Vermont's deer rifle season opens Saturday, which means our editor was distracted all week at work before finally disappearing Thursday night. Why the early start? This essay from 2009 attempts to explain. Of course as we publish this, we wonder how many of our Vermont readers will be around to read it. Probably you've been distracted all week at work yourself and have long since disappeared…
Consult any deer camp journal and you’ll read that each year camp is “opened” the Friday before hunting season, as in: “11-14-14 Joe opened camp around 10 A.M..” If you’re not familiar with the subtleties of deer camp protocol, this admittedly mundane-sounding occurrence may not seem very noteworthy. The reality of the situation, though, is that opening camp is one of the finest, most reverent moments of the entire hunting season.
Many hunters I know take the day before deer season off specifically so they can open camp, even if it means one less vacation day they’ll get to devote to actual hunting. They’ll spend Thursday night lashing gear to their pick-up until it resembles the Clampett’s famous moving-to-California rig in the Beverly Hillbillies; come Friday morning, they’ll be on the road shortly after dawn.
“Why do you leave so early if all you’re going to do is sit around all day?” their wives or significant other might ask, to which the hunter will reply: “there’s a lot of work to do at camp.” He’s not lying, but he may be exaggerating slightly. What it boils down to is that the concept of mental decompression is just too hard to explain.
After holding up a line of real-worlders rushing off to work, the hunter will turn his vehicle towards the forest. He’ll pop the truck into 4-low, find first gear, and idly crawl his rig into the hills, all the while scanning the woods for game. He’ll savor the smells and textures of the autumn forest. He’ll brake for Bruce spanworm moths.
Once at camp, the actual “opening” follows a strict itinerary. The first order of business is to turn on the propane. Next, he’ll kindle a fire and wait patiently for the first waves of heat to mingle with the cold, stale air. After gathering water from the brook, he’ll set a pot to boil while he sweeps the camp clean of mouse droppings and cobwebs. He’ll wash down the counters with hot water, then, set the camp coffee to perk.
The next few hours will entail transferring the contents of the truck into the cabin, a delicate process since the ratio of people to space in a typical deer camp is roughly the same as that endured by sailors sequestered in a submarine. Everything has its right place and must be stowed away accordingly or chaos will result.
The hunter will finish unpacking around lunch time, just in time for a midday meal. At this point in the day he’ll usually crack a beer – just because he can. He’ll set and wind the clock to the tone of the radio’s midday news report, then he’ll find a station with a more leisured pace. After lunch, he’ll brown the evening’s pork roast and set it to braise on the antique range.
If he’s serious about bagging a buck, the hunter will have planned out the next day’s hunt well in advance, leaving his afternoon free for time with a good book. Having claimed the nice bunk, the one by the window, the hunter will make his bed and settle onto the soft mattress. He’ll read for an hour or so until he drifts off to sleep, the book butterflied on his chest.
When he wakes it will be blue in camp, the color of lost light, of evening’s promise. The woodstove will be radiating gentle heat. The clock will be ticking lazily. The simmering pork roast will have filled the camp with the most delightful smell.
He’ll lie in bed for a little while longer, thinking about the next day’s hunt, reveling in the beauty of silence. When he hears the far off rumblings of an engine, he’ll spring from bed and notice the distant headlights of his hunting companions. Then he’ll set the table and pour the celebratory shots of whiskey, rub all traces of the nap from his eyes, and ready himself to enlighten his camp mates as to just how lucky they are to have someone like him slaving over dinner all day.
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