This is a deer camp story. It’s is about how time and tide transformed The Founders into Five Grumpy Old Men.

They weren’t always old men. And they weren’t always grumpy. Perhaps it is best to start at the beginning. Friends for years, The Founders were first brought together as young men who shared a common passion: deer hunting. Every fall without fail, since 1967, they have shared a remote hunting camp for a week. In keeping with tradition, these men hunt deer, play cards, consume adult beverages, eat very well and laugh a lot.

In the beginning, everything was secondary to the hunt. Foul weather or fair, these young men were in the woods at daybreak and stayed until last light. Neither bitter cold nor rain-sodden days dampened the ardor for the hunt. And strong drink or late night poker games did not delay the 4 a.m. wake-up call and the sweet smell of bacon frying in the iron skillet on the Clarion.

In those days, these fellows killed deer, too. Coyotes were a rarity then, and there was plenty of wintering habitat that allowed deer to get through even the meanest winter. But somewhere along the way, subtle changes took place at camp, as well as in the woods. Friendships deepened, but hunter effort slacked some as time passed and deer numbers declined. Each noticed the change in the late 1990s, about the time their sons began to share the same camp and the week long deer hunt.

The Founders began to do what you might expect from middle-aged men. They cut back on their morning egg consumption and evening alcohol intake. Many quit smoking. Some left the wee-hour poker games for an early turn in, or avoided the game altogether. Three of the Founders developed a habit of coming out of the woods and returning to camp by lunchtime. Worse than that, a couple of the less passionate hunters were caught heading into the woods at first light, doing a quick hike up the ridge behind camp, and then sneaking back and climbing into a still-warm sleeping bag.

Fast forward. The Founders hunting camp, November, 2008, 40 years later. A week of unrelenting gale-force winds and bitter cold. It is the kind of weather that dampens the spirit of even the most die-hard hunter. For The Founders, it is a no-brainer: Hunker down at camp. “To hell with the deer, my mother didn’t raise no fool,” says one, reaching for a refill of hot coffee. “Let the young bucks beat the woods and freeze their butts off.”

So there they are. For the first time in 40 years, The Founders are weathered in, stuck at camp, not for just a day, but for the duration. They will just have to find things to do. And they do. For the first day, cribbage, dish duty, wood box filling, reading and napping make the time fly by.

Now, as luck would have it, The Founders all have deer camp nicknames. So their story can be told to you forthrightly without revealing identities, creating personal embarrassment, or holding anyone up to slander or ridicule.

By day five, the uneven wood heat, the wailing wind against the windows and the inactivity has taken its toll. The Founders have completed their transformational ride from spirited, dauntless, in-their-prime deer hunters to simply Five Grumpy Old Men. “Choo Choo,” who gave up cigars and strong drink years ago, falls off the wagon. His camp mates ride him hard, for losing his self-discipline. “Killer,” a retired Army colonel, begins to issue unwelcome directives about tidying up camp. “Bilgepump” and “Deliteful,” both of whom fancy themselves as gourmet cooks, annoy one another as the week wears on by second guessing each other’s culinary creations. “Thumb” drives a second-generation campmate out the door in a hissy fit after censuring the younger man’s compulsion to fry up a whole bag of onions at lunchtime.

Late in the afternoon on the final day of the hunt, the sons return to camp deerless after a long day in the cold, wind-battered woods. They discover five snoring fathers in various stages of slumber. To the slumbering five they say, “What’s going on here? Didn’t you guys hunt? This looks more like a resident care facility for aged men than a deer camp!”

The Five Grumpy Old Men give it back to the “young bucks” in words and looks. The kicker includes an oft-repeated reminder that the old guys “put a lot more game on the pole in their day.” But, as the tired young men begin busying themselves with boot removal and gear stowage, the older men look at each with a smile. They are knowing smiles that speak to deep friendships that only come from years at deer camp.

One of the Grumpy Old Men closes his eyes. His thoughts are thankful thoughts, and they mingle with a sense of expectation about next year’s week in the woods with his sons, and with the best friends a man can have.

V. Paul Reynolds is editor of the Northwoods Sporting Journal. 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, WCME-FM 96.7) and former information officer for the Maine Dept. of Fish and Wildlife. His e-mail address is [email protected].