One reason for no hunting stories is there are no stories. I went to MY land and carefully snuck in so I wouldnt move deer to someone else. I stood in a stand for three days and shot a deer that came to my baitpile. The end. So much hunting has become about the gear, my land and ME the stories have died. Sorry for my early AM cynicism!!!
Leave out the baitpile, and you pretty much have my hunting season. I am not going to argue that after 13 years it could all run together, but a good part of why I write is to keep it from doing so. 13 years on the same land can be a bore, but it also open up possibilities.
For instance, I am now hunting the great-great-great grand kids of the deer I first hunted in 2001. Over time, you begin to see patterns. I grew up the son of an apartment landlord. The idea of hunting and eating the tenants and their progeny with impunity is something my father could only dream of. I am living that dream.
There was raising the kids. The whole idea of getting this place was so that the kids would not grow up as suburban mall rats. I have succeeded. My youngest is hunting as an adult for the first time this year. I now have a grandchild coming on line. I am already planning her yute gun.
Most important to me, has been the evolution of our deer camp. It isn't about just hunting. All my old hunting buddies died off 30 years ago, and I set out to start over and make my own camp, filled with my own progeny. It took 30 years and two wives, but I got there. My stories are the pay-off.
As to the style of hunting you describe, I could not agree more. Things change. I hunt in an extremely . . .
. . . oops gotta run. More later.
