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Death of a Michigan Deer Camp - A Millennial's Prespective.

34K views 216 replies 86 participants last post by  willardneff1971 
#1 ·
Only a deer hunter knows the feeling…

I’ve only shot two deer in my life, both button bucks. One at the age of 17, one at the age of 19. Wounded three (hard to admit, even harder lessons to learn). Seen countless.

Even with a sorry record like that, I have been a deer hunter all of my life. Just as much as the guys who go out and shoot a record buck every year. Just as much as the guys who get enough meat to keep their freezers stocked with venison year-round. Here it sounds like I am trying to justify it to myself, but I am not. Am I envious of them? … absolutely, but I am still a Michigan deer hunter albeit no Ted Nugent. I am lucky to log 10 four hour sits from early antlerless, through January first, through archery, fire arm, and muzzle loader. It doesn’t matter how much or how little you hunt or how many deer you’ve bagged, if you’re a deer hunter you know the feeling, and it all starts somewhere.

I remember my dad leaving every November for that first week of opener. For Deer Camp. Talking to him on the phone periodically and without even saying hello asking with the excitement of a child, “Did you get one?!” … the answer was typically no, but he would report who saw what and who DID actually get one (typically Uncle Kelly or Tom). I got to hear about the snow too, it was always better if there was snow. How could there be snow up there if there was no snow down here?! This is how I grew up. Every November. Knowing my day to join Deer Camp would come soon… not knowing that deer camp was so much more than just a week or two of deer hunting.

I remember the feeling of my first sit. I remember the shack I sat in with my cousin. I can picture perfectly the stump we put apply jelly on for bait. I remember my dad sitting in the tree stand above us with his bow as we tried our best to sit still and be quiet. Being only eight years old, that was a poorly accomplished task. No deer were shot. Memories were made. I was officially a hunter.

I hunted periodically throughout my teen years. Typically, with a bow, mostly on my own. My dad was the kind of guy who just liked to sit in the woods rather than “shoot the deer, gut the deer, drag the deer” … you know, all that hard work that comes along with hunting. Even though I did not have much of a hunting mentor, I still knew I was a hunter, and when I was old enough, I would get to be a part of deer camp.

Now this camp, like countless other deer camps in Michigan started three generations back from me (me being the fourth), when my great grandpa and some friends bought 80 acres of rolling hills and swamp in the deep woods of Montmorency County circa late 1930’s. That’s when the stories started. These are the stories passed down every deer camper knows. Every deer camper has the stories. I never met my great grandpa, but I have heard his stories through memories of surviving deer campers. Stories told after good dinner and a case or ten of Blatz. Stories that can’t be told in any other place, at any other time. And these stories aren’t just stories… Only a deer hunter knows the feeling.

It’s something like nostalgia. Nostalgia that goes back a long long time. It is ancient. It tugs on the heart strings. And for this hunter, the feeling is not fading (it is a feeling that CANT fade), but the times ARE changing.

When I turned 18, I finally got my chance. I was the first member of the fourth generation of deer hunters at this particular deer camp. And if you’re still reading at this point, it is everything you know a deer camp to be. Hunting was just the half of it.

My fellow deer campers, the experienced “great white mighty hunters,” prided themselves on never missing a deer camp. One of my uncles and my grandpa missed a season or two when they were in the service. I think another member might have missed a season for the birth of his daughter. Other than that, these guys were die hards. It ran in their blood as it runs in mine. But times are changing and I am in a different generation than the deer campers of the past.

It is with a heavy heart and the purpose that I write this… the chain has been broken. For three generations, this deer camp has survived with unwavering commitment. November 15th was deer camp. End of story. No excuses. It was a part of life. In the past eleven years, I have made it to about four deer camps. There are three other fourth generation deer campers who attend this particular camp. They too attend sporadically… but like bagging a record buck on a yearly basis or successfully harvesting deer every year to keep your freezer full of meat, none of that matters. The death of a deer camp may mark the end of an era, but I am still a fourth-generation deer hunter and my son will be a fifth-generation deer hunter. Deer camp or no deer camp, only a deer hunter knows the feeling.

This story is dedicated to my late Great Grandpa Carol and Great Uncle Denny (RIP to the best damn cook anyone has ever known). My Grandpa Keesling, Great Uncle Jeff, my dad, Uncle Kelly, Uncle Mark, Uncle Kenny, Tom, and Jack (also a good cook, but defiantly no Denny). Thanks for teaching me what it means to be a deer hunter.

I would like to read some other stories from deer hunting millennials (or from other mighty hunting elders, the ones with the grey hair) about deer camp. Whether you have a similar story where an old deer camp is coming to an end. Or whether you attend a deer camp that is up and going strong with a new generation of deer hunters! I think the die-hard Michigan deer camps of the past are coming to an end with the Millennial generation, but I could well be wrong. I am not saying this is a bad thing, and I am definitely not looking to start a debate about us Millennials (so please keep all anti-Millennial jabs to angry Facebook posts, however good-hearted insults gladly welcomed – in fact one might say I feel entitled to them… HAH!). The times are changing, the times have changed, and I personally am not able to take the time off work like my blue-collar dad, grandpa, and great grandpa were able to. Anyways – happy hunting to everyone. I hope you’re feeling that incredible feeling only know to a Michigander during deer hunting season!
 
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#2 ·
So has everyone stopped hunting? Is the 80 acres gone? I'm not sure i understand the title. Our deer camp was on public land and it was different every year. We would try new locations all the time. Lots of maps and scouting. My dad and I did very well. It was tough hunting but fun. What I remember most is the time spent together. It's important to unplug and get out. The reason those early hunters made it every year is because it was a priority. You could still make time to get away if you wanted. Even if you miss the opener you can get out for the weekend. The only time I ever missed is when I was in the service. I will always make time to get out.
 
#4 ·
Hey - Nah the camp is still up and running, not everyone goes outs to hunt like they use to. A couple of guys don't go any more. But it is still there. I guess why I titled it that is because my generation will not be continuing the tradition. This post was not really because I can't find the time to go out. More about the nostalgia and the feeling associated with Michigan deer hunting with the season opening a week ago. I still go out as much as I can. Sounds like you had a fun deer camp experience.
 
#5 ·
Oh man, I think you totally missed the point. What you said may be true, but I think I tried to emphasize the opposite, just how incredibly important it is to me! :)

Edit: And to your defense... maybe I did a poor job trying to get my point across, I don't know if I even really had a point other than deer hunting nostalgia. But it was fun to write!
 
#6 ·
Deer hunting millenial here (1983, hello!)...

Didn't start hunting until I was 28, right after my daughter was born.

That first year I went to 'deer camp' in the thumb with my Dad, two Uncle, two cousins, and a family friend. I felt good to be with that side of the family, as I typically don't get to see them much throughout the year.

Back then it was exclusively an Old Boys club - lots of raunchy jokes and humor, constant ribbing, ridiculous amounts of farting (hey, we're pollacks after all) - but now my Uncle, the property owner, has retired and he tore down his old cabin and put up a brand new house that him and my Aunt retired to. After the new place went up 'deer camp' definitely lost some of it's magic. It doesn't help that my Aunt is there full-time now too.

Also doesn't help my dad moved out of state, my other uncle passed away, and my other cousin is usually too busy to make it up on firearms opener (we only gun hunt up there.) The last two years it's just been my Uncle, my Cousin, and myself up there. Which is usually a boon for hunting opening day, but does feel a little empty...

I have gone up the past two years for firearms opener but it just doesn't feel the same. Still i'm optimistic. My cousin's children are almost old enough to start hunting, and maybe someday i'll be able to bring my son along as well.

If nothing else i'm incredibly thankful for my Dad having begged me to come up deer camp that year. I don't think anyone (myself included) knew what kind of fire that would light inside of me. But I think you understand... only a deer hunter knows the feeling.

Now I have access private land near where I live and have taken some decent deer off there the last few years. I also started seriously hunting public land this year and hope to be successful there as well. I plan on working on getting access to more private land this year too - something I haven't done previously.

I am lucky to have a job with very flexible time off and scheduling as well, so as long as my hunting aligns with my wifes work schedule and having to watch our kids it works out pretty good. I can't help but feel sorry for people who work in corp. who don't have flexible scheduling and a modern time off policies. It certainly is one of the things that enables me to pursue my passions...

Honestly, I hadn't given much thought to what I was passionate about before I discovered deer hunting. But now I know. And you do too... only a deer hunter knows the feeling.
 
#11 ·
Heck yeah! Gotta keep it going :) Thanks for the story... good stuff. Glad to know your deer camp stank as bad as mine!

Deer hunting millenial here (1983, hello!)...

Didn't start hunting until I was 28, right after my daughter was born.

That first year I went to 'deer camp' in the thumb with my Dad, two Uncle, two cousins, and a family friend. I felt good to be with that side of the family, as I typically don't get to see them much throughout the year.

Back then it was exclusively an Old Boys club - lots of raunchy jokes and humor, constant ribbing, ridiculous amounts of farting (hey, we're pollacks after all) - but now my Uncle, the property owner, has retired and he tore down his old cabin and put up a brand new house that him and my Aunt retired to. After the new place went up 'deer camp' definitely lost some of it's magic. It doesn't help that my Aunt is there full-time now too.

Also doesn't help my dad moved out of state, my other uncle passed away, and my other cousin is usually too busy to make it up on firearms opener (we only gun hunt up there.) The last two years it's just been my Uncle, my Cousin, and myself up there. Which is usually a boon for hunting opening day, but does feel a little empty...

I have gone up the past two years for firearms opener but it just doesn't feel the same. Still i'm optimistic. My cousin's children are almost old enough to start hunting, and maybe someday i'll be able to bring my son along as well.

If nothing else i'm incredibly thankful for my Dad having begged me to come up deer camp that year. I don't think anyone (myself included) knew what kind of fire that would light inside of me. But I think you understand... only a deer hunter knows the feeling.

Now I have access private land near where I live and have taken some decent deer off there the last few years. I also started seriously hunting public land this year and hope to be successful there as well. I plan on working on getting access to more private land this year too - something I haven't done previously.

I am lucky to have a job with very flexible time off and scheduling as well, so as long as my hunting aligns with my wifes work schedule and having to watch our kids it works out pretty good. I can't help but feel sorry for people who work in corp. who don't have flexible scheduling and a modern time off policies. It certainly is one of the things that enables me to pursue my passions...

Honestly, I hadn't given much thought to what I was passionate about before I discovered deer hunting. But now I know. And you do too... only a deer hunter knows the feeling.
 
#7 ·
Describes my experience to a T. Dad would never let me skip school growing up for deer camp as they always went to the U.P. and required a week off. Always remember getting home and asking mom if dad called and when he would call back and if he had a deer. I won't say our camp is dying. But it is certainly only holding on by a thread. We still go every year. But no others in my generation do. Just dad and uncle remain from the older generations. Every year they moan how they are getting old and it is getting harder. I hope it continues on but I doubt it will a whole lot longer. With all the cousins and siblings in my family of hard to moderate hunters, only 2 of us got the hunting bug. IMO deer camp dying is a sign of the dying sport

Sent from my XT1650 using Tapatalk
 
#8 ·
Sky Plant Tent Tree Tarpaulin


Sorry to hear about your fading deer camp- hopefully one day it will pick up again. This is a photo of us at deer camp last year- we started camp about 3 years ago when we were all in our early-mid twenties. 5-8 guys usually and it's going strong. We don't shoot big bucks but we do have a lot of fun. Great food- radio station tuned into 97.7 the bear- thousands of acres of state land at our fingertips- no other hunters in sight-plenty of cold beverages and laughter to go around- and the occasional deer hanging from our buck pole just puts the icing on the cake- wouldn't have it any other way. November 9th-19th can't come soon enough. Ps - if you look closely yes some of us have matching hoodies, a member of deer camp provided all 8 of us with custom hoodies commemorating our deer camp- awesome suprise last year.
 
#13 ·
View attachment 274564

Sorry to hear about your fading deer camp- hopefully one day it will pick up again. This is a photo of us at deer camp last year- we started camp about 3 years ago when we were all in our early-mid twenties. 5-8 guys usually and it's going strong. We don't shoot big bucks but we do have a lot of fun. Great food- radio station tuned into 97.7 the bear- thousands of acres of state land at our fingertips- no other hunters in sight-plenty of cold beverages and laughter to go around- and the occasional deer hanging from our buck pole just puts the icing on the cake- wouldn't have it any other way. November 9th-19th can't come soon enough. Ps - if you look closely yes some of us have matching hoodies, a member of deer camp provided all 8 of us with custom hoodies commemorating our deer camp- awesome suprise last year.
Great stuff man, too bad you don't have any of the old farts around to tell you how to do everything! Awesome to hear of new camps starting up. Just wondering, what kind of work do you guys do where you can five days off and go hunting?
 
#9 · (Edited)
Hopefully, you will have continued access to the land and at least be able to share an occasional hunt there with your children, and other family members.

I was never a part of a traditional deer camp, but have shared many unforgettable experiences with family and friends who have joined me on occasion to stay in my cabin, and hunt the surrounding State forests of the NeLP. Here is one of my favorite stories and memories.

It was somewhere around 1989, I'd have to check the photo albums to be certain at this point. My father and I were up at the cabin to bow hunt the last week of the rut, and the first few days of the firearm opener. I had been deer hunting since 1982, and my dad probably 5 years or so before that. I had taken deer with a bow most years since 1983, my dad had yet to ever take a deer.

On November 15th that year, I was lucky enough to take my first ever deer with a firearm. Even though it was just a 1.5 year old spike, it is really another of my favorite stories to date. However this story is about my dad’s hunt, on November 16th that year.

It started snowing very hard that day as I headed out the door for my mile trek to my State land blind. At around 2:30 PM, I made sure my dad was set up in his blind that was just a stone’s throw from the cabin door. I told him that if he were to connect, to drive to where I enter state land and beep the car horn 3 times. I would head out and come track his deer for him.

At around 3:00 or so the hard snow turned into a BLIZZARD! I could barely see 20 yards out in front of me. The snow was accumulating probably close to 6 inches per hour! AT 4:00 PM I hear a shot that was fired from the direction of our cabin. I remember thinking, “No Way! Was that dad”??? I waited on pins and needles for a half hour, but was saddened when the beeping car horn signal never transpired. I hunted until dark. When I began to make my way out of the blind I noted that the snow which was up to my boot tops when I set out that afternoon was now up to my upper thigh! It really was NOT an enjoyable walk back to camp that night!

I get back to the cabin and my dad is waiting at the door. Before I step inside he starts calling me every name in the book in language that I could never post on a public forum. He said unmentionable stuff about my mother, and asked me “what in the #$@& took you so long”. I replied “that was you who shot this afternoon”?? He says, “YES”!! “You were supposed to come track for me when you heard me shoot”! I said “Dad”! “It’s flippin the second day of gun season, and I am over a mile away. You really expected me to leave the woods EVERY time I hear a shot fired”?? I continue “You were SUPPOSED to drive to where I go in the woods, and BEEP three times for a signal”. He quieted down and says. “I forgot! We must have gotten 2 feet of snow since I shot, we’ll never find the deer”. I asked what he shot, and he tells me “a beautiful six! He says I hit it good! It jumped and cleared the dead tree it was next to when I shot! There WAS blood all over that dead tree”!!

I hang my rifle on the rack, and head back out the door. “Where are you going” dad asks? I say “To see if I can find your deer, where else”! Dad says, “Don’t you want me to go with you”. He throws on his boots and jacket and we head out the door.

Sure enough, I remove the heavy accumulation of snow from the dead tree across from his blind and find good blood beneath. I head out down the trail my dad believes that the buck had run. I tell him to stay put so I have a good perspective of where I started for reference. Honestly, it is NOT looking good at all! I am looking at the underside of branches hoping to find any traces of blood, looking for traces of brown that might be a deer… ANYTHING to give me hopes of finding this deer. Nothing! At about 50 yards, I make a note that the trail I am on splits and goes off to the left. I stay on the trail I was on for another 75 yards and then decide to check out the fork. My dad sees my light as I am walking back and says somewhat hopelessly “Find anything”? “No” I reply, “There was a trail that branched off to the left, I wanted to check that out before I go much further”. I find the branch in the trail, and start making my way down, again looking for ANY SIGN that his deer may have taken that trail. Moving slowly, as I shine the light up 10 yards in front of me I note a “Twig” that really could be an antler point if I used my imagination. I walk up to that twig, stand next to it and see nothing but a solid blanket of white… no sign at all that what is below that inch and a half long “twig” could be a deer. I grab the twig to move it aside, and low and behold … it IS my dad’s buck that emerges from beneath the white blanket as a I pull!!

As I start dragging it back, he again sees my light and asks “Did you find him Joe”? I say “Screw it dad – I will come back and look in the morning”!! He says “No way! You found him! I know that you would NEVER give up that easily”! I emerge with the deer, and say “yep I got him”! Dad is jumping with joy as he hugs me and says “Looks like backstrap and deer heart two nights in a row”!! I turn the deer on his side, and say “well maybe backstrap, but looks like you may have disintegrated this heart! Nice shot dad”!

We have the deer mounted, and this his first deer hung on the wall of his home forever. Or, at least until this past summer. Dad passed away on me this past July. The trips up to the cabin have been somewhat emotional because of the many fond memories of drives up, and times shared together up there. He was always my “good luck” charm, and I will forever miss sharing my hunting successes and experiences with him. To date that was his only deer ever. It hangs on my wall now.

These are the stories and memories that I will continue to share, and I hope that you still find time to share with those close to you.
<----<<<
 
#14 ·
Hopefully, you will have continued access to the land and at least be able to share an occasional hunt there with your children, and other family members.

I was never a part of a traditional deer camp, but have shared many unforgettable experiences with family and friends who have joined me on occasion to stay in my cabin, and hunt the surrounding State forests of the NeLP. Here is one of my favorite stories and memories.

It was somewhere around 1989, I'd have to check the photo albums to be certain at this point. My father and I were up at the cabin to bow hunt the last week of the rut, and the first few days of the firearm opener. I had been deer hunting since 1982, and my dad probably 5 years or so before that. I had taken deer with a bow most years since 1983, my dad had yet to ever take a deer.

On November 15th that year, I was lucky enough to take my first ever deer with a firearm. Even though it was just a 1.5 year old spike, it is really another of my favorite stories to date. However this story is about my dad’s hunt, on November 16th that year.

It started snowing very hard that day as I headed out the door for my mile trek to my State land blind. At around 2:30 PM, I made sure my dad was set up in his blind that was just a stone’s throw from the cabin door. I told him that if he were to connect, to drive to where I enter state land and beep the car horn 3 times. I would head out and come track his deer for him.

At around 3:00 or so the hard snow turned into a BLIZZARD! I could barely see 20 yards out in front of me. The snow was accumulating probably close to 6 inches per hour! AT 4:00 PM I hear a shot that was fired from the direction of our cabin. I remember thinking, “No Way! Was that dad”??? I waited on pins and needles for a half hour, but was saddened when the beeping car horn signal never transpired. I hunted until dark. When I began to make my way out of the blind I noted that the snow which was up to my boot tops when I set out that afternoon was now up to my upper thigh! It really was NOT an enjoyable walk back to camp that night!

I get back to the cabin and my dad is waiting at the door. Before I step inside he starts calling me every name in the book in language that I could never post on a public forum. He said unmentionable stuff about my mother, and asked me “what in the #$@& took you so long”. I replied “that was you who shot this afternoon”?? He says, “YES”!! “You were supposed to come track for me when you heard me shoot”! I said “Dad”! “It’s flippin the second day of gun season, and I am over a mile away. You really expected me to leave the woods EVERY time I hear a shot fired”?? I continue “You were SUPPOSED to drive to where I go in the woods, and BEEP three times for a signal”. He quieted down and says. “I forgot! We must have gotten 2 feet of snow since I shot, we’ll never find the deer”. I asked what he shot, and he tells me “a beautiful six! He says I hit it good! It jumped and cleared the dead tree it was next to when I shot! There WAS blood all over that dead tree”!!

I hang my rifle on the rack, and head back out the door. “Where are you going” dad asks? I say “To see if I can find your deer, where else”! Dad says, “Don’t you want me to go with you”. He throws on his boots and jacket and we head out the door.

Sure enough, I remove the heavy accumulation of snow from the dead tree across from his blind and find good blood beneath. I head out down the trail my dad believes that the buck had run. I tell him to stay put so I have a good perspective of where I started for reference. Honestly, it is NOT looking good at all! I am looking at the underside of branches hoping to find any traces of blood, looking of traces of brown that might be a deer… ANYTHING to give me hopes of finding this deer. Nothing! At about 50 yards, I make a note that the trail I am on splits and goes off to the left. I stay on the trail I was on for another 75 yards and then decide to check out the fork. My dad sees my light as I am walking back and says somewhat hopelessly “Find anything”? “No” I reply, “There was a trail that branched off to the left, I wanted to check that out before I go much further”. I find the branch in the trail, and start making my way down, again looking for ANY SIGN that his deer may have taken that trail. Moving slowly, as I shine the light up 10 yards in front of me I note a “Twig” that really could be an antler point if I used my imagination. I walk up to that twig, stand next to it and see nothing but a solid blanket of white… no sign at all that what is below that inch and a half long “twig” could be a deer. I grab the twig to move it aside, and low and behold … it IS my dad’s buck that emerges from beneath the white blanket as a I pull!!

As I start dragging it back, he again sees my light and asks “Did you find him Joe”? I say “Screw it dad – I will come back and look in the morning”!! He says “No way! You found him! I know that you would NEVER give up that easily”! I emerge with the deer, and say “yep I got him”! Dad is jumping with joy as he hugs me and says “Looks like backstrap and deer heart two night is a row”!! I turn the deer on his side, and say “well maybe backstrap, but looks like you may have disintegrated this heart! Nice shot dad”!

We have the deer mounted, and this his first deer hung on the wall of his home forever. Or, at least until this past summer. Dad passed away on me this past July. The trips up to the cabin have been somewhat emotional because of the many fond memories of drives up, and times shared together up there. He was always my “good luck” charm, and I will forever miss sharing my hunting successes and experiences with him. To date that was his only deer ever. It hangs on my wall now.

These are the stories and memories that I will continue to share, and I hope that you still find time to share with those close to you.
<----<<<
Oh man, its the stories like these that get me. At least you know you won't be alone in the stand this year! Thanks for sharing, RIP to your father :(
 
#10 ·
Only a deer hunter knows the feeling…

I’ve only shot two deer in my life, both button bucks. One at the age of 17, one at the age of 19. Wounded three (hard to admit, even harder lessons to learn). Seen countless.

Even with a sorry record like that, I have been a deer hunter all of my life. Just as much as the guys who go out and shoot a record buck every year. Just as much as the guys who get enough meat to keep their freezers stocked with venison year-round. Here it sounds like I am trying to justify it to myself, but I am not. Am I envious of them? … absolutely, but I am still a Michigan deer hunter albeit no Ted Nugent. I am lucky to log 10 four hour sits from early antlerless, through January first, through archery, fire arm, and muzzle loader. It doesn’t matter how much or how little you hunt or how many deer you’ve bagged, if you’re a deer hunter you know the feeling, and it all starts somewhere.

I remember my dad leaving every November for that first week of opener. For Deer Camp. Talking to him on the phone periodically and without even saying hello asking with the excitement of a child, “Did you get one?!” … the answer was typically no, but he would report who saw what and who DID actually get one (typically Uncle Kelly or Tom). I got to hear about the snow too, it was always better if there was snow. How could there be snow up there if there was no snow down here?! This is how I grew up. Every November. Knowing my day to join Deer Camp would come soon… not knowing that deer camp was so much more than just a week or two of deer hunting.

I remember the feeling of my first sit. I remember the shack I sat in with my cousin. I can picture perfectly the stump we put apply jelly on for bait. I remember my dad sitting in the tree stand above us with his bow as we tried our best to sit still and be quiet. Being only eight years old, that was a poorly accomplished task. No deer were shot. Memories were made. I was officially a hunter.

I hunted periodically throughout my teen years. Typically, with a bow, mostly on my own. My dad was the kind of guy who just liked to sit in the woods rather than “shoot the deer, gut the deer, drag the deer” … you know, all that hard work that comes along with hunting. Even though I did not have much of a hunting mentor, I still knew I was a hunter, and when I was old enough, I would get to be a part of deer camp.

Now this camp, like countless other deer camps in Michigan started three generations back from me (me being the fourth), when my great grandpa and some friends bought 80 acres of rolling hills and swamp in the deep woods of Montmorency County circa late 1930’s. That’s when the stories started. These are the stories passed down every deer camper knows. Every deer camper has the stories. I never met my great grandpa, but I have heard his stories through memories of surviving deer campers. Stories told after good dinner and a case or ten of Blatz. Stories that can’t be told in any other place, at any other time. And these stories aren’t just stories… Only a deer hunter knows the feeling.

It’s something like nostalgia. Nostalgia that goes back a long long time. It is ancient. It tugs on the heart strings. And for this hunter, the feeling is not fading (it is a feeling that CANT fade), but the times ARE changing.

When I turned 18, I finally got my chance. I was the first member of the fourth generation of deer hunters at this particular deer camp. And if you’re still reading at this point, it is everything you know a deer camp to be. Hunting was just the half of it.

My fellow deer campers, the experienced “great white mighty hunters,” prided themselves on never missing a deer camp. One of my uncles and my grandpa missed a season or two when they were in the service. I think another member might have missed a season for the birth of his daughter. Other than that, these guys were die hards. It ran in their blood as it runs in mine. But times are changing and I am in a different generation than the deer campers of the past.

It is with a heavy heart and the purpose that I write this… the chain has been broken. For three generations, this deer camp has survived with unwavering commitment. November 15th was deer camp. End of story. No excuses. It was a part of life. In the past eleven years, I have made it to about four deer camps. There are three other fourth generation deer campers who attend this particular camp. They too attend sporadically… but like bagging a record buck on a yearly basis or successfully harvesting deer every year to keep your freezer full of meat, none of that matters. The death of a deer camp may mark the end of an era, but I am still a fourth-generation deer hunter and my son will be a fifth-generation deer hunter. Deer camp or no deer camp, only a deer hunter knows the feeling.

This story is dedicated to my late Great Grandpa Carol and Great Uncle Denny (RIP to the best damn cook anyone has ever known). My Grandpa Keesling, Great Uncle Jeff, my dad, Uncle Kelly, Uncle Mark, Uncle Kenny, Tom, and Jack (also a good cook, but defiantly no Denny). Thanks for teaching me what it means to be a deer hunter.

I would like to read some other stories from deer hunting millennials (or from other mighty hunting elders, the ones with the grey hair) about deer camp. Whether you have a similar story where an old deer camp is coming to an end. Or whether you attend a deer camp that is up and going strong with a new generation of deer hunters! I think the die-hard Michigan deer camps of the past are coming to an end with the Millennial generation, but I could well be wrong. I am not saying this is a bad thing, and I am definitely not looking to start a debate about us Millennials (so please keep all anti-Millennial jabs to angry Facebook posts, however good-hearted insults gladly welcomed – in fact one might say I feel entitled to them… HAH!). The times are changing, the times have changed, and I personally am not able to take the time off work like my blue-collar dad, grandpa, and great grandpa were able to. Anyways – happy hunting to everyone. I hope you’re feeling that incredible feeling only know to a Michigander during deer hunting season!
You love it but you're going to let it die? not going to make an effort?

That's not how you preserve something that's important.
 
#15 ·
Not a millennial here (in my early 40's) but I have a couple of different camp perspectives.

I grew up being able to go to my great uncle's 120 acres with a rustic cabin in the middle of it since I could walk. My father, uncles, cousins and a few good friends would be up there every weekend starting in October through December. (We were very fortunate that it was only 15 minutes from our home town though so that allowed us to visit much more often.) My dad and family and friends weren't bow hunters but we would still go up there and they would play cards and listen to the football games on Saturday and maybe cut some wood while I would walk up and down the two track squirrel hunting. Once I turned 12 and could bowhunt I started doing that as well, however, firearm season was the ticket at that time and I couldn't wait until I turned 14 so I could get my own blind (always hunted opening day with dad and then he would drive me home that night since I had school the next day!) and shoot my own deer. In my early 20's my great uncle passed and left the property to his son who wasn't a hunter and had stepped on the property about 2 times in his lifetime. Long story somewhat short, he ended up calling us mid summer and informing us that he had sold the property and we needed to remove all of our items we wanted from it. We had no idea he was planning to sell or we would have done whatever we needed to in order to buy it ourselves. So, the end of an era there, just not of our own doings. Luckily, I was working on a local farm and was able to find land for myself to hunt, I just didn't get the "camp" life anymore.

On the other side, I was also able to join one of my friends' UP bow camp from time to time throughout my high school and college years as well which is a 3 acre private piece within thousands of acres of Federal land in the central/western UP. While I wasn't able to join them for the full week that they were up there due to school commitments, whenever I could I made the 6 hour drive just to spend a couple of days and get the camp experience there as well. Once out of college and into real life, marriage, family and other things, I couldn't make it at all. Fast forward a few years, my friend (whose family owned the camp) was killed in an accident. It took me a few years after that to finally realize I NEEDED that camp week with his family and friends, so I told my wife and kids, "I'm going this year no matter what!". Since then I've made it up to camp the third week of October every year and don't plan to miss another. In the early years, I remember there being 8-12 guys. Over the years that dwindled down and recently have been as low as 4 people that were up there the full week. I'm proud to say that this year we have 11 guys making the trip and it's going to be a blast. Now, some of them aren't the "originals" or family members but they will be after this year! Two of them have never experienced the UP backwoods camp life and we plan to make the best of it in hopes that they pick up on what it means to us and hope that it will for them as well. Today's camp is a little different than how we started, we have a battery powered shower instead of having to go down to the freezing cold creek and wash off and we have a much nicer heater than we used to, but still, no running water, electricity and best of all, NO CELL PHONE SERVICE!!!!

I guess my point is, I think it really depends on how you grew up as to what camp means to you. If you've never experienced it, you may not know what you are missing. Many of today's "hunters" are (in my opinion) way too focused on the score of a buck rather than the memories created by the camp life. I've shot some decent bucks on the farm, but NONE will compare to the small yearling doe I took my first year hunting by myself with a rifle that my dad stood over me and guided me through the gutting process or the "tree pointer" that my friend shot the year before his accident that we had to track what felt like 20 miles through the UP swamp and woods all night that would end up being the last one he ever took. I can honestly say that I wouldn't trade shooting the world record buck on my own land hunting by myself over shooting a small buck at the UP bow camp, or for that matter, not even seeing a deer all week at camp (which has been the case a few years!). The experiences shared and memories made at camp outweigh any 200"+ buck that I could harvest by myself.

Two life changing events in my life really made me understand what camp really means. I think it is important for us as a generation to help guide our younger generation into understanding the real meaning of "camp" life. I know as soon as I can get my son up there for the full week without missing too much school and sports he will be by my side and I will be able to share the stories that we can't tell when not at camp in hopes that he can carry on the tradition with his friends!

Good luck with your camp and if you are really passionate about keeping it going I'm sure there are others out there that you could invite to share your experience with and create new memories with. Some of my greatest "friends" I have today are a result of a week spent meeting them and getting to know them at camp.
 
#16 ·
Our deer camp died off 15 or so years ago.
At the time, we hunted around Baldwin.
There was a ridiculous amount of does' in those days and no for permits for state land, so we rarely got any deer, but it wasn't about that anyway really.
We'd spend 4 or 5 days up there, usually for gun season.
Drank a lot of beer, ate a lot of food..gave ourselves mild food poisoning once on spoiled camp chili lol!
I remember one time we had been up 3 or 4 days and everyone was getting kind of ripe with campfire smoke, stale beer,etc, so we all took baths in the Little South Branch Pere Marquette, that was COLD!
Our camp ended up dying off after one of my buddies passed away much to young and we started all getting really serious about wanting to kill deer instead of just partying.
That on top of a couple divorces amongst our members and a lot of kids born, we all started hunting different places closer to home.
I've got a ton of pictures and memories of deer camp and I definitely miss it sometimes.
If you like what you have, it's up to you to keep it alive.
Your camp isn't dead yet!
 
#18 ·
It's hard for me to identify with "the millennial's" but I guess I am one as I'll only be 30 this coming February.

I've never had an actual "deer camp" experience but I've always wanted one. All the deer I've taken over the years, around 12, have been on the same 60 acres my family has owned for decades down in southwest Michigan. While we didn't travel north to hunt, hunting is still a long standing tradition in our family.

Growing up I can remember waiting anxiously at my grandparents house to hear the gunshot ring out or see my dad and grandpa come walking in after dark to hear all about the evening's hunt. I was more excited to to turn 12 and be able to take hunter safety and go hunting than I was to turn 16 and drive (had to wait until 14 to deer hunt back then). I also remember watching Fred Trost on tv the week of opener and being excited about what that season might bring.

Hunting took a backseat for a few years after high school as I ventured out into the real world and got my feet settled underneath me. I always had intentions of setting trail cams and clearing shooting lanes and really getting a head start on the season, only to maybe get out a few sits or none at all. The fire has been re-kindled the past few years as I'm more settled now in both my career and home life.

Unfortunately, as my hunting has been ramping back up my dad's and grandfather's has been slowing down. My grandpa's eye's are not what they use to be and my father is beyond busy with the family business, plus he's disliking the cold weather more and more each year lol. While I have no children as of yet, I still get just as excited to hunt each year and will hold onto the family property for as long as I'm able. It is sad to see the end of an era coming, and knowing those fond childhood memories are long behind you. I'm just focusing on trying to get dad and grandpa out at least once more this year to sit in the box blind with me while I still can.

Thanks for letting me reminisce, helped kill some time here at work before I head out to the stand tonight. Good luck this season!
 
#19 ·
It's hard for me to identify with "the millennial's" but I guess I am one as I'll only be 30 this coming February.

I've never had an actual "deer camp" experience but I've always wanted one. All the deer I've taken over the years, around 12, have been on the same 60 acres my family has owned for decades down in southwest Michigan. While we didn't travel north to hunt, hunting is still a long standing tradition in our family.

Growing up I can remember waiting anxiously at my grandparents house to hear the gunshot ring out or see my dad and grandpa come walking in after dark to hear all about the evening's hunt. I was more excited to to turn 12 and be able to take hunter safety and go hunting than I was to turn 16 and drive (had to wait until 14 to deer hunt back then). I also remember watching Fred Trost on tv the week of opener and being excited about what that season might bring.

Hunting took a backseat for a few years after high school as I ventured out into the real world and got my feet settled underneath me. I always had intentions of setting trail cams and clearing shooting lanes and really getting a head start on the season, only to maybe get out a few sits or none at all. The fire has been re-kindled the past few years as I'm more settled now in both my career and home life.

Unfortunately, as my hunting has been ramping back up my dad's and grandfather's has been slowing down. My grandpa's eye's are not what they use to be and my father is beyond busy with the family business, plus he's disliking the cold weather more and more each year lol. While I have no children as of yet, I still get just as excited to hunt each year and will hold onto the family property for as long as I'm able. It is sad to see the end of an era coming, and knowing those fond childhood memories are long behind you. I'm just focusing on trying to get dad and grandpa out at least once more this year to sit in the box blind with me while I still can.

Thanks for letting me reminisce, helped kill some time here at work before I head out to the stand tonight. Good luck this season!

Don't need a deer camp to know the feeling a hunter gets during white-tail season! I'm in the same boat. Born in 88 too. Got a 18 month old and another one on the way. Luckily my wife is super supportive of me hunting so I can get out when I find the time. And I have a close 30 acre plot in Lapeer Co. my uncle lets me use. So like you the past few years I've been getting out more and more. Just wish I was able to get up there for deer camp! Good luck tonight!
 
#20 ·
Only a deer hunter knows the feeling…

I’ve only shot two deer in my life, both button bucks. One at the age of 17, one at the age of 19. Wounded three (hard to admit, even harder lessons to learn). Seen countless.

Even with a sorry record like that, I have been a deer hunter all of my life. Just as much as the guys who go out and shoot a record buck every year. Just as much as the guys who get enough meat to keep their freezers stocked with venison year-round. Here it sounds like I am trying to justify it to myself, but I am not. Am I envious of them? … absolutely, but I am still a Michigan deer hunter albeit no Ted Nugent. I am lucky to log 10 four hour sits from early antlerless, through January first, through archery, fire arm, and muzzle loader. It doesn’t matter how much or how little you hunt or how many deer you’ve bagged, if you’re a deer hunter you know the feeling, and it all starts somewhere.

I remember my dad leaving every November for that first week of opener. For Deer Camp. Talking to him on the phone periodically and without even saying hello asking with the excitement of a child, “Did you get one?!” … the answer was typically no, but he would report who saw what and who DID actually get one (typically Uncle Kelly or Tom). I got to hear about the snow too, it was always better if there was snow. How could there be snow up there if there was no snow down here?! This is how I grew up. Every November. Knowing my day to join Deer Camp would come soon… not knowing that deer camp was so much more than just a week or two of deer hunting.

I remember the feeling of my first sit. I remember the shack I sat in with my cousin. I can picture perfectly the stump we put apply jelly on for bait. I remember my dad sitting in the tree stand above us with his bow as we tried our best to sit still and be quiet. Being only eight years old, that was a poorly accomplished task. No deer were shot. Memories were made. I was officially a hunter.

I hunted periodically throughout my teen years. Typically, with a bow, mostly on my own. My dad was the kind of guy who just liked to sit in the woods rather than “shoot the deer, gut the deer, drag the deer” … you know, all that hard work that comes along with hunting. Even though I did not have much of a hunting mentor, I still knew I was a hunter, and when I was old enough, I would get to be a part of deer camp.

Now this camp, like countless other deer camps in Michigan started three generations back from me (me being the fourth), when my great grandpa and some friends bought 80 acres of rolling hills and swamp in the deep woods of Montmorency County circa late 1930’s. That’s when the stories started. These are the stories passed down every deer camper knows. Every deer camper has the stories. I never met my great grandpa, but I have heard his stories through memories of surviving deer campers. Stories told after good dinner and a case or ten of Blatz. Stories that can’t be told in any other place, at any other time. And these stories aren’t just stories… Only a deer hunter knows the feeling.

It’s something like nostalgia. Nostalgia that goes back a long long time. It is ancient. It tugs on the heart strings. And for this hunter, the feeling is not fading (it is a feeling that CANT fade), but the times ARE changing.

When I turned 18, I finally got my chance. I was the first member of the fourth generation of deer hunters at this particular deer camp. And if you’re still reading at this point, it is everything you know a deer camp to be. Hunting was just the half of it.

My fellow deer campers, the experienced “great white mighty hunters,” prided themselves on never missing a deer camp. One of my uncles and my grandpa missed a season or two when they were in the service. I think another member might have missed a season for the birth of his daughter. Other than that, these guys were die hards. It ran in their blood as it runs in mine. But times are changing and I am in a different generation than the deer campers of the past.

It is with a heavy heart and the purpose that I write this… the chain has been broken. For three generations, this deer camp has survived with unwavering commitment. November 15th was deer camp. End of story. No excuses. It was a part of life. In the past eleven years, I have made it to about four deer camps. There are three other fourth generation deer campers who attend this particular camp. They too attend sporadically… but like bagging a record buck on a yearly basis or successfully harvesting deer every year to keep your freezer full of meat, none of that matters. The death of a deer camp may mark the end of an era, but I am still a fourth-generation deer hunter and my son will be a fifth-generation deer hunter. Deer camp or no deer camp, only a deer hunter knows the feeling.

This story is dedicated to my late Great Grandpa Carol and Great Uncle Denny (RIP to the best damn cook anyone has ever known). My Grandpa Keesling, Great Uncle Jeff, my dad, Uncle Kelly, Uncle Mark, Uncle Kenny, Tom, and Jack (also a good cook, but defiantly no Denny). Thanks for teaching me what it means to be a deer hunter.

I would like to read some other stories from deer hunting millennials (or from other mighty hunting elders, the ones with the grey hair) about deer camp. Whether you have a similar story where an old deer camp is coming to an end. Or whether you attend a deer camp that is up and going strong with a new generation of deer hunters! I think the die-hard Michigan deer camps of the past are coming to an end with the Millennial generation, but I could well be wrong. I am not saying this is a bad thing, and I am definitely not looking to start a debate about us Millennials (so please keep all anti-Millennial jabs to angry Facebook posts, however good-hearted insults gladly welcomed – in fact one might say I feel entitled to them… HAH!). The times are changing, the times have changed, and I personally am not able to take the time off work like my blue-collar dad, grandpa, and great grandpa were able to. Anyways – happy hunting to everyone. I hope you’re feeling that incredible feeling only know to a Michigander during deer hunting season!
A deer hunter knows.

A very enjoyable and well written story. A toast to Carol, Denny and the rest of the boys gone ahead of us.

The names are different, but my people and your people are the same. Thanks for taking the time to share your memories.
 
#22 ·
Camp was the people.
I'm still hunting ,though no more tent camps in northern Mi. and the U.P..Those old hunters died or aged out.
Those I had later were just not the same. Missing old school " color" maybe.
Camp was planned all year and the early U.P. camps would be the second week of firearm.
Hell or high water , scheduled camp always trumped works schedule when a years notice was given.
No employer was willing to buy me a Ferrari to stay ,and none thought little enough of me to fire me over it. ( Despite threats not followed through on).
They did have some one who worked any other time in exchange for being told when I would not be working.
 
#36 ·
-well put, when the date of camp is known every year not many life situations (besides births and deaths) will keep us from attending- and about the northern mi tent camps dying out- as a 20 something I wouldn't have it any other way- sold the camper 3 years ago and traded for a canvas wall tent- I'm yearning to hear that crackle of the wood burner as I ponder which stand to sit in come morning- enjoy your camp boys!
 
#24 ·
I have seen the change in ownership and the mentality of the people visiting the small norther towns. I grew up down state but spent almost every weekend and a month every summer "Up North"

I regards to the deer camp I don't think they are dying but changing or evolving. As I said I grew up going up north but only a few uncles hunted, I grew up around it but never actively participated, that all changed in college, made some friends who hunted and got bit by the bug, about 5 years ago one of those buddies inherited a nice piece of property in the northern lower. There were 3 of us originally who made the trip up every year for at least opener, while one of us has moved away the 2 of us remaining still try and get together for at least a weekend. While we don't have the traditional camp I feel that some of that remains, as for the future maybe we will develop a camp maybe not, at the very least I look forward to the weekend every year even if its only a weekend.
 
#25 ·
I don't have the tradition of a deer camp that the OP has, as my dad was sickly and never hunted, but I picked hunting up learning through trial and error, everyone knows how it is, but hunted with the gang for about ten years before buying my homestead with a little huntable property that is my tradition.
The reason I'm writing this is my wife now takes off a week and comes up with me and something she said a while back which she now realizes is just how much goes into deer hunting, the work, the patience, the frustration, and the satisfaction and it's not just a 7 day thing but a months long effort to hopefully be successful.
 
#29 ·
I just turned 30. I never had the "up north deer camp" experience as by the time we grandkids came along the family had land down here in the southern lower and that's where we did all our hunting. But, it's no less important and no less an integral part of my life and the lives of all the men in my family. I ended up moving all over the country for work for several years but last fall I said to heck with it and moved back to Michigan. For good. Shortly after that I was able to buy some of the land that has always been in the family as my grandparents are slowing down and needed to downsize. I can't tell you how important it is to me to be able to hang onto the land, and the responsibility I feel based on how long my family has been here and what it's meant to us for so long. We will always hunt deer here, I can promise you that. This is our deer camp.
 
#34 ·
My Dad and his Buddys started going to the area were at now in the early 80's. My first year was 89 but that was during thanksgiving holiday. My first opener was in 90. I love it up there and the hunting was always good until about 5 or so years ago. I'm the youngest at 45 and there is only 4-5 of us that go. I've had Buddys that have gone in years past but I think that the drive is too long for them plus I stay for 10 days. I missed last year which was a first for me. I'm gonna try and go back this year but I might not be able to swing it. Life can get in the way sometimes which is unfortunate. Because there is nothing like a U.P. Deer camp.
 
#38 ·
I have been a member of several camps over the years. It's always been with family members thow. We started in Baraga in the early 80s in a big army tent with two heaters. We camped along the sturgeon river, it was awesome. My first year I connected on a really nice six point who was chasing a doe. We then moved down to Crystal Falls after talking with a couple friends that had been hunting there for several years. One look at there buck pole convinced us. The first year we set up camp down camp five rd and did that for several more years. The buck pole was always sagging but some of the guys were getting tired of the tent. So we bought a camp back up in Baraga. It isn't nothing special, just a one room shack with pitcher pump, propane lights and wood stove and slept six guys comfortably. Over the years guys stopped going up and the old shack still stands proud waiting for us to return. But unfortunately it will never be the same. So now a days I usually go to my cousins house in Crystal Falls and stay in a cabin he has out back. It has been totally remodeled with modern up dates, shower, kitchen washer and drier and tv. It's ruff I tell ya. I do miss the tent camp days the most, I can still hear the jokes, laughter and stories. I am the youngest in out group that owns the camp in Baraga, maybe I can convince my oldest son to start going up there so that tradition can keep going on.
 
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