Duckmen Deer Camp house
Below is a page out of my memoirs for 2003-2004
Old Henry was a short man by modern standards, standing 5’ 5†his skin was like weathered leather from an old pair of boots. He wore a pair of cover alls that faded to almost white in color. Walked with a slight limp and a somewhat humped over gape.
Now pushing for his 82 birthday he sat there next to the camp fire stirring the coals with a stick. The night was bitter cold with temps in the low 20’s. He looked up at me and smiled with the few remaining teeth he had and said you boys have some knowledge of how to hunt but you’re a long way from being good at it. I smiled back thinking to myself “yeah old man we could teach you old timers a thing or two about hunting.â€
He started a laugh that sound like a cross between a cackle and a cough. Then looked at me and said “I can tell from that look you gave me you feel different.†I told him no disrespect intended but things today are different than they were when you were in your prime and I would venture to say that me and the boys are just about as good as you find these days and probably in your time too. He started to laugh all over again. All I could do is smile cause I knew the old timer had seen plenty and as with all sportsman they believe they are the best at what they do.
He looked at me and asked, you willing to take a hunt with me tomorrow and let me show a thing or two? Reluctantly I agree so as not to hurt his feelings. I was there to hunt and baby sitting an old man was not what I wanted to spend my morning doing but I thought to myself that I too may reach that age and hopefully some young man will see fit to put up with my existence for a hunt or two.
Next morning I wake up at 4:00 am dress and start to make coffee when Henry stuck his head in the door and said “I have coffee on the fire out here come-onâ€. He had arrived at 3:00am and stoked the fire, made coffee and put a couple biscuits near the fire for warming. We sat by the fire and I pored a cup of what looked like watered down mud. Grains all mixed into the coffee and so strong it almost took my breath when I took a sip. I said dang Henry this stuff is strong! He looked up as he stood over the fire warming his hands and said I tried to thin it down fer ya but I ain’t very good a guessing how much to water down a good coffee, I like mine a lot stronger than this. He then smiled and started his cackle all over again. Reaching down he picked up two golf ball size rocks that were near the coals, rapped them in a cloth and stuck them in his pockets.
He said I thank ya for going with me this morning I’m a thinking I want some deer meat and I don’t have too many years left to pass on what I know and each time I find a man willing to learn I’m a willing to show him. I thought to myself well if nothing else this will be entertaining.
We left the camp in his truck. It was a 1948 GMC six cylinder with a starter knob that you pushed to crank it on the floor board, column shift and still in decent shape for a truck of that many years old. The heater blew Luke warm air.
He said I’m a taking ya down to little river hollow where ya been hunting the last couple days and show ya how to kill that buck ya been chasing all week. I did a little chuckle and told him “OKâ€. As we road down these back roads I watched him and thought how hard life has been on him and how he seemed to live it with little to no remorse. He was a strong man for his age and I asked him if he hunted much when he was younger and he told me he hunted all his life. When he was a young man he hunted to feed his family. Told me back then he was as hard as a lighter knot and could hunt for days on end for those few deer that we had back then. It wasn’t like it is now son. We didn’t have deer everywhere and those we did see were big time wild. Those old boys would take off to the next county if’n they caught wind of ya or heard ya comin. He told me his dad was a share farmer and lived off of what he grew. They had an Indian family that came twice a year to help plant and pick the crops and it was the son of the Indian helper that taught him how to chase these weary deer. Said he was the best friend I ever had. He died in WW II.
He told me what I’m about to teach you is what he taught me and with practice you can be as good at deer hunting as you want to be.
When we arrive at our put in he stepped out of the truck and took out an old 30-30 Winchester that had no bluing left on the finish. The wood was so weathered it looked whitewashed. He put two shells in the gun and looked at me as if to say com-on boy.
I load my gun and followed him to the woods edge. He showed me several hand signals telling me what each meant and said not to say a word or shine a light of any kind. I asked him are we not going in till it is light enough to see and he smiled and told me to close my eyes and not open them till he told me to. Unsure of what was about to take place I stood there for almost 5 minutes asking every now and then if it was long enough and he told me “boy I’ll let ya know when. All the time I was thinking this was a trick setup by the guys I hunt with and would be a big laugh from them all when I get back. Finally he said open your eyes and look at me. When I did he told me that I should be able to see all that I need to see and to look at the ground and woods only not to look toward the sky and my vision will improve as we move. To my amazement it did. To the point that I could make out trees, paths, ditches and almost all that I looked at. I told him as we were leaving that, that was a neat trick, He turned to me and said “aint no trick, Not another word from this point on and to walk as quiet as possible. I trailed behind the old man and could hardly hear him, seems the harder I tried to move quietly the louder I got. The cold was cutting trough me an I was wearing top of the line cold weather gear, layered, and with all I felt I needed and all he was wearing was his normal old clothes and a cloth jacket that looked older than I was.
We slipped through the woods from point to point moving very slow and stopping countless times to listen to nothing, Well at least that is what I was thinking. We crossed a small creek that came near the top of my rubber boots and I thought to myself how that old man could stand having wet feet since he only had on ankle top work boots.
We arrive to the top of a ridge and he signaled me to stop and he slowly moved forward for another 10 to fifteen yards. He squatted down and I followed suit and sat listening and waiting. He took a small stick and broke it and the sound seemed to carry. I thought to myself well that should take care of any deer within hearing distance. As the light seemed to brighten from the sun just making an appearance beyond the horizon he reached into his pocket and pulled what looked like a water balloon. He then removed cotton balls and the rocks that he had in his pocket. He placed the cotton ball on the ground, removed the rock from the cloth and laid it on top of the cotton and proceeded to poor what was in the balloon onto the rock. I could see the steam rise and noticed that the wind was pushing it away from us into the darkness. The old man replace the rock and balloon into his pocket and slowly took a couple steps forward and threw the cotton ball high into the air and made a sound that sounded much like the air leaving a ball after being stabbed by an ice pick. PPSSSSST BURRRTTTT BURRRRTT!
I heard a lung in the distance and a reply of BURRT BURRRT. A snap of a twig and another BURRRT BURRRT. The old man raised his gun and looking back at me pointed to our left. I knew the sound came from our front and the twig also came from that direction and didn’t know why he wanted me to watch the direction he pointed but I did as told.
By this time I could make out everything around me as the light had gotten to the point where I felt the deer should be moving. Then Henry pointed for me to sit down facing the direction I was to watch, making the sign to be quite. I sat there thinking of how cold I was and as I look over at him I could see steam rising off his legs where he had walked through the creek and thought to myself how he could possible stand it.
At that time Henry made a motion for me to look harder in the direction he wanted me looking and made a motion that a deer was there. I studied every inch and never saw any sign of a deer. After several minutes he got my attention and raised his 30-30 pointing in the direction that he had told me to watch. With a crack of the gun I watched the bushes thrash about and heard the old man say that there be a good-en.
Sure enough it was a good one. It was a 14 point that looked to be a 140 class deer.
I moved to him and as the old man approached he knelt down and gave thanks for the life that he took and I sat there in awe of all that I had seen. Truly there is more to this than I have been led to believe. The old man looked to me and said this is what ya been chasing boy. But it took an Old man to get it. With a cackle he smacked me on the back and told me to get busy doing what he brought me for. I asked him what that might be and he said dragging my deer out to the truck. I could still hear him cackle as he made his way through the woods back to his truck.
On our way back to camp I was feeling somewhat amazed and let down at the same time. Henry looked over to me and said Dan I took that deer on his own terms. I tried to give you that shot but boy ya couldn’t see him could ya? I said no sir and never did until after you shot. That is because you were looking for a deer and not for deer sign. What do you mean I ask and he tells me that when you go to another mans house you see how they live, and from that you acquire an opinion of that person and of their habits. Deer are no different, Ya are in their house and by seeing how they live ya can acquire knowledge of their habits. Well I somewhat understand what your talking about but I can’t read the signs of a deer and know their habits, maybe if I was a deer I could. Henry smiled and said exactly. That is what I’m gonna learn ya to be. Ya listen to me and I will a learn ya all that I been taught. This is my way of living through you. After all it’s what ya leave in this world that people remember ya for, not what ya take with ya.
I spent the next week with Henry learning all I could. I got tickled many times at the old man when I would ask why and he would reply cause ya just know. I would say no Henry you just know I’m trying to learn. He would crack that toothless smile at me and say no son ya already know ya just don’t understand why. Sure enough after a week of training with Henry I ventured out on my own and using his tactics I landed a nice eight point. One of the largest deer I have every killed in my life. Henry was as proud for me as I was for myself. He said all that I ask is that you remember me when you are hunting and remember Jed the one that taught me. By doing this we will live forever in your heart and our sprits will be satisfied that we left a part of ourselves in others. Continue to study and learn and pass this here gift on to another so that they too will remember the gift that we all have shared.
On my ride home I relived the week at camp with Henry knowing that what I saw was an Old man with limited education that knew more about the world than I could possibly understand. A man can’t live in the city and know the woods like a man that lives in them.
Henry had laughed at me when I told him I was a duck hunter not a deer hunter and he said in front of all my peers that no man is a special one kind of game hunter. In order to call yourself a hunter you must know how to hunt all game. Being the best at hunting one game only makes you a good duck hunter. To open ya self up to hunting all game will take ya to a level only you and God could understand. God didn’t give ya just ducks to hunt, he gave ya a world of animals to take. To be a true hunter a man has to know them all. Don’t limit your self to one or two. The world has much more to offer.
I understood where he was coming from, So I will learn all there is to outdoor lore from this day forward. It is important to me that I see more than a tree, a bush and a stream. I now have a need to know what kind of tree or bush it is, when its fruits are available and weather a stream is inbound or outbound. I will from now on notice how the sun and shadow are shaped such a way as to creates art on the ground. I will for ever taste the flavors of the wind and the smell of the water as it flows fresh.
I have grown a great deal this season. I would put this as near about the best season I have ever had. Because now I’m finally starting to understand, thanks to an Old man in blue jean coveralls and a toothless smile.
My 8 Point thanks to Henry
My rare PieBald deer I took the day after the buck
