Ze Men at Ze Campfire
By Steven Anderson Law
I was reared in southern Iowa, just a few miles from the Missouri state line, an area abundant with all sorts of wildlife. My dad was an avid pheasant and quail hunter, and raised registered Brittany Spaniels trained for bird hunting. I was in my early teens before we started hunting other game, such as ducks and geese, and ultimately deer.
Deer hunting in Iowa is a little different than other states because we have to use shotguns with slug loads. The shotgun slug is as deadly as any other chunk of lead, but as I used to say, it’s like hunting with a high-powered sling shot. Regardless, I killed my first deer with a shotgun slug, and it wasn’t long before the buck fever took a hold of me.
Being that Missouri wasn’t too far away, and all my family lived there, we visited frequently. When it came to hunting, Missouri seemed like another world: the world of the high powered rifle. I remember many days suffering from frozen toes hunting coyotes with my grandfather, or raccoons with my uncles. No one in my family deer hunted, but the interest took hold in the late 1980’s when my family and I moved to Kansas City and became Missouri residents.
I borrowed a Model 94 Winchester (.30-30) from my uncle, and went on my first Missouri deer hunt on family land. My dad already had a .270 Remington, equipped with a scope, so we were both well set. My dad talked his brothers and a few of my cousins into joining us, and little did we know we were to begin an event that would forever addict us to the sport of deer hunting: the annual gathering of deer camp.
Each year when I arrive at deer camp, I am more amazed at how much things have changed since it all began back in the late 80s. Then all we had was a very small cabin and an outhouse, no heat, electricity or running water, and everyone congregated around the campfire.
I’ll never forget how cold it was trying to sleep on the floor of the unheated cabin, and how much of a task it was to cook a simple meal. One year I realized that it would be warmer to sleep outside next to the campfire than it would in the unheated cabin. Ironically that year it had snowed quite a bit, and snow was all around me, but I cleaned a spot next to the fire and I was much warmer.
Also, back then, it was just a few family members that gathered. Maybe ten or twelve of us. Today there’s as many as thirty, some friends of family members or friends of friends. Today, twenty years later, our cabin has doubled in size, with sleeping bunks, propane heat, electricity and running water. We also have a new and rather large metal barn, with sleeping quarters, a shower and toilet, a kitchen and a congregating room built in half of it. It has a TV with satellite connection, DVD player, pool table and electronic dart board.
Things have also changed drastically in the field.
Being severely farsighted, and usually hunting inside a timber, I still hunt with the .30-30 and don’t use a scope. But that doesn’t mean I don’t buy in to all of the tricks. I have a set of rattling antlers, a buck grunt and growl call, a doe in estrus bleat call, and a scent drag that drags both buck urine and doe estrus. Honestly, I don’t know how well it works, but it is fun to do.
Even more fun is bow hunting. I haven’t bow hunted long, but once I discovered it, I was hooked. Anyone can shoot a deer out of a stand with a rifle. Bow hunting requires more of a cunning skill and more patience. It is a more intimate time in the outdoors, getting up close and personal with the deer. Even if I don’t see that prize buck, quite often I will sit for hours and watch yearlings, does and spike bucks forage around my stand.
One time, for almost thirty minutes, I watched a really handsome spike buck rub his antlers and gland on a sapling. I literally could have spit on him he was so close to me. A hunter only interested in the kill wouldn’t appreciate that moment, but a hunter who also loves and respects nature, appreciates getting that close to an animal that knows no other enemy more dangerous than man.
Getting an antlered buck that close, however, is a greater challenge. He’ll wander into the general area, attracted by all the tricks of the game, but getting him at a shooting distance requires a good mixture of patience and luck. He hears that doe bleat and buck grunt, but he doesn’t see it.
I am a believer in human scent reduction when deer hunting. In bow hunting it is crucial, and I don’t think anyone can be overly eccentric in making sure their clothes are kept in a scent free environment, or that their body is free from natural human scents. I keep my clothes in a plastic bag, after having washed them in scent free detergent. I use scent free underarm deodorant, shampoo and soap, and I get dressed outdoors.
I don’t cook bacon or any fried foods for breakfast, nor do I make hot coffee. I avoid campfires in the a.m., and if I’m near a campfire in the p.m., I certainly don’t have my hunting clothes anywhere near it. Deer camp isn’t deer camp without a campfire, but it certainly can be counterproductive when it comes to getting that deer to lick estrus off your toes.
Now scent reduction during gun season is not a bad idea, but I don’t think it’s as imperative as during bow season. In fact, this year during rifle season I climbed into the stand on opening day with a cup of steaming hot coffee. Thirty minutes later, 60 yards away, I shot a nine point buck. I have family members who smoke in the stand, and still bag nice bucks with envious racks.
Another plus, which has changed considerably for us over the years, is how we retrieve our downed deer. In the beginning, we had each other and a lot of strong backs. But gradually over the years we introduced two-wheel drive ATVs, four-wheel drive ATVs, and now the four-wheel drive utility vehicle, such as my dad’s John Deere Gator. It’s awesome to see all the big four-wheel drive pickups pull in to camp with their trailers toting these vehicles. And deer retrieval has never been so sophisticated.
All in all, the hunt is a lot of fun, but when I go to deer camp I look forward to one thing the most, and that’s seeing my uncles and cousins. The way our faces light up when we first see each other, exchange those manly hugs and start catching up from where we last left off, is to me the highlight of the gathering.
Sure, there’s the eventual deer slaughter that takes place. The recaps of how so and so first saw his deer and gunned it down. The trip to town to check in the deer and look over what others had brought in. It’s the hunter’s dream land, for those that live and sleep hunting.
But when I’m out hunting, my thoughts are not always as driven towards the trophy buck as the others. I’m more intrigued by nature itself, and at times find myself drifting into thoughts of my work, or something else in my life of more importance. But when that buck does come near, it’s a special moment that I try not to take for granted.
It’s when I’m back at the campfire at night that I truly draw the added satisfaction out of deer camp. The stories, good and bad jokes, sharing of ideas or just simply harassing each other for fun, is a memorable time each year.
I remember one time in particular, in the early 80’s, when we were all gathered around the campfire and my dad asked me to write something about that year’s camp. I told him then that I wouldn’t know what to write.
A friend of our family that was visiting camp that year had brought with him a German foreign exchange student that he was hosting. I can’t remember the student’s name, but I certainly will not forget how observant he was to this bit of American culture called “deer camp” that was taking place.
I’ll not forget the look in his eyes when my uncle and I tore the hide off of a deer, cut the back strap out and within minutes had small pieces of meat battered and deep-frying in oil. And the fearful expression on his face was even more memorable when he gingerly bit into his first piece of venison.
Later at the campfire the student paid close attention to all our conversations, and responded to my dad’s writing request by saying, "You can title it 'Ze Men at Ze Campfire.'"
We were all quite amused by his idea, as well as his German accent. But the truth is, outside of all the hunting action, and stories that went along with it, he understood, for us, what the gathering was all about. It’s about the bonds of blood and the camaraderie between us.
Though deer camp has experienced a lot of changes in our accommodations, one thing that never changes is the revival of our family bond. I live in southeast Kansas now, near the Oklahoma border, and if it wasn’t for that reunion I would find deer to hunt closer to home. The hunting is great, but it’s “ze men at ze campfire” that makes it all worth while.
Steven Anderson Law is founder of the ReadWest Network (www.readwest.com), editor for Goldminds Publishing, and the author of the novels Rodeo Summer, and The Legend of Old Blue. In the year 2000, he was presented with the Spur Award from the Western Writers of America, as the publisher of that year’s winner in the short fiction category. Steven is an avid deer hunter, and he spends every season hunting on his family ranch in northern Missouri.