Tales from deer camp

I will confess, up until a few years ago I knew little about them other than what I’d heard from other hunters. I was always intrigued, as sometimes the stories that came out of them were more interesting than the hunts themselves.

A classic story involving two local gentlemen who shall remain nameless concerns the time they showed up at camp with a new pop-up trailer, which has two wheels in the center and a section that “pops up” in the middle for the living quarters with two mattresses and a tent like structure above them at each end. The trailer ends are supported by jacks.

The two hunters went to bed early one night while everyone else was having communion around the campfire. It would seem one of the jacks “mysteriously” collapsed, and the whole thing tipped like a teeter-totter and ejected the heavier man out of his side. With no weight now on his side it teeter-tottered back over and ejected the lighter hunter out of the other side. Guys who witnessed it still can’t tell the story without crying. I’m not saying the malfunctioning jack had any “help,” but It’s my understanding there were a fair number of adult beverages consumed earlier in the evening. The fact that this deer camp ended without a single kill seemed to do little to dampen the enthusiasm of those lucky enough to be involved, who still speak of the sacred event in hushed tones today.

The local group I hunt with are on again off again hunters, all young and very busy with work and family. We’ve been on our current lease for 6 years and had talked about doing a camp, and this year seemed perfect as two of the boys were now old enough to hunt. I also wanted to bring my grandson Benjamin along to experience it. This would be his first time to spend a night in the woods with his “Dadoo.”

I had bought a two-man tent and an air mattress the month before. My only goal was to make sure Ben got to see a deer from the blind, and we would only get one crack at it since his adventure would be cut short due to a spur of the moment trip planned by his family to Branson the next afternoon. He took to the experience like a duck to water, eating inch thick pork chops grilled over the fire, and played with the other boys in camp. Like us, he was captivated by the campfire, and drifted off to sleep watching it under the starlit sky. I carried him to the tent for a restful night of sleep awash in the nocturnal sounds of the woods.

We were in the blind shortly after first light, and Ben did his best to keep himself occupied by looking through my binoculars and munching on the snacks we’d brought. His sense of hearing was far superior to mine, and it was fun hearing his whispered comments about what he thought he’d heard. Lions, Tigers, and Bears indeed! Just when he thought he couldn’t sit any longer, I spotted a doe cautiously

weaving her way through the woods. I shook his shoulder and pointed at her. She was only 20 feet away but knew something was amiss and was on high alert. Finally, she blew and took off in the opposite direction, I suspect having heard our whispering. It was then I noticed a small buck in tow as it sprinted after her. It was the perfect ending to Ben’s first deer camp, and after a hearty breakfast and trading stories with the other hunters we reluctantly sent him on his way to Branson.

The next morning, I decided to hunt a new spot. It was an area where several sections of timber converged that followed a dry creek bed. The prior year there were 2 times I’d seen a buck following a doe along it but did not get a chance to hunt it. Since I did not have a blind or a stand there, I carried a folding chair and some camo netting to construct a quick ground blind. I checked the wind and did just that, arriving at first light. My plan played out to perfection when two hours later a doe sprinted through with buck hot on her hooves.

I grunted him to a stop and put the scope on him. He was a wild looking 9 point I’d named Medusa that I’d gotten on camera several times, probably a 2.5-year-old. I held on him for 10 seconds before lowering the gun, and watched him chase the doe across a pasture that I hoped might put him in front of our younger hunters. 30 minutes later, 15-year-old Myles Hall shot him from the tent blind that Ben and I hunted from the previous morning.

Myles had hunted hard for two days and not seen a deer. We had discussed where he might go the next morning for his best chance and narrowed it down to this spot. It was exactly 7 years to the day after he’d killed his first buck which was a spike. He could not have been happier with the upgrade, nor could the rest of the camp. It was a great way to end it!