Deer camp is a world all to itself

NHSunday News ^ | 11/16/03 | JOHN HARRIGAN

[RJCogburn]

ON TUESDAY at the Kiwanis meeting, the day before deer season opens, I do an impression of a buck in the rut. I hook my “antlers” into people’s shoulders. I pretend to rub the scent glands on the insides of my legs. OK, this is a boorish guy thing.

I gather stuff for camp. I stuff the outdoor furnace with three days worth of wood and hit the road. Tuesday night, I arrive at deer camp on the shore of a big lake not yet frozen.

From within come light and laughter. A burst of warmth comes through the door, flung open in response to the headlights. The boys are all there, except for Donald, “And who cares about Donald anyway,” someone says uncharitably, the truth being Donald is a treasure, but such a thing is never admitted, especially in deer camp.

I think about the muzzleloader back on the workbench, a Thompson, made right here in New Hampshire. I’ve tagged two deer with that gun and it is as much a part of my life as my truck and the front porch.

It has a wonderful heft to it, ludicrously heavy but nonetheless satisfying to carry and a joy to shoot, in some ways a transport to a previous time. Think “Jeremiah Johnson.”

Up on the wall at camp hangs a fine-looking, double-barreled shotgun. It’s an Ithaca 16-gauge, a gauge no longer popular but at one time all the rage. It’s a beautiful old gun, its action tight.

This was Brad’s mother’s gun, and now he’s tickled it’s his. Wouldn’t part with it for a million bucks, he says. Out in my truck is my double-barreled Helice, a French gun, 20-gauge, as light and easy to carry as a fly rod.

It comes apart and goes together in a wonderful way, each of its finely made parts stamped with the crest and proud name of its maker, a man named J. Gaucher, long gone, the gun his memorial.

Like all of the guns I own, this gun has a history, which is why I would never buy a gun new. The veteran outdoor writer Frank Parker and I started out as antagonists, but wound up friends.

One afternoon in his basement, sipping bourbon and shooting pool, I admired the gun hanging on the wall.

“Take it down and heft it,” Frank said, and he could see I was in love with the gun, the value of which I have never tried to determine for fear it might stop me from hunting with it, as bad a thing as a fine horse not ridden.

“Give me a C-note and it’s yours,” said Frank without the least hesitation, and I thank him every time I pick it up. In my hand at the door to camp is my deer gun, a fine and battered old 35-caliber Remington Model 8.

Patented in 1900, it was, I believe, the first gas-operated semi-automatic, meaning the spent energy from the shell went into powering the reloading mechanism. It is ridiculously heavy and outdated. Still, it was Rennie Barnett’s gun, and I knew Rennie when I was a boy, and he came from a great hunting family out East.

So I am proud to put it up on the wall in camp, a place full of good stories and the smell of supper.

John Harrigan’s address: Box 39, Colebrook 03576. E-mail: hooligan@ncia.net

[RJCogburn]

Gotta love Harrigan

[billorites]

All that's missing is some 100 proof Yukon Jack.

[baltodog]

Guns and animal killers -- you oughta be ashamed.
Me, I lost my patience for deer hunting a few years back...I don't know why. I was up in a stand and just got bored.
Until recently, I would still go up to the cabin around Manistee, MI with everyone and take care of it while everyone was out in the woods. Now I'm in Kansas.
I sure miss the the comraderie (sp?). Even people you haven't seen in a year are still your best friend. There are no pretensions. No one cares how you dress or act.

[patton]

And a thirty-point=buck.

[Rebelbase]

Dean Alert! He has Southern Rednecks living next door to Vermont.

"I’ve tagged two deer with that gun and it is as much a part of my life as my truck and the front porch. "

[Catspaw]

SECOND WEEK OF DEER CAMP
Da Yoopers
(Dr. Demento's 25th anniversery tape)
Note: This transcription is dedicated to my uncle and
confirmation sponsor, Mr. Anthony Mazanec, who
was the best hunter in the Cleveland area
and who passed away last year

Hey there goes one (BANG!) Hey you shot my cow!
It's the second week of deer camp
I got a swollen head
I'm lying with the dustballs
Underneath the bed
An icy breeze is blowing
Into the tongue and groove
My pants are frozen to the floor
And I'm too sick to move
I didn't drink so many
Just durty (thirty) cans of beer
It musta been that last shot
That put me under here

REFRAIN
It's the second week of deer camp
And all the guys are here
We drink play cards and shoot the bull
But never shoot no deer
The only time we leave the camp
Is when we go for beer
The second week of deer camp
Is the greatest time of year

I remember playing poker
That weasel musta won
He's wearing my new swampers
And sleeping with my gun
He's snoring like a chainsaw
The camp smells like a dump
Someone's dirty underwear
Is hanging on the pump
Mickey's in the woodbox
Weener's on the stove
His flannel shirt is smoking (sniff)
I wonder if he knows (YEOW!)

REFRAIN

Beadle's crawling through the door
I think he got frostbite
He passed out in the outhouse
And he's been there since last night
Goofus stumbled through the door
He says he got a buck
He was coming from the wayside
And hit it with his truck
Musty cracked a beer and said
Let's celebrate
Goofus caught the first buck
Since 1968

REFRAIN
fade while repeating refrain

[LizardQueen]

Next to Vermont? Try IN Vermont. My husband is up at deer camp right now, as is my boss and half the guys I work with. Every one of them would've fit well in this story!

It's an annual ritual for the guys, and gives us women the house to ourselves for a week. Aahhhh, the peace and quiet ::lol::.

Never underestimate the beneficial effect deer camp has on the wives, too.

LQ

[JOHANNES801]

Hey Rebelbase,there are a hell of a lot of red neck gun totin yankees.

[PLMerite]

Da Yoopers!

That is one of the funniest songs I have ever heard.

[Rebelbase]

"Hey Rebelbase,there are a hell of a lot of red neck gun totin yankees."

Brothers in arms!

[Lurker]

Mrs. L informed me last night in no uncertain terms that I will be going hunting this year.

Lurker, Jr. will be getting some extended grandparent time as well.

L