The old cabin is run-down, but solid. Built over time, primarily by scrap lumber hauled in with pickup trucks, this is home away from home in the fall. Carpenter bees have bored years’ worth of holes under the porch awning, but it shows no signs of going anywhere.
This is the true reward from a weekend at deer camp. Venison steaks, finely trimmed and chilling on ice. All but half a dozen of them will go in the freezer. As for the half dozen? They’ll be taking a sizzling bath in Lake Crisco tonight.
Lots of deer camps depend on nearby public land. This one’s no exception. With a small piece of private ground that borders thousands of acres of hard-hunted state forest, much of our hunting is done in the big timber. Occasionally, one of us will see a decent buck.
It seems there’s a moment every season when you look up and think, “Gee, all the leaves have fallen.” It’s anything but a gradual process, but it still seems to sneak up on you. When you see that, you know what’s coming next—the end of another deer season. No reason to get upset … it’ll be July again before you know it.
It could be argued that there's a lot of down time at deer camp. But truth be told, there's always something going on. If you're sitting on the front porch with a cup of coffee, you might as well be sharpening knives.