What is it about deer camps?

In my new book, A Maine Deer Hunter’s Logbook, there is a chapter that delves into the mystique and special attraction that all deer camps have for hunters. “Deer camps have always been special to me, as they are for most hunters. We may not take the time to reflect on just why these cabins in the woods hold a special place in our hearts, but we are subconsciously mindful of it just the same. A deer hunting group that I have belonged to for close to 40 years, the Skulkers of Seboeis, has had a number of deer camps over the years. In the early years, it was just us, a group of young men who shared a common passion: deer hunting. Today, our sons, the second generation, are Skulkers. This fall during our customary “work weekend,” when we cut wood and perform a general fix-up in preparation for the Big Week in November, a few prospective third generation Skulkers were on hand. These young boys, you can tell, can’t wait for the day when they, too, can settle in for a week at deer camp. And it won’t be long.”

Yes, what is it about deer camps? The march of time inspires us to ask these questions, and, as a writer, I have also learned that if you dig deep enough you will always find other writers with a surer pen, and a better facility to capture the true essence of a feeling. Outdoor writer Mel Ellis wrote this about his deer camp.

“Even before I cross the threshold I felt at peace with myself and the world. I literally could heave a great sigh as though a burden of physical proportions had been lifted from my back. That was the kind of camp it was, a place that shuts out the world and all the worry that goes with it. It stood in good deer country, but I am sure it would have been the same under the sun of the Sahara or within reach of high tide. This camp was 5-pound chunks of American Swiss and Cheddar cheese standing on the cutting board, beans browned with sugar and covered with salt pork waiting on the stove. It was rifles standing in a corner, red clothing steaming on chair backs, tiny streams of water running across the floor from boots by the door, gloves drying in an open oven. There was frost creeping up the windowpane, snow piling high around the woodpile, tracks up the trail sifting full and fading.”

Downeast fishing guide Randy Spencer, a deer hunter, too, writes thoughtfully about deer camp in his new book Where Cool Waters Flow: “The arrival of each hunter (to deer camp) to this annual summit is a jubilant, raucous affair. When all of us do finally arrive — some fatter, some thinner, some balder, some grayer, all older — we’re each a sight for sore eyes, and say so. Convening here marks the passage of another year, and very few stones in that year will be left unturned during the full-voiced, nightly banters to come.”

By the time you read this, I and some of my closest friends will be settled in at our deer camp for a week of hunting and good times. Most of my contemporaries, like me, have been making this annual November pilgrimage for close to 50 years! Imagine, a half century. What I find most incredible, if not downright inexplicable, is that my ardor for the hunt and a week at deer camp has not waned with age. I expected that it would, but it has not. The prospect of a week at deer camp still excites and sparks an inner joy for me, even after all these years.

If you are a novice deer hunter, or an old timer, who has yet to spend time at a deer camp, find yourself a Palace In the Popple, as poet John Madson called it.

“I tell you, boys, there’s no place else

Where I’d rather be, come fall.”

The author is editor of the Northwoods Sporting Journal and has wriiten his first book, A Maine Deer Hunter’s Logbook. He is also a Maine Guide, co-host of a weekly radio program “Maine Outdoors” heard Sundays at 7 p.m. on The Voice of Maine News-Talk Network (WVOM-FM 103.9, WQVM 101.3) and former information officer for the Maine Dept. of Fish and Wildlife. His e-mail address is [email protected].