Memories of the Hunt, the Old Sweater

Opening weekend of New York Southern Tier firearms season for whitetails is in the books as one of thirty four seasons spent in the great forests of my home state. Thanksgiving morning, holiday weekend hunts to follow are eagerly anticipated as in the past. Deer camp has certainly changed from a deer camp weekend with a monday opener to a Saturday opener. I do miss the weekend of camp as a prelude to opening day.

With thirty three seasons under my belt it is the time with others that I recall more fondly, reminisce about the most. It is during these solemn moments to recount the hunts of years gone by.  Hours in a favored stand, before first light, the often quiet surroundings as the evening sets gives plenty of opportunity to ponder. The day ebbs and flows and is not a constant parade of quarry, and often times the moment of truth occurs in just a view brief moments.

I recall most all the hunts, in all melancholy, days I hunted alone, with others, what was seen, what deer we tagged. As I grow older it takes a bit more time to exact some of them. The task of returning to the truck were sometimes epic efforts before the commonplace of atvs that made for far less dragging and the sore bones and aching muscles. It was always a welcome pleasure to have a few in the hunting party that could double as a front line tackle for a pro football team.

Deer camp is always the best. Annual get togethers and catching up on another years worth of living. Difficulties were discussed in good company and you would have any and all support required. Announcements of job changes, retirements, weddings, the births of children, grandchildren and we would also learn of those passed and their presence in camp would be in spirit. As I said, it’s the best.

It is for the most part a heartwarming reminiscing in appreciation of others, time in the great forests, time with family and friends. It is also a time to remember those that have passed, time with fellow hunters whose lives have changed. placing them in far away places and past friendships that have concluded as people change, not always for the better. As such they are memories of places and times I am fortunate to have. Deer camp embraces a full cross section of folks and our way of life. Away from work, the demands of daily life that I truly love the traditions of opening day, opening weekend in a well known, and familiar deer stand.

My bride of 18 years and I would be the only ones on our ranch this past weekend, a first in a very long time. Sightings leading up to this past weekend were excellent, and our hit list was longer than many years in the past. One brute of a buck I named pile driver from an encounter I had with him two years ago. The buck was not captured on a single game cam. He went without being spotted before, during or after season last year. This fall he came back to the area, and grew in many ways. He still evades the cams.

Having passed on small does and bucks during archery season, it has been my personal choice to only cull a few does in keeping with our current management plan and take only racked bucks. It is not a statement on other’s choices, but is ours to reach a specific goal on our place. There was a time where a fork horn or small six would be big news on our hillside and where it was common to see 15-17 does for every scrub buck we saw. Eighteen years later we expect to see a few good eight pointers and a few in Pope and Young, Boone and Crockett territory.

With fresh snow and a day in the stand ahead, I donned a familiar old sweater. For some it is a trusted old shotgun or rifle that is a link to the past generations, for me this was a present for my very first deer season, from my parents in 1985. My father, and my grandfather had stopped hunting long before I became of age despite being hard core Adirondack deer hunters that would boat plane into remote lakes for weeks at a time. Knowing as I do now, I would have loved to experienced that so many years ago.

The old sweater is an offering from the Remington sporting line of clothing, heavy wool with a padded shoulder patch, and rather oversized. My “lucky sweater” is of great warmth and comfort in the most miserable of hunting conditions. For me it is a direct connection to my parents who now have both passed. A most practical gift and with an emotional attachment and comfort to still have it. It is an essential must wear item on many cold days in the forests. Far more meaningful than the knitting of wool threads and practical use it would otherwise suggest. In retrospect it is one of the very few items that has remained in use since my first season.

In difference to many deer tracks and beds spotted from the day before, only one doe was seen early. No shot opportunity with thick stand of saplings between us. Nevertheless, it was early light excitement and enjoyable to watch her walk along in a most casual way. The typical volley of shots we normally expect to ring out in the valleys below and on our hill were far less frequent than past years.

Lee and I would do a few short pushes to each other, with no sightings to report. Sunday was even quieter and we would come across fresh beds from the night before just above our log home. One bed and a set of giant buck tracks suggested a bit of mockery and a teaser challenge. Challenge accepted of course.  On both days, my legs and hands would start to cool, my trusty old sweater kept me toasty warm as it had so many hunts in the past. I thank my parents for so much they did for me. I am inclined to silently repeat this often.

All in all, a quiet opening weekend. A good time afield and time on our land is highly coveted with the busy lives we lead. As the season marches on, I wish you many good days in a deer stand, a great deer camp with friends!

-MJ

© 2018 Mike Joyner- Joyner Outdoor Media

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