ORIGINAL: HuntinGUS
Metro posted something on another thread that inspired me if you will. I see alot of talk about how much a deer scores, shoot or not to shoot, loet him go so he can grow etc, etc, ect, That is fine for those who hunt for these reasons, but I hunt for a different reason and list below are what I enjoy most about my hunting experiences.
The preparation through the summer in anticipation of that fist crisp day when the leaves start to show shades of orange and red.
The butterflies in my gut as the season approaches.
The drive to my "camp" where my brother, my dad and I all have met every fall for the past 20 years. The camp the we built, maintain and a place where I became best friends with my dad.
The old gate that keeps the road untraveled for most of the year and the big deep breath I take when I get out of my truck to unlock it. Peace? Therapy? Call it whatever you want, but it is a necessity in my life.
The camp sets behing some twenty twenty year old pines that we drove over when we laid the first block and drove the first nail. Those same pinse hide the camp and there branches now allow us to hang our deer in them.
The creek of the old front door and the familiar smell as I enter. On the wall are our stories, our bets won and our bets lost. There shadows cast a texture to the living room floos and walls. They are like old friends that remind us of days past and days to come.
The hum of the old cast iron wood burner. The crackle and poping as the woodbegins to provide warmth to my heart and to the camp.
The conversation and stories that are shared. The catching up that is done inside the camp walls and the building of family friendships and love and respect.
The long restless night prior to opening day and the awakening of the the old wind up clock and the smell of morning coffee.
The cool morning air and the sunrise that greets me and the woods. The shadows that play tricks on my eyes every year as the sun hits the trees and the branches.
The hunt is almost secondary and if an animal is taken.....it's a bonus. Hunting means so much more to me than just the size of the horns. Money and a 150 class buck will not compromise what I enjoy......
Just basic thought from a basic "hunter".....................
Seriously dude, have you been following me around?
This basically describes my camp and my feelings exactly!
I just wanted to add ...... there is no better feeling, than the excitement in the air as you walk into deer camp for the night before the opener. The wood fire burning, the familiar mustiness of the cabin, the laughs and shouts bouncing off the walls. The retelling of old stories for the 20th year in a row. The polaroid camera flashing, as we take the annual opening night pictures. The way that cigerette & cigar smoke actually smells good, compared to bars. And then as midnight passes, the slow trickle of hunters shuffling off to bed for a fitfull and unrewarding nights sleep. (Gawd!, I am so pumped ALREADY!!!!!)
on a side note:
My step-father introduced me to hunting and my hunting group, back in 1982. At the time, I was the youngest hunter in camp by many years. I took a lot of ribbing because I was a precocious little city kid, who was always wanting to learn, and always asking questions.
Over the years, I have grown into a good hunter, and I now enjoy helping the younger hunters learn. My step-dad was never a good or interested deer hunter, BIRDS were his game, but he loved the hunting camp, and so he would always deer hunt, even if it meant coming in early each day to be the camp cook.
When he suddenly died, nearly a decade ago, I took it upon myself to really try and spend as much time with my little brother hunting as possible. Taught him all I knew, gave him hunting books and D & DH subscriptions, and provided transport to and from the hunting camp for years. Today my brother is of course a better hunter than me, with more and bigger bucks to his credit.
Also, following my step-dad's death, I realized even more how important my hunting camp and my hunting buddies were to me. They are my family, we laugh, we yell, we fight, and sometimes when talking about the members that have passed on, we cry.
I am never as happy as I am during the gun season up at camp with the whole crew together.
So a shout of thanks to my late step-dad Tom "the Tramp", I can't imagine a better gift, than awakening in me the love of the hunt.