Why it's called tradition

Joe, at 71 years of age, and for a change I really can't exaggerate, walked the boots off every single one of us. He May have been the last one out of his bunk everyday but once his feet set foot on mother earth and a cup of coffee was in hand, he was out the door for the day. Somehow hunting with his fire and determination, I may have lit my last cigar.

Some days it only rained all day and others just until we were soaked through to the noon hour. Mark said if he was going to be that wet he might just as well go fishing. He did, and he did fantastic. Grilled salmon with venison backs straps two nights in a row won't soon be forgotten as the surf and turf of 2009.

“Down south Buck” shot his usual red eyed eight pointer and “West over Buck” got a at dark doe. Ashlee got her first deer, her first year, which took top rack at nine points. It might just as well have been a spike buck we were all so happy for her. Ashlee shot the buck then Charlie helped drag it out of the woods. Charlie went back to the stand with his 12 gauge shotgun to retrieve the portable and ended up shooting a pair of grouse. They both drug the same deer and two totally different deer tales came out of it.

We ate more squash this year, than in years past. We had elk chili lunches and I think I drank the same amount of Irish whiskey. My daughter's cookies never made it too far out of the warm oven. Once again I shot an Irish eleven pointer. That's the pairing of two spikes if you’re new to the deer camp traditions.

My dog slept during the day and barked almost all night. The neighboring deer camps checked in on us, and we them. That means we ate their chips and cookies and they got even nibbling on our table treats. Just a note here to my self of course, Kinda odd how I never get older but seeing some guys once a year, my how they aged. Yeah, all in all, it was just another year in the deer camp.