Vintage: Deer Camp (pic)

[cshold]

Clad in plaid, successful happy deer campers.

[RIHMFIRE]

I remenber those days....
that pic reminds me of my Great Uncle...
his 94 is in my gun rack in my office....

[Pitchy]

Looks like fun, i`ve never been to a hunting camp

[allhands]

First...about deer camp...Imagine a world where all you need to worry about is hunting, eating, and keeping the fire going in the cook stove.......it's alot like that. Especially if you're upta camp with 3 great friends who think exactly the same thing.

Second, wish I SAW 3 deer this season. The herd here in Maine is decimated. Maybe next year....

[Bill in Oregon]

I call BS. That's been photoshopped. You cannot successfully harvest deer without wearing $400 worth of the latest camo. Can't be done.
It's like with wild turkeys. Cannot be killed without at least 1 7/8 ounces from a 3 1/2-inch 12 gauge Mag. You guys should know better!

[hightime]

Pitchy, I'd be honored if you'd stop by my camp for a cup of coffee some time. I go every week to do something. I'm cutting saw logs now, checking trail cams, cutting firewood, exploring the back country and looking at tracks.

Owen

[O.S.O.K.]

Looks like paradise Owen

[Pitchy]

Say now Owen that`s darn nice of ya, we don`t go far in the winter but maybe next spring. Will get in touch here if we`re heading that way and if your over by Hackensack give a shout too.

[Cimarron Red]

Yep, deer camp is quite a place, especially for a young hunter. Here's a little poem that helps capture the atmosphere:

PALACE IN THE POPPLE

By John Madson

It’s a smoky, raunchy boars’ nest
With an unswept, drafty floor
And pillow ticking curtains
And knife scars on the door.
The smell of pine-knot fire
From a stovepipe that’s come loose
Mingles sweetly with the boot grease
And the Copenhagen snoose.

There are work-worn .30-.30s
With battered, steel-shod stocks,
And drying lines of long johns
And of steaming, pungent socks.
There’s a table for the Bloody Four
And their games of two-card draw,
And there’s deep and dreamless sleeping
On bunk ticks stuffed with straw.

Jerry and Jake stand by the stove,
Their gun-talk loud and hot,
And Bogie has drawn a pair of kings,
And is raking in the pot.
Franks’ been drafted again as cook
And is peeling some spuds for stew
While Bruce wanders by in baggy drawers
Reciting “Dan McGrew”.

No where on Earth is fire so warm
Nor coffee so infernal,
Nor whiskers so stiff, jokes so rich,
Nor hope blooming so eternal.
A man can live for a solid week
In the same old under-britches
And walk like a man and spit when he wants
And scratch himself where he itches.

I tell you, boys, there’s no place else
Where I’d rather be, come fall,
Where I eat like a bear and sing like a wolf
And feel like I’m bull-pine tall.
In that raunchy cabin out in the bush
In the land of the raven and loon,
With a tracking snow lying new to the ground
At the end of the rutting moon.

[JerryB]

Thanks for the picture. I have some good memories of a north woods deer camp. We camped on the Manistee River west of Grayling Michigan when we lived in Michigan in the early 1950's.My dad and uncle bought an old army squad tent and that is what we lived in during deer season, deep snow and deep temperatures. Lots of red and black wool clothes, wool socks, felts and rubber boots.