Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Deer Hunting Diary of a deer camp

Some are attracted to exotic pets until they become inconvenient, and then perhaps there are some that have motives.

Naturally existing in the wild and escaping into the wild-or being purposefully placed there-are obviously different.

lions range a long ways. could be if the state publicly says that yes there are lions in the state, they then have to "manage" them. no hunting seasons obviously, but studies and management plans have to be done, at quite an expense too. even if there are no resident populations and never will be. somethings are better left as it is. just my opinion.

Makes sense.

GA DNR came out and investigated, took blood and tissue samples of that cougar. They issued a statement that the animal's was in such great health and parasite free, that it HAD to have been a released illegal pet. That had been their story for over decade everytime someone reported spotting one. Then USFWS took the samples and did DNA. The cougar was a "panther", as in Florida panther. DNR, when forced to admit so, stated that their MIGHT be wild cougars/panthers/mountain lions in GA, and asked the public to refrain from shooting them. The guy was never prosecuted because, under GA law, an escaped non-native animal, be it an elk, emu, or lion, is legal to kill if you are legally hunting.

Thanks Scott.

I've showed it at work, and some can't put it together. This should do it.

I know it's been discussed before here, but no trip to deer camp is ever complete without a run over to Grice's Gun Shop in Clearfield. The weekend before the opener it's like a zoo over there. Parking is a relative term, and is done where ever you can find it. It's a good sized shop with a lot of used and new guns and supplies. The atmosphere is one of optimism as all the guys are chomping at the bit to hit the woods on Monday morning. The old knife guy is always set up out in the parking lot sharpening all the hunting blades. The line at the counters are long, but no one seems to mind. I'm sure this same scene is repeated in hundreds of little gun shops in all the little mountain towns throughout the state. It truly is a great time to be a hunter.

The day or weekend before isn't my favorite time to be in those shops. I try to have my gear ready befor then, but there's always something a guy needs. I usually head to fleet farm or capra's. The stores are abuzz with optimizim, coffee, and BS.

It's truly a great time of year, no matter the camp.

I long for the time of year but do not share your enthusiasm for visiting any of these places days, weeks or even months prior to hunting season. That's what this time of the year is for.

With Grices, it really doesn't matter if you're a day, week or several months ahead, it's usually busy. That said, I made one trip over there a few years back because I discovered my rain pants were now fit for church,(ie, holey) and didn't think the crowd was bad at all. I've seen worse, especially for the shooters sale.

Can't recall seeing the knife guy either but I wouldn't have been looking for him, I sharpen my own.

Dale

Wow, what a thread!
Growing up in PA going to camp with no electricity, outhouse, Coleman lanterns, and a cold running spring was living large!

Centre and Lycoming county line, camp founded by my dad's uncles before the depression using the old barn (and not a large one!). Farmland in that time cleared by German settlers that has now returned to deep pine forest with buck laurel the size of buses. Rock wall fences from old fields filled with tall trees so close you can't walk but the deer hide in there all the time.

Deer season after turkey day was the drive north through snow to a old building in the woods up a narrow lane after 20 miles on a dirt road, filled with 50 guys, two PA deer rosters full on the door, all kinds of cars/old two wheel drive cars with chains on the wheels in the snow, deeps snow, wicked cold, a big rack of classic lever actions, bolt action win 70's, and old military conversions. Potbelly stove heated up, propane fridges going, and a picnic table to fit 25 in the main area. Old overstuffed old Victorian sofas around the pot belly, card games, welcome hand shakes of guys way older than me, my dad, my grandfather, my cousins, and uncles making sure I was ok. Bunks up stairs for fifty guys. Food, card games at the tables, stories, and activity.

Sunday night dinner was family style usually cooked by an Italian guy who started with a homemade lettuce salad and this great pasta with a sauce that tasted different than home with fresh crusty bread. And this odd looking deep purple wine in the water glasses. Table discussion was who was going where for Monday, sitting or stand day, there were no ladder stands like now in the state forest surrounding us. My dad would say what spot we would take and everyone had a favorite. After the youth cleaned up the dishes the card games started, playing blitz, hasten pepper (trump like PA Dutch game), and some poker.

Early up, 4am, guys bumping in, finding gear, making sandwiches (best was ham cut from a fresh cooked foil covered on a fresh piece of bread) getting coffee from a huge boil pot on the stove, and getting into your woolrich checkers. There weren't many deer those days running around but a few were dragged in through the snow. It got dark fast and usually snowed even more.

The next day was 25 man drives. The older guys posted. The rest of us drove for the top of a mountain to the crick at the bottom with the posters adding in on the sides. If you were lucky you got to post on one of the last drives. Whatever would go in the snow dropped you off at the top of the mountain or as far up as it could make it for the drive. The deer would launch out of the buck laurel and never be seen by the posters and the drivers could not shoot into the posters because of the straight line to the posters. Sometimes all we had was a cut walking stick so we could not shoot. Still snow up to your knees or more.

At dinner you were falling asleep in your plate after a few bites of hot food and warming up. The old guys stayed the week. You posted a few drives as the crowd thinned out. The guys gave you pointers on where to go and what to do.

Being with my uncles, grandfather, cousins, and their life long buddies was a life experience never to be forgotten. The pranks (deer skins and deer heads in sleeping bags), fake snakes in sleeping bags, and guys at deer camp were priceless.

Another great story on the rich history that is a Pennsylvania deer camp. We don't see too many big drives any more. The camp crews are smaller. Several factors come into play. Sadly, less guys are in the woods, and more of them choose to hunt closer to home and work. The first day of deer season used to be what amounted to an unofficial state holiday. Schools closed, factories experience very high absenteeism, or just closed up, as everyone marched into Penn's Woods for "the opener."

Nowadays, a ten man drive is a pretty big deal. Old traditions die very hard though, and for years to come, when the early November winds swing around and come out of the north, a stirring in men's souls will send them down to the man cave to sort through a mountain of gear, and prepare for the annual pilgrimage that is deer camp. A huge Thanksgiving dinner, a peck on the cheek from a doting wife, and it's off to the woods to renew the great tradition that is a Pennsylvania deer season.

Many of the guys are now gone. The fifty is now less than ten. Most of the deer hunting is just out of sight of the building.

One deer season, after a heavy snow, the clouds cleared late evening to a clear sky with a full moon. It was bright enough to walk around the forest and the trees cast long shadows on the snow. Amazing conditions. Have never seen it again.

Old firehouse ten burner gas stove with a double oven replaced an older gas stove. Two antique propane refrigerators would get icy cold. The hiss of Coleman lanterns, smell of the wood fire, cigarette smoke, and pipe smoke. No matter how cold it was outside the place was toasty warm. Always plenty of good food and extra goodies.

The noise from the upstairs bunks was a dull snore chorus. Most of us knew to get to sleep before the real snoring started from a few pros.

Great memories.

I remember always making it a point to get to sleep before Dad. He snored like a chainsaw. For a few years there, until I shot my first deer, I was pretty much the designated deer dragger for all the Old Guard. A kid could do a lot worse.

i remember being that guy as well, then again, i still am!! At 48yrs old, im still the youngest regular hunter at my camp. All of our kids are moved away (for work reasons), thats whats happening in our family as well as other families that i know. So the traditions are the first things that take a hit. My generation and older stayed around, and worked locally, now you cant find those jobs anymore.

We have a new tradition going on here in Pa and that is Grouse camp. Have a camp up in Marienville that 4-5 of us and 5-6 dogs rent out for a week. Nice place with electric, a wood burner and full blown kitchen. At $250 per week divided by 4-5 it is a bargain.

Should have taken pics last year, but it slipped by.

Our camp was up in Haneyville, PA. The bunk room upstairs would sleep up to 20, downstairs was a great room with a long dining table surrounded by cast off furniture and rifle racks. Electric lights, by God! Big chunk stove that heated the whole building. The kitchen was dominated by a big black gas-fired range/oven and sink/work station. No running water- hand pump out front, and an outhouse.

We would assess all members who hunted the first week (usually 10-12) an extra fee to buy groceries and pay the guy who came up to cook a couple hundred. (He took paid vacation from work, so what we gave him was just a healthy tip.) He would come up on Friday after Thanksgiving and spend Saturday and Sunday baking bread, cakes, and pies- no meals then, we were on our own for those days. Starting Sunday nights and going through the rest of the week he provided a gut-stuffing family style supper, plus have a full course gut-stuffing breakfast waiting for us when we tumbled down the steps at 4:00AM. Box lunches were provided for those who wanted them, too. My God, you could hunt hard all week in that rough country in the Tiadoughton forest, morning 'til dark, and go home at the end of the week weighing more than when you arrived in camp! He who shot the first deer was then entitled to fill the cook's tag.

Weekends before the opener were devoted to catching up with the guys you hadn't seen since last year, last minute sighting in, poker games, guitars and beer drinking. The beer got put away Sunday afternoon and kept away by common consent for the rest of the week. Heck, After hunting all day and a ferocious meal, you usually just wanted to climb into your bunk anyway! After you shot your buck, you were allowed to resume with the beer if you so chose. Didn't want any drunk/hungover guys walking around with loaded rifles.

One camp I went to hired a guy to cook that didn't hunt and it was money well spent. We did the dishes.

Sounds like your place was pretty coooool.

Yeah, I miss those days. It was the old "Three Point Deer-and-Bear" camp, just a long golf shot from the Fin-Fur_and Feather Trading Post. Built in 1928 on ground leased from the state (which by the archaic law back then-and now, I think- meant that only state residents could be members). When I moved back to Maryland 20+ years ago I had to relinquish my membership, which took the bloom off the lily so I lost interest in going back. Time then to make new adventures and memories. But, the years I was a member will be etched in my mind as THE way to spend deer season.

I used to take my dad up as a guest. He was a small to average size guy, but he loved to eat. One morning he over-stuffed himself at breakfast- just couldn't not eat piles of bacon, eggs, pancakes, scrapple, biscuits, etc. Halfway up the mountain, hiking/sweating in the dark to his "spot", he had to stop and up-chuck everything he'd just eaten. Continuing on to the top, he discovered he left the magazine for his rifle (Savage 340) setting on the windowsill back at camp. Luckily he had a handful of cartridges so he could hunt single shot.

Surprised no one mentioned the PA deer camp tradition of cutting off the shirt tail of the newbie who got buck fever and missed.

One of the old guys who was a charter member back in '28 was a doctor, and was only around a couple years when I first started going back in '80. We all showed up with down sleeping bags, scoped bolt actions, and duffle bags full of gear so as to mount an Everest expedition. He showed up with one wool blanket, Model 94 and ammo, knife and his Woolrich hunting suit. That was it. He had forgotten more about deer hunting than any of the rest of us ever knew. He was also the guy who performed an emergency appendectomy on the camp dining table back right before he shipped out to New Guinea as a field hospital surgeon in WWII. Stories about him are for another time!

Only one serious snoring incident at our camp and that was in the early 70s. Took a flatlander uncle along for the first week of buck one year and one year only.

Myself and another bud each slept on sofas against outside walls. Uncle and the other bud slept on folding cots in the center of the room. Me and the other sofa guy couldn't get to sleep with unc's snoring.

The guy on the cot next to him never lost a minute's sleep. But that little bastige could sleep thru an artillery barrage.

I wanted to tote unc outside in the snow. Sounded like a pair of McCulloughs idling all night. The following night I turned the radio on and let 'er play all night. That uncle could never figure out why I never invited him back to buck camp.