When I was young -16 or so - and the opening day of the deer hunt started to get close, excitement seemed to fill the air. Fall was here in all her splendid colors. The trees turned a million colors of gold, red, and orange. The apples, corn on the cob, fresh tomatoes, and squash were ready to be picked and eaten. My mouth would start to water for Mother Hubbard Squash with butter all over it. Oh, how I loved to eat fresh vegetables right out of the garden.
I still remember how excited I would get when fall finally arrived because I knew it also brought the deer hunt. But, it wasn’t just me that got excited about the deer hunt; my whole family looked forward to this time. I grew up in a small town and that excitement was felt throughout the whole town. At school my friends were all talking about where their family was going to hunt and about the deer they had spotted. We had an annual ‘Deer Hunter’s Ball’ and the Lion’s Club sold raffle tickets for a new gun. The money was used to buy something nice for our town. We even, believe it or not, got two days of school off so we could go and enjoy the hunt with our families.
There was always a statewide ‘Big Buck Contest’ where the 10 biggest bucks were displayed in Zinick’s Sporting Goods Store, but the number one buck - the biggest - won a new jeep. Heck, even Las Vegas got in on the action and offered big prizes for the biggest and best buck. Way back then, the deer hunt was probably one of the biggest holidays of the year.
As a kid, I remember how long the night was before it was time to get up and go across the street to my Grandpa Wintch’s house to eat breakfast and get ready to go. Around that table would be both of my grandpas, my dad, aunt, uncles, and the cousins who were old enough to go. The excitement in that little kitchen created enough static electricity to run the lights in the whole house. While we ate, we discussed where we were going to go, which place we thought would be the best this year, taking into account Mother Nature (how cold or hot it was, and how much rain or snow we had gotten), all the big bucks we were hoping to see, and all the big bucks we shot in the years past.
How I loved all those deer hunting stories. Even though I knew most of them by heart - in fact, I think I could tell some of my dad’s hunting stories better than he could - I never got tired of them. It was a joyous occasion. After eating we would pack our guns, our meat sacks, and our lunch into the trucks and off we went. I remember it seemed like the whole town was up and on the mountain hours before daylight. It was like a train with nuclear waste had wrecked and the whole town had to be evacuated.
As the truck we were in was heading for one of the four or five places my dad liked to hunt (all of which back then, had quite a few big bucks), I knew that wherever we were going we would have the best chances of getting a big buck because we had discussed and planned where we wanted to go. My dad was our fearless leader. He would tell everyone where they were to go and who would be the walkers and who would be the sitters.
I was always a walker as were my cousins and some of my uncles. My two grandpas would be sitters. When I got to the place where I was to walk, I knew I had to wait for everyone else to get into his place. There is no doubt in my mind even today, that the longest half hour of the whole year was then…standing there in the twilight of opening morning of the deer hunt waiting for the sun to come up. I imagined that someone must have had a rope around the sun and was pulling it back. I still remember all the sights and smells of my surroundings, the excitement and anticipation, the beauty of the morning, the hope of seeing a big buck, the family, the hunt, and the tradition. Those days were some of the best days of my life.
As I look back in my scrapbook, I can still remember what happened on those hunts and I can still relive each one over and over again. Some of those bucks are hanging on my den wall, and I’m looking at them right now as I pen these very words. I can remember going home with two or three big bucks that had been ‘killed’ - to be politically correct we have to say ‘harvested’ now - by my family that day. It was a great day, a special day in my life never to be forgotten. Back in town I would run down to my cousins and my friends to see who had gotten the biggest buck and hear all the hunting stories of the day. We even told a few lies to make the stories a little better. I was living a set way of life, a family tradition, a reunion of loved ones, and life’s true treasures.
Boy, have things changed!! Those days are gone never to return again!! The ‘Deer Hunter’s Ball’ is no more; the Lion’s Club doesn’t sell tickets on a gun anymore. In fact, the Lion’s Club doesn’t even roar anymore. I feel lucky to even own a gun let alone win one in a raffle. School is no longer letting our kids out for the deer hunt. In fact, if you as a father take your son or daughter out of school to go hunting with you, there is always the fear that their grades will be docked or they will have to spend time after school making it up. No business can give a prize away - even if it is their own money, time or business - for the biggest buck because there is some kind of a law preventing it with the fear of receiving a big fine if you do so.
Towns for the most part have lost that excitement, closeness and anticipation of the hunt. Most families no longer hunt together. Those hunting memories and family bonds are being lost. Our sons and daughters are not experiencing the excitement and anticipation of the hunt. They have never seen or felt the ‘longest half hour’ of the year. Very few big buck stories are told for them to hear and memorize. Friends and cousins are no longer hunting together and making hunting memories that last a lifetime. A way of life has disappeared. What has happened to this great tradition? In a nutshell, I believe it is because we are a people living in ‘fear’, and because of this ‘fear’ we have stopped doing what we love. Even when we say, “To heck with it, I am going to take my family camping, hunting, or fishing like the ‘good ole days’,” it’s almost impossible because of all the taxes, fines, fees, laws, rules, and regulations.
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From
the Dec/Jan. 2005 Issue of Hunting Illustrated Magazine - posted Jan. 6, 2005
