Hunting Camp...

The weekend has come and gone and left an opportunity for a writing prompt, what truly makes hunting camp?  In particular, what makes one hunting camp different than another?  And to be even more precise, what are the differences in two hunting camps only 5.5 miles apart according to Google Earth?

You see, I am fortunate in life to have made many, many quality friends.  Some I've made through work, others via the college experience, while others simply were the trusted buddies that I grew up with.  Nonetheless, I was offered a multitude of hunting opportunities over this long weekend and I did my very best to accommodate all those who sequestered my presence.  Here is how one guy spent his weekend and has a few things to throw out there.



I chose to hunt black ducks Saturday morning with my father and Jab, a lifelong buddy who I consider my best friend.  From Jab's property, we set out our decoys on the bend and put Baby MoJo just at the water's edge.  A strong tailwind drove the black ducks in like rockets but a few were interested enough in the spread only to wish they had kept trucking.  The bright bluebird sky over the morning hours didn't help things much, but we still were able to get some shooting in and procure the first black duck of my 2011 season.

Following the morning of black duck action, I needed to finalize my plans for the evening.  I had already agreed to stay at Matt Diesel's camp, but had also recently been invited over to another camp just miles away.  Littlefield did give me enough notice to think about it and I honestly wished they had fallen on separate weekends.  However, it was a good problem to have...

I decided to visit Matt and Steve over at Upper Lead Mountain Pond for several hours and then catch up with Mahoney, my best man, and Littlefield at Beddington Lake around 9 p.m. as they would be trekking north from the mid-coast area.  Since far less people would be at Littlefield's estate, I would stay there and then head out Sunday morning for some shopping with my wife.  For a quick story about Mahoney and Littlefield, please click HERE...

So let's consider my observations...

One camp was purchased several years ago with a more rustic feel.  More shaded amongst the trees, it presents an outhouse, hand pumped water, and is loaded with outdoors memorabilia and nostalgia.  The members in attendance were as general observation: right of center politically, paper mill engineers and Maine Guides, lovers of country music who needed to offer the next hunting or fishing story.  The unit centered around the three Vose men who brought several other participants to share in the experience. 

This group did some shooting in a pit with an AR-15 frame rifle in .223 and some autoloader Ruger P95 in 9mm.  The pursuit of game had no limits, you simply chose what you intended to hunt.  Ruffed grouse, deer, rabbit, predators, and ducks where considered all fair chase.  An abundance of talk ranged from ethics in outdoorsmanship to professionalism as a guide to breaking down an AR-15.

The other camp was built several years ago with a more modern feel.  Found above a sunny, sandy beach, it presents all the amenities of home with power, phone, flat screen television, Direct TV, plumbing, showers, and well you get the idea.  With full insulation, this camp could certainly suffice as a year round residency.  The members from this camp were:  all of the same age, left of center politically, employed by Bank of America and friends who grew up together, video game junkies who also thrived on sports, sports, sports, & Texas Hold'em poker.  The cement holding this group together certainly is football and the fantasy element attached.  If you weren't talking sports, then you weren't part of the conversation.  It was nice to be able to participate in the football talk as I've entered the ranks of fantasy football and if I must say, not doing too bad...

This group was far less formal at the range.  An unofficial skeet competition that I won provided some excitement but the real victor was Littlefield who out shot Mahoney in the second round.  The contest was soon followed by shooting my .44 magnum Ruger Super Redhawk at some wafer board targets that resembled Santa Claus and his reindeer.  Realizing we had an abundance of skeet round, the 12 gauge shotguns all found serious action as the North Pole crew was sprayed with skeet shot.  Coinciding the fun, ear protection, instruction, and efficiently practiced proper shooting etiquette made for a safe climate.  The gravel pit was left in great shape as we attempted to leave no trace. 

This hunting party was hellbent on chasing deer and spread all the levels of scent control, allurement scents, and potential affects of success on the table.  They discussed the area they intended to hunt and how they intended to pursue the quarry.

So what separates these two camps in how we regard hunting camp?  Nothing, the purpose of hunting camp is just that.  Camaraderie, time together, and strengthening the bonds we share in this game called life makes camp.  My only game scored this past weekend was a duck that had no connection to either camp, and at print only one ruffed grouse had been taken by the Upper Lead Hunting Crew.

So here's to Matt, Steve, Steven, Preston, John, Chris, Littlefield, Mahoney, Elmer, Vern, Jab, and Dad for making this year's hunting camp a good time even though I couldn't enjoy all of the stories, laughs, and jokes shared any one of them for the entire duration.  Both camps demonstrated what hunting should be and I'm fortunate to have been a part of both experiences amongst brethren...