After having lived away from Texas for over seven years, my wife and I have been blessed to be back in God's country raising our boys for the past three. Of all the experiences we've shared during that time, some of my most treasured moments with my oldest son have occurred on a 500 acre tract of land outside of Mason, TX. A demanding work environment combined with frequent moves make it difficult to find consistency in life at times, but I've discovered that even something as small as an annual trip is enough to build a child's love for the outdoors.
I started taking my son with me to deer camp when he was four. New camo, hot-hands (aka “bean bags”), and lots of snacks made for much anticipation as we made the four-hour trek North. The week prior we were shopping at Academy, and as we passed by an aisle display I heard “You know Dad, I don’t have any boots like yours”; an hour later we had a heavier cart, a lighter wallet, and big smiles on our faces as we headed home to show Mom. We spent four days off the grid during our first visit to camp; bunk beds, fire pits, and ninja turtle long underwear insured we had a well-rounded first experience.
As the days passed the DVD player became a more frequent ally in the stand to buy time as a young hunter realized that we weren’t just going to shoot the first thing that walked out. On day three, the adults decided that someone needed to shoot something to keep stoking the fire; that evening we had the skinning rack loaded up and our fledgling hunter was busy bringing smores up from camp “just in case we got hungry while cleaning our deer.”
Two years later December finds us back in our “favorite place in the world”; a few trips have occurred between then and now, each building on the previous experience to solidify a desire to be outside enjoying God’s creation. We’re now shooting everything left-handed after Dad discovered a strong cross-dominance the previous year. Campfires are still the best, and the “student population” at camp has continued to grow.
We’ve invested a lot of sweat equity into camp improvement and have been graciously been offered a buck tag for the season since we’ll be moving again next summer. During our second day in camp my son points to the field aging guide on the wall of the cabin and says “You know what Dad, we should shoot one like that” alluding to the mature deer on the chart. With a big smile I affirmed his selection and we headed out the door to one of the prettiest spots on the ranch to do just that.
It didn’t take long for the deer to filter in after the feeder threw that evening, we passed the binos back and forth in order to gain consensus on which buck would be a good “shooter”. Of the available options there was a single buck that stood out amongst the others. He didn’t have the biggest rack but he certainly had the heaviest body and had asserted himself as the dominant buck on that section of the ranch; a month before we had watched him whip other bucks handily during pre-rut activity. We patiently waited for a shot opportunity, and when the moment presented itself Dad’s aim was true. Fist pumps and high fives ensued, and a few minutes later we had our hand's on our first buck!
That evening we had the camp to ourselves; we quartered the deer while sharing a Coke as an accompaniment of coyotes sang in the background. As the night air began to chill we exchanged stories about deer camp, reminiscing good times and talking about what the future might hold. As we prepare for yet another move this summer I’m saddened by the fact that it’s going to be a while before I can bring my boys back to this place but I’m overjoyed at what I’ve been able to introduce them to in this short period of time. If you’ve made it this far, thanks for following along. I feel that sometimes I don’t fully appreciate things until I can put them on paper. I’ve been a member of this site for almost a decade and it’s still my go to place for sharing my passion about the outdoors.
I started taking my son with me to deer camp when he was four. New camo, hot-hands (aka “bean bags”), and lots of snacks made for much anticipation as we made the four-hour trek North. The week prior we were shopping at Academy, and as we passed by an aisle display I heard “You know Dad, I don’t have any boots like yours”; an hour later we had a heavier cart, a lighter wallet, and big smiles on our faces as we headed home to show Mom. We spent four days off the grid during our first visit to camp; bunk beds, fire pits, and ninja turtle long underwear insured we had a well-rounded first experience.
As the days passed the DVD player became a more frequent ally in the stand to buy time as a young hunter realized that we weren’t just going to shoot the first thing that walked out. On day three, the adults decided that someone needed to shoot something to keep stoking the fire; that evening we had the skinning rack loaded up and our fledgling hunter was busy bringing smores up from camp “just in case we got hungry while cleaning our deer.”
Two years later December finds us back in our “favorite place in the world”; a few trips have occurred between then and now, each building on the previous experience to solidify a desire to be outside enjoying God’s creation. We’re now shooting everything left-handed after Dad discovered a strong cross-dominance the previous year. Campfires are still the best, and the “student population” at camp has continued to grow.
We’ve invested a lot of sweat equity into camp improvement and have been graciously been offered a buck tag for the season since we’ll be moving again next summer. During our second day in camp my son points to the field aging guide on the wall of the cabin and says “You know what Dad, we should shoot one like that” alluding to the mature deer on the chart. With a big smile I affirmed his selection and we headed out the door to one of the prettiest spots on the ranch to do just that.
It didn’t take long for the deer to filter in after the feeder threw that evening, we passed the binos back and forth in order to gain consensus on which buck would be a good “shooter”. Of the available options there was a single buck that stood out amongst the others. He didn’t have the biggest rack but he certainly had the heaviest body and had asserted himself as the dominant buck on that section of the ranch; a month before we had watched him whip other bucks handily during pre-rut activity. We patiently waited for a shot opportunity, and when the moment presented itself Dad’s aim was true. Fist pumps and high fives ensued, and a few minutes later we had our hand's on our first buck!
That evening we had the camp to ourselves; we quartered the deer while sharing a Coke as an accompaniment of coyotes sang in the background. As the night air began to chill we exchanged stories about deer camp, reminiscing good times and talking about what the future might hold. As we prepare for yet another move this summer I’m saddened by the fact that it’s going to be a while before I can bring my boys back to this place but I’m overjoyed at what I’ve been able to introduce them to in this short period of time. If you’ve made it this far, thanks for following along. I feel that sometimes I don’t fully appreciate things until I can put them on paper. I’ve been a member of this site for almost a decade and it’s still my go to place for sharing my passion about the outdoors.
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