desert comes alive again — deer, javelinas, and the occasional rumored mountain lion slinking through the mesquite. At Premont, I’m never fully off the clock. Even without much cell service, there are endless to-do lists and repairs waiting. There’s also gratitude — the kind that hits you when you realize this dusty, beautiful life is yours. 

Watching Knox explore reminds me why the work matters. Brahman cattle are our job. The places they take us—the memories, the wildness, the moments between chores—that’s the reward.

Just as the animals find sweetness inside the thorns of a prickly pear, we’re learning to appreciate the good hidden in the grit.

Finding Sweetness in Tough Places

The Wild Horse Desert may look harsh, but it’s full of life and lessons if you take the time to notice. Hard yet soft, like mesquite that bends but rarely breaks.

Knox in the Wild is about more than just outdoor adventures. It’s about raising a kid who understands where his food comes from, who can adapt to harsh environments, and who finds joy in the small victories.

Every trip with Knox reminds me that the lessons we want to teach our kids often end up being the ones they teach us. Down here at V8 South, between the mesquite and the sand, I’m reminded that freedom doesn’t always mean escape. Sometimes it just means space — space to think, to slow down, to watch your kid dig in the dirt and call it adventure.

Knox has a way of turning work into wonder. He makes me notice the small things again — the color of the cactus fruit, the sound of the windmill, the way the world changes with a little rain. That’s the heart of Knox in the Wild: not the places we go, but the way those places shape us.

Until next time — here’s to chasing adventure wherever it leads and making jelly out of whatever life gives you.

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