Dad did most of the cooking in our camp. Not because he drew the short straw or anything like that. He was just a darned good cook. My brother took over the cooking duties and is legendary for his fish fry on the weekend prior to the opener. He fishes Lake Erie for jumbo perch and walleye all summer, and we get any where from 20 to 45 people visiting camp for "the fry". All the neighboring camps come-it's turned into quite the gathering.
The Sandy Township Volunteer Fire Department based in Sabula, Pa. always used to run a pancake breakfast on the Sunday prior to the opener as a fundraiser. They'd have the breakfast, and then they'd sell home made pies too. It was a great way to commune with the fellow hunters. Another popular festivity on the weekend prior to the opener was the annual pilgrimage to Grice's Gun Shop in Clearfield, Pa. If you were lucky, you'd find a parking spot within a block of the store, but don't dare miss this trip. 'Might put a hex on the whole hunt if you didn't show up there! The knife guy would be set up in the parking lot and I swear he could put a razor edge on a golf club if you asked him to.
One camp that I went to had a rule. Person with the first Buck in camp became the cook. People were hiding out on the edge of camp waiting for someone else to drag one in.
Good one!
Not a rule, but for many years when there were three or four of us at deer camp, first successful hunter coughed up a backstrap for supper. Quite a few years that was the same buddy and he never minded being the "goat".
Neither did the rest of us, since he sliced it into fillets, marinated them in Italian dressing a bit, then did them on the grill outside. Sure beat the hell outta leftover spaghetti or hot dogs? ;O)
If three or more people think you're a dimwit, chances are at least one of them is right.
Dad did most of the cooking in our camp. Not because he drew the short straw or anything like that. He was just a darned good cook. My brother took over the cooking duties and is legendary for his fish fry on the weekend prior to the opener. He fishes Lake Erie for jumbo perch and walleye all summer, and we get any where from 20 to 45 people visiting camp for "the fry". All the neighboring camps come-it's turned into quite the gathering.
This would be a hoot! Man...I need a deer camp
The deer hunter does not notice the mountains
"I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve" - Isoroku Yamamoto
There sure are a lot of America haters that want to live here...
at our camp now with the early archery season, and inline season, we have a rule that when someone shoots the first deer we can it or freeze it for all of our meals in the rifle season. it works out very well.
One camp that I went to had a rule. Person with the first Buck in camp became the cook. People were hiding out on the edge of camp waiting for someone else to drag one in.
I'll tell ya what... I could do mighty fine not setting foot in the woods. Just chillin and being the camp cook. It would suit me just fine. I'm more relaxed at camp than any other place in the world, so I'm cool with being the cook.
One camp that I went to had a rule. Person with the first Buck in camp became the cook. People were hiding out on the edge of camp waiting for someone else to drag one in.
I'll tell ya what... I could do mighty fine not setting foot in the woods. Just chillin and being the camp cook. It would suit me just fine. I'm more relaxed at camp than any other place in the world, so I'm cool with being the cook.
Back then they were a pretty roudy crew. The wood was the place to relax.
Remember when one of them took a chain saw to an old couch and then pitched the parts into the fireplace. Fire was blazing up the stone wall and it was a little smokey. Damn nice camp also.
Today things are different. Time has smoothed off most of the rough edges.
That camp was located on private ground that is pretty much surrounded by a State Forest and there are two other camps. The one being about a quarter mile away and the other further. Sits in the bottom of a big valley with 7 hollows feeding down to it.
One night during Deer season a big snow storm came in. Someone looked out and here came a fellow from the other camp dragging a Deer past camp in the dark. They went out and looked at his Deer then invited him in for a celebratory drink. Turns out he had way more than a couple and all were having a great time.
My Step Dad who was no young Buck decided to have a little fun, didn�t tell anyone, left camp and hid the fellows Buck that was out front and put it in the barn. People tracks were all over the yard so none could trace his track. What he didn�t know was that his Son had seen what he was doing. The rest of us were clueless.
Finally the fellow said he was going to head on out to his camp. But when he went out his Deer was gone. All went out looking around but no Deer was to be found. Finally the fellow got it into his mind that we got him in there, fed in drinks and then stole his Deer. It was getting to the point of yelling when my Step Dad said enough is enough and took the fellow to the barn to get his Deer. Thing was his son had went out and moved the Deer again without telling his Dad. When no Deer was to be found in the barn it got hot again. Finally my Step Brother ended the game and went out and drug the Deer out of the woods and into camp.
The guy didn�t believe they were just having fun and started to wobbly drag his Deer to his camp, all the while bitching. The guys decided he needed help so a couple went out, took the rope and made sure he and Deer made it safe back to camp.
Great stories! This is just the kind of stuff that makes deer camp special. There was a little camp down at the bottom of our hill that got pretty run down. The adjoining farm bought it cheap, and converted it to a horse shed. There had been an old moth eaten 8 point buck head mounted on the porch. When they turned the horses loose in that lot, they were spooked by that deer head and wouldn't go near it, so it ended up out on the roadside for the garbage man to pick up. Not wanting to pass up a chance for a perfectly good gag, our guys spirited it up the mountain and hung it out behind the neighbor's camp, looking like a buck peeking out from behind a tree. You could have started a lead mine with all the slugs they flung at that buck first morning. They had a pretty good idea who put it there, because it mysteriously showed up in our outhouse the next morning. Scared the crap out of one of our guys who was going out for his morning constitutional. In the end, a good laugh was had by all.
That camp was started back around 1916 by a bunch of young Bucks who where labors and a few went out on their own and made it big in home building and commercial construction. They also made a few of their friends wealthy on their coattails. Electricians, plumbers, roofing, heating, air conditioning, etc. They grew up in a time when they more or less made their own rules and did it their way. Eventually a few of them became connected in politics.
A local stream runs right past the camp about 100yards away. On their side they own it. On the other is State Forest. So they decided to build a real nice wooden bridge across the run. Problem was it ended on State land. There was also a designated State trail that came off the mountain down to the run. Hikers often would use the bridge and cross over onto their land and then back onto State land. They could care less and if any were in camp they were welcomed to dinner and friendship.
Problems arose when some gal who worked for the State found out about the tiny bridge. She got in touch with one of the members and told them they had to take it down. They tried to reason with her, but to no avail. Finally one day they came up to camp and it was cut down on the State side. No big deal they just rebuilt it.
Another phone call and this time they had a choice to either take it down or be levied a significant fine. The old Chiefs got together and called her back along with informing her it wouldn't be wise to pursue it further. She wouldn't back down. Then the phone calls went out to the politicians. She was transferred and the bridge is still there.
Another time a fellow left to go and use the outhouse. After a while someone asked where he went. They went looking and he was dead of a heart attack sitting on the john. The Chiefs again had a pow-wow and decided the camp didn't need and investigation into someone dying at camp during Deer season.
One of the members and his buds had all driven up together in a little motor home. Another of the members was an old time M.D. They all knew each other well along with the wives. So they tucked the dead member into the bed of the motor home and headed back home. Story was on the way home he wasn't feeling all that well and decided to lay down, and when they arrived home they found him dead. Doc ----- who is now gone on himself, signed the death certificate as apparent heart attack on the way home. He was buried and that was the end of it.
They were old-old school and their likes may never be seen again.
The camp back in the middle 70s along with two of the old Chiefs who are now gone.
The place looks different now in that it has been rebuilt, but one of the finest settings for a Pa Deer camp.
And when a member dies, the other members all go to the funeral. After the preacher is done the members all stand and sing "When the roll is called up younder." There are damn few dry eyes in the church.
Once you got close to I80 pancake breakfasts were common in many of the small fire halls. Good times.
Still are, my favorite is the one in Rockton. They serve family style on real plates with real utensils. Sykesville Lions club used to serve over 7000 meals the weekend before buck season. That's how they funded and built the 'town hall'. Numbers have dropped now that the Pittsburgh area hunters either stay home to hunt or don't travel 119 but they still do alright.
Knew a guy who had a camp on top of Boone Mountain, right at the head of PeteBuck Hollow, his favorite line was about the the buck that trotted through the yard, so he took two quick shots but the buck ran off before he could find his rifle and ammo.
Once you got close to I80 pancake breakfasts were common in many of the small fire halls. Good times.
Still are, my favorite is the one in Rockton. They serve family style on real plates with real utensils. Sykesville Lions club used to serve over 7000 meals the weekend before buck season. That's how they funded and built the 'town hall'. Numbers have dropped now that the Pittsburgh area hunters either stay home to hunt or don't travel 119 but they still do alright.
Knew a guy who had a camp on top of Boone Mountain, right at the head of PeteBuck Hollow, his favorite line was about the the buck that trotted through the yard, so he took two quick shots but the buck ran off before he could find his rifle and ammo.
Dale
Dale-I know Pete Buck Hollow well. I've hunted up there many times.
You ain't kidding about it being thick up there, man! I've had deer withing 20 yards of me up there that I've never even seen! They stick to that brush like glue! I always wanted to go back up there during ML season and see if I could sneak up on one in that thick schidt.
Need more diary stories. In a different camp with Dad and Uncle Herman before I was hatched.
Dad had a brand new pre 64 Model 70 and shoots a Deer with it. Unc really likes it and asks if he can use it the next day. No problem.
Unc takes it out a shoots another Deer. Delima was he forgot his drag rope. Necessity sits in and he uses the sling to drag the Deer. Delima number two was carrying the rifle. Solution: Stick the rifle in the Deers belly and make it back to camp.
Later on that evening Dad asks where is his rifle and Unc gets a [bleep] look on his face and goes outside. It is still in the Deers belly all frozen over with blood, fat and knowing how Unc gutted his Deer, probable a turd or two. He also dinged the barrel on a rock.
They remained the best of friends and hunted together until the end.
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