Tales from the deer camp

The second deer camp I attended was one that initially started out in a cramped FEMA trailer and has morphed into a full-blown cabin with all the amenities as well as a bunk house for extra invitees. This was a very diverse group ranging in age from a 7-year-old girl to a grizzled old deer hunting veteran of 62 years who just happened to be me! (Wait, how have I become the old guy?) Entrepreneurs, attorneys, insurance agents, oil field workers, noble servants one and all; we’re all here to do the same thing. Hunt hard, eat well, and have a great time doing it! I did not hear one comment about politics or other such foolishness the entire 4 days of camp, as it should be.

The ranch is owned by Donnie and Cheryl Wooley and is the old home site from Cheryl’s family. It’s a stunning piece of property that’s 20 miles west of Lake Eufaula, with an endless sea of post oak trees on rugged rolling hills dotted with ponds and creeks. It’s some of the prettiest land I’ve seen in Oklahoma.

The first year we hunted it Donnie showed me the old house, complete with holes in the roof and boards missing from the floor. It was apparent there had been several critters calling it home. Over the years the Wooley’s have made numerous updates and improvements including a bunk house in back, a large metal garage for farm equipment and ATVs, and an allwood interior reminiscent of a fine hunting lodge complete with deer and duck mounts and the ubiquitous antler chandeliers. Of course, a full kitchen and bathroom are also part of the package. It was a far cry from the FEMA trailer we’d used all those years ago!

Donnie manages the property year-round with feeders and green fields providing a great variety of food sources for the local whitetails. Prime hunting spots have been carefully selected, with an assortment of elevated box blinds and tree stands. There are game cameras all over the property, and the results have been impressive with the bucks growing larger each year, and a few that would probably be knocking of the door of a Boone and Crocket certification, a whitetail hunter’s highest honor. Two years ago, I took a terrific 8 point off it that had a huge body, and Donnie’s family members have harvested bucks up to 11 points and over 130 inches of antler. No one had killed a whitetail with a bow, however, and that was to be my goal this year. I was also looking forward to rifle hunting in this scenic location with the endless rolling hills at times offering shots out to 300 yards. Donnie’s grandson Rylan had set the bar high early in the rut with a 140 class 10 point that would be tough to beat!

The first day resulted in no deer sightings for me, but our 10-year-old hunter Parker killed his first deer with a rifle, a doe. I hunted in what is known as the Mountain Stand the second morning, a scenic spot that overlooks a large green field with heavy timber around its edges, and a lane along a ridge that slopes down to a valley. Having hunted it before, I knew the deer could come out anywhere, and just at first light a 4-point buck stepped into the lane 41 yards away next to a feeder. I enjoyed watching him, but he was not what I was after.

About 15 minutes later I spotted a flash of white and brown over the ridge and realized a large group of does were slowly working their way to the lane on the edge of the ridge. It was an awesome sight, as they did not follow each other in a line like the deer seem to do here, instead spreading out and choosing separate paths to reach their destination. It occurred to me that this might be a better way to detect a predator. It took them probably 5 minutes to make it to the lane, and they stepped out next to the 4 point and began grazing away. Although I’ve occasionally taken bow shots of 40 yards, they have always been at a larger bodied buck, and I did not want to risk injuring a doe and having her run back over the ridge and possibly disappear. I wanted a bow shot of 30 yards or less, so I let these go on their way.

The 4-point came back several times over the course of the day, but that was it. Later that day I formulated a plan to hopefully harvest one of the does, by turning my chair at the perfect angle to shoot out of the window of the elevated box blind but be able to lean inside when I drew back the bow so the deer would not see me. When I leaned back toward the window, I’d be ready to let the arrow fly. I found a tree beside the lane that was at 31 yards. My plan was to sprinkle some corn on the ground at that spot and hope one of the does would see it the following morning and bypass the feeder.

I cooked up 8 pounds of venison chili for the camp dinner that night, and shared my plan with my fellow hunters as we sat around the campfire. It was met with some skepticism, but everyone agreed it was worth a try. Cigars and beverages were consumed under the stars with many colorful stories told, at least half of which were true. We all turned in early for what we knew would be a very early morning the next day.

I wanted to be in my blind at least 45 minutes before sunrise to make sure the deer did not detect me when I walked in. I didn’t even turn on my flashlight. Sunrise arrived, and I admired the view over the ridge that stretched for miles, with a light fog in the air contrasting against the colorful Fall foliage, all the while watching for that telltale flash of white and brown. I thought the 4-point would show again, but he didn’t.

If the does were coming, they were running behind. I only opened the window toward the lane in the blind so as not to risk the deer winding me should they get close. At 8:00 am, I finally saw a flash of white, and raised my binocular. It was a group of 3 does heading my way. They again stepped out about 40 yards away next to the feeder and showed no inclination to move closer.

Ten minutes later about 50 yards behind them another group of 3 does stepped into the lane and continued across it, disappearing into the woods on the other side. I was confident they would work their way back toward the first 3

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does, and that’s exactly what they did. The first two stepped out by the feeder at 40 yards and ran the others off. They were still too far away, but I knew I had one more coming. She finally stepped out at….30 yards. She had seen the corn! I leaned away from the window and drew my bow, then slowly leaned back into it and let the arrow fly. She went straight down without taking a single step. My plan had worked!

A short time later I heard the crack of a rifle off in the distance and suspected someone else would show up back at camp with venison. Joe Redmon had killed a very respectable 8-point that was following 3 does that morning. I arrived back at the ranch, and we quartered up and cleaned the two deer, with Joe happily doing most of the work. I was not about to complain. That’s one advantage of being a senior in deer camp!

Later that day I was ready for a change, so I switched to rifle and asked about places on the ranch that had been lightly hunted where I could reach out and touch one if the need arose. Donnie told me about a place a mile further down the road where they had cleared out an area in a flat spot part way down a ridge and planted things that would attract the deer. No corn feeders, but the camera they mounted next to the field had captured some impressive bucks. No one had hunted it as they had yet to put up a stand. It was exactly what I was looking for.

I love hunting with a rifle by finding promising new spots and simply getting behind some natural cover while sitting in a chair, much like our granddads did back in the day. Donnie’s son Zach dropped me off that afternoon with plans to pick me back up shortly after dark. The view was stunning, and I was able to place my chair behind several of the post oaks to hide behind. I had a pond to my left in the woods, and the field stretched out in front of me 100 yards. The deer could literally step out anywhere. As the afternoon slipped by, I felt my eyelids becoming heavy and drifted off to sleep. I don’t know how much time went by, but when I opened my eyes, I saw a large bodied deer in the middle of the field. It was a doe, and she was headed right for me. I had no plans to shoot another doe, so I just sat still and enjoyed the show. She walked up to the edge of the tree line just 15 feet in front of me, and thanks to a perfect wind had no clue I was there.

I held up one arm like I had a bow in it just to see if she’d see me. She did not and continued down the tree line giving me several super-easy bow shots, then changed her mind, turned around, and came right back by me again. She was headed to the pond for a drink. I had to chuckle. All the plans and preparation I’d made to harvest a doe on the morning hunt, and here I could have easily accomplished the same if I’d have just brought my bow and had a 5-yard shot instead of 30. That’s just deer hunting!

Everyone got a kick out of my story around the fire that night, and we were treated to a wonderful Cajun dinner with Axis deer meatball stew and Dutch oven corn bread cooked over the campfire. I slowly savored every bite! While listening to the laughter of my friends and looking at the stars above, it occurred to me that life doesn’t get much better than this. As our deer camp came to an end, I reflected on the doe I had killed with my bow. As exciting as that was, it was exceeded by the great time I had around the campfire with friends both old and new. Perhaps Donnie Wooley said it best. “The company and memories made were the real trophies of the season.”