Deer hunting hasn’t changed since I wrote this Nov. 16, 1988.
Ah, it’s time for the annual sleep in the woods. Yes, plural, a.m. and p.m. for two days.
It’s the culmination of 363 days of longing for two days of deer hunting. Planning gets started about Labor Day. It begins with, ‘Are you going up this year?? ‘What day are you leaving?? and doesn’t end.
Somewhere around the middle of September our deer camp number climbs to 12, minimum. My son planned to be the first in camp, arriving about November 10. His envious peers started scratching and squinting trying to figure a way to get more time off work and earlier permission from their Mrs.
‘You know, honey there’s wood to be cut, blinds to be built, swaths to be widened, probably snow to be shoveled and surely bull to be thrown.?
I figure my buddy Pansy and I could get away (he could leave in June) November 11. ‘You know honey, there’s food to be bought and meals to plan, water to be softened (we use big hammers) toasts to prepare, buck poles to be cut, deer census to be taken and rules of conduct to be spelled out for these young whippersnappers.?
The Davidson trio, Greg, Jeff and Tim, would be in camp early enough to defend their straw and can monument construction championship at The Cove. Jeff has held the title two years and the locals have been practicing what they can remember of his technique since last November.
No trouble getting the Offer brothers, Tom and Bob, in camp early. ‘You know honey, we’re the steadying influence, without us those guys would be lost in the woods, leave in the morning without paper, have no one to do dishes, or bring in the firewood, or shovel the roof or iron the curtains.?
Now we jump to November 1. And, the real, ‘you know, honey,? speaks up. Oh, did I promise to take you there Saturday night? I’ll be picking up Pansy November 13 after a short night’s sleep.
Oh, oh! I’ve got to work that weekend, said one. My wife’s got to be out of town for two weeks, said another. My company’s into the final stages of a buy-out, was another excuse, and Tom Offer tore his knee and wouldn’t be able to get to the bathroom door, let alone find we who are lost in The Cove, or the woods, whichever happens.
He won’t even be there to play Da Yuppers tape, ‘The Second Week of Deer Camp? 1,254 times.
The dozen of September is down to six for sure . . . maybe.
The planned sleep in the woods is by no means certain either. The day may not be sunny and cool. The pine bough I bend down to lay on may not be dry and inviting.
But, you know, honey, it doesn’t matter. Six or sixteen in camp, rain or shine, sardines or sirloin, see deer or don’t, a good time will be had by all who attend.
This is DEER SEASON!
Back to the present. Little has changed. The promised full camp is now six for sure. Maybe. Unchanged is the sleep in the woods. Give us some sun after our cook-out lunch and we’ll show you how to enjoy deer hunting.