My Reflections on Tradition, Friendship, and the Simple Pleasures of our Deer Camp Life
The Energy around my South Texas deer camp never ceases to amaze and energize me.
A Deer camp ought not to be too much
like whatever you had to leave behind to get there. After all, if you wanted
all the comforts, distractions, and conveniences of home…
That's not to say a deer camp should be completely devoid of modern
conveniences. I'm not suggesting we return to sleeping on the ground beneath in
a tent, bathing with cold water and wash rag, or cooking every meal over an
open fire. I've done enough of that to appreciate running water, a hot shower,
and a comfortable place to sleep.
My idea of a proper deer camp falls somewhere between a modern home and a
Spartan outpost. It ought to be comfortable enough to enjoy, but primitive
enough to remind you where you are.
Even a smartphone has its place in a modern deer camp.
It's useful for
emergencies. It also allows a busy person the opportunity checking on your business, allowing you be at
the Deer camp in the first place. It also allows checking on family, or finding
a replacement part when something breaks. And believe me, if there's one thing
you can count on at deer camp, it's that something is eventually going to
break.
But the telephone ought to remain a convenience, not become the center of
attention. The best conversations at deer camp happen between the people
sitting around the table, not between someone and a little screen.
A deer camp ought to be at the end of a road—the kind of road that
discourages ordinary traffic. Preferably one with enough ruts, mud holes, and
rough spots to make things interesting.
I don't particularly like seeing passenger cars parked around a deer
camp. Pickup trucks and beat-up four-wheel drives belong there. A shiny new car
just looks out of place.
There ought to be water nearby, too. At the very least, enough water for
the wildlife and enough mud to remind you that you're in the woods. A little
mud on your boots is part of the experience.
But the most important ingredient in a proper deer camp is something you
cannot buy at a sporting goods store.
Tradition.
Let's face it. Everything has to begin sometime, including a deer camp.
But a brand-new camp, no matter how elaborate or expensive, is missing
something that only time can provide. It hasn't yet accumulated the memories,
the stories, the personalities, and the little customs that distinguish one
camp from another.
A proper deer camp ought to have some history behind it.
It ought to have a few old-timers who remember when the camp was a
one-room shack, and when a good deer season was measured as much by the stories
told as by the number of deer harvested.
And those stories are important.
Aside from the hunt itself, some of the greatest pleasures of deer camp
come at the end of the day, when everybody gathers around the fire or the
supper table to recount the day's adventures.
Every evening brings a fresh collection of stories. Some are true, some
are mostly true, and a few improve considerably with each telling. Most will be
forgotten before the season ends. But the best ones—the classics—become part of
the camp's folklore.
Years later, some old hunter will begin, "You remember that morning
when..." and everybody knows exactly which story is coming.
They've heard i t a hundred times. They'll listen anyway..
Even the deer stands ought to have names, not numbers.
Like the Jimmy Steel Blind, or the Cooks Blind, close enough to Camp where the cCamp Cook can slip back to camp ahead of the hunters to start preparing a meal, or The Windmill Blind, named for some old windmill that may have stopped working years ago.
It takes years to properly name a full complement of deer stands. That's
another reason a deer camp has no business staying new.
And then there's the food.
Food nourishes more than the stomach at deer camp. It nourishes
tradition.
Who can imagine heading into the woods on a bitterly cold morning without
first sitting down to a breakfast of bacon, eggs, hot biscuits, and
strong coffee?
But the real feast ought to be saved for the evening meal.
That's when tired, hungry hunters gather around a big table, pull up whatever chairs are available, and enjoy a supper that somehow tastes better at deer camp than it ever would at home.
Fried venison backstrap, rice and gravy, and whatever else the camp cook has managed to put together.
Nobody seems particularly concerned about calories at deer
camp. Those are matters best left for another time and place.
After the evening meal, It is the time for adult beverages, a cold beer or your favorite mixed drink. Because good hunting stories don’t start of over ice tea.
Then it’s time for the Card games to begin
Then it is time for adult games begin..."Where You Gonna Hunt Tomorrow?"
The game usually begins while everybody is sitting around the fire waiting
and one hunter casually asks another, "Where you gonna hunt
tomorrow?"
The answer is almost always the same.
"I dunno. Where you gonna hunt?"
And so it begins.
Nobody wants to reveal his plans. Everybody wants to know everybody
else's plans. Questions are asked, answers are avoided, and conversations go in
circles.
The first fellow foolish enough to admit where he intends to hunt is
generally considered the loser.
A good deer camp ought to have a few characters, too.
There's usually one fellow one who always sees the biggest buck, and
another who somehow manages never to see anything at all.
There's the fellow who knows everything about deer hunting, whether
anybody asks him or not. And there's usually one old hunter who doesn't say
much, but when he does, everybody listens.
These characters are as much a part of deer camp as the rifles, the muddy
boots, and the fire pit/
Now, I suppose somebody might ask whether I've forgotten the most
important requirement of a deer camp.
The Deer.
Yes, a deer camp ought to have plenty of deer nearby. After all, isn't
hunting deer the reason we went there in the first place?
But after enough years of hunting, a fellow begins to understand that
killing a deer isn't necessarily the most important part of going to deer camp.
There's a certain kind of peace that comes from sitting alone in a deer
stand on a tall hill on a cold, clear morning, watching the woods slowly come
to life.
The first hint of daylight appears along the horizon. The birds begin to
stir. Something rustles through the leaves.
And there you sit looking out across the hills and draws, with nothing
demanding your attention except the natural world around you.
You might see a deer. You might not.
Either way, you've experienced something worthwhile.
There's just no better medicine for the mind than a quiet morning in a
deer stand Blind, watching the sun rise over the woods and realizing that, for
a little while at least, the troubles and demands of the outside world seem a
long way off.
And when the hunt is over, you return to camp, where the coffee is hot,
somebody has a story to tell..
That's my deer camp story…
Not simply a place to kill a deer, but a place to enjoy the woods,
preserve old traditions, make new memories, and share with like minded company ... people who
understand why you keep coming back.
Because in the end, the best deer camps aren't remembered just for how many deer were killed there.
They're remembered for “Where Strangers May Meet and Leave as Life Long
Friends.
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