Old Deer Hunters

Their hands are as rough as a fresh scrape and they’ve held babies and shaken men. Drag rope tired eyes have witnessed joy and loved ones crying in the hall. The lines on their face are creek bed deep, their hair as grey as a sun bleached Confederate tunic and their ears too big for their head. (Your ears never stop growing by the way.) Every deer camp has an old deer hunter, or should.

A month away from having walked this dirt for half a century, I’m still in the segment of the population who can talk about old deer hunters and not be talking about myself. But, with only a few weeks left before that opportunity drops behind the hillside, like a full moon in a hurry to hide its brightness, I must do it now. So, with no disrespect intended and with deepest apologies to all old deer hunters, like my dad, like your dad and maybe, like you, here is their anthem. And, some advice.

Old deer hunters drive slow and move slow and but know how to properly position a dramatic pause in conversation. On occasion they’re arrogant, sometimes moderately grumpy but always right and stubborn about being that way. They go to bed early and have to get up and pee before the whiskey bottle is empty. They rise before anyone else but they’re always the last to get to the woods. They don’t like hunting in the rain, getting wet or lacing their boots unless its an absolute necessity. Some have too much gear and others not near enough. They lose things and sometimes look bewildered. Coffee is their lifeblood and absence of the liquid, no matter how vile, will cause the same panic as misplaced blood pressure medication. They see things differently, describe things poetically and don’t care whether you like them or not.

It’s not all bad. Along with bad knees and senior discounts, age brings with it wisdom and, both a lack and abundance of patience. They appreciate a fox squirrel in a chestnut tree, turkeys along a fence line, old westerns, hickory nuts on the moss and a sunrise until late afternoon. (There is a lesson to be learned there.) They relish a saltshaker, their coffee cup and bread. And butter. Time is their friend, when it drags by. And they always look for the good (the comfortable) seat in the woods, even if it’s not in sight of that well used rub line.

Like an old farmhouse, old deer hunters have lots of stories. You’ll have to wonder about the tales the farmhouse conceals and sometimes about the ones old deer hunters hide. Old deer hunters have followed more tracks than cute girls you’ve chased, they’ve touched more antler than you’ve seen and done things you’re dreams cannot conjure. Manipulative discussion can often pull gems from the mine. Start by asking for advice and you can learn how little they know about you, because old deer hunter assumptions about younger bucks tend to be much shallower than a geological probe. This is because they are fully – if not completely – tempered by their early explorations. (Old men hard remember hard lessons.) Put on a hard hat, roll up your sleeves; sometimes it can take both pick and shovel to dig into their past but that’s where the jewels reside. But, when they see you’re listening…

You might hear a story about a pet great horned owl, ordered from Field & Stream magazine, to be used as a crow decoy, that lived off pigeons shot at a diary farm, until one day it killed the neighbor’s cat. You might hear about being on safari in Rhodesia, during the war, armed with a Colt 1911, and operating under strict instructions to shoot and shoot a lot if the command was given. You might hear about sewing a rattlesnake’s mouth shut, shooting a deer and never putting a hole in its hide, the biggest snapping turtle that was not shot or how a young man proposed to his sweetheart on a deer stand.

Take and old deer hunter to deer camp. Your reward will be found somewhere between nostalgia and deliverance. For you, the sun will shine warmer on your face, the air will smell crisper and the ground will feel firmer. It will also make you genuinely appreciate that you can still climb the mountain to the high stand and the next time you see a fox squirrel running a rail fence, you’ll smile. Someday, you’ll be an old deer hunter, if you’re fortunate someone who is not might overlook your idiosyncrasies and take you to deer camp.

Take and old deer hunter to deer camp. Maybe, just maybe, if you listen deeply, below the general conversation and reminiscing, you’ll learn something before its too late.

I did.