by Rex Trulove

Created on: October 10, 2008

The numbers of times we've had deer in our camp are so great that it almost feels like this has been a norm. It has even happened in deer camp, though perhaps not quite as often and the deer have generally been does. These beautiful animals can be interesting to have walking through camp, however if it is deer camp, it can be frustrating particularly if you have spent the day in vain looking for a buck, only to find that deer have been checking your camp out.

The most interesting deer visitation I can remember occurred some years ago, in my father's deer camp.

My father had been hunting deer since he was a teenager and generally had good success at bringing back a venison. Most of the time, hunting amounted to a week or so in camp, with a few friends and family camping out as well. This made a lot of mouths to feed, but it also game the whole camping experience a special feeling of camaraderie.

During the day, the hunters would generally load up and head out about an hour before dawn, to get to the best areas by the time it got light enough to see. We'd also go out a couple of hours before dark, never returning from that hunt until night had fallen, unless a buck was taken. Both periods were productive, and as a general rule, the middle of the day was spent visiting, talking, playing cards, and enjoying everyone's company.

That year wasn't much different in that regard, but it was not usual in that it had been hotter and drier than normal. We ate almost as must dust as we did food, and it sure wasn't nearly as tasty. Day after day, we'd jump into the pickups and head out, hopeful. By noon we'd return to camp grumbling. Even deer tracks were scarce, and tracks make an unsatisfactory meal anyway.

After three days, I was beginning to think we were going to be skunked, which was a rare occurrence. One of our camping group had minor success, bagging a small forked horn, but that was pretty meager. Another hunter in our group had seen a nice 3 by 4 point, but had shot high. Our poor luck was holding, and I was beginning to think that my stepmother had the best idea.

You see, she enjoyed camping, but really didn't care for hunting though she was a pretty passable shot. Each year, my father would buy her a license and tag, she had her own rifle, but she'd just let him fill the tag. She preferred staying in camp, reading, and enjoying camp while everyone else was out looking for deer.

Mind you, she loved venison and had killed a few, she just didn't like all the effort that

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