The Hunting Camp From 2006 until 2010 my father, uncle, and I were all members of a hunting club. Although we were there to hunt, it was likely the smallest aspect of the trip. We spent more time around a campfire than we did in any tree stand. The camp, for me anyways, was broken into three major areas: the hunting grounds, the campgrounds, and the camper itself. It was in these places that I have some of my fondest memories that I enjoy revisiting. It was quite enjoyable for years, then for various reasons they allowed dog running and it completely changed the entire hunting camp. Dog running is where trained dogs are released to chase deer, hogs, and sometimes turkey from where they were to where the hunter is. It really ruined the land for most of the hunters. To the confusion of many, the hunting ground is where I spent the least amount of time while at the hunting camp. There were 1,750 acres of land to hunt. It was mostly pine trees, as the ground was leased from a timber farm. Nice, orderly pine trees that were lined up like soldiers in formation flanked either side of the Georgia clay roads. Scouting was probably my favorite activity in the hunting ground. Between hunting seasons we would be spend days walking and observing. Eyes were held wide open looking for scraped trees; rutted up soil, hoof prints, or small piles of scat. Even when paying attention and looking for scat, it always seemed most likely to end up on the bottom of a shoe, to my constant confusion. Once the dog runners showed up this completely changed. It was not the trees or the Georgia clay that changed, but rather the process. Little scouting needed to be done for dog runners. Other members began leaving and tree stands no longer dotted the path. Box stands hand fallen over on their sides, with nobody to pick them up. The woods woke up differently. Before the dog hunters it would be sitting in a stand, well before it got light, and the first thing heard would be the birds. The morning would begin with the hoot of owls, announcing the end of their nightly feast. Following that would be the chirps of small birds, with larger birds slowly coming more into the concert. Trees would rustle as squirrels, raccoons, and opossums would run through. Heavy footsteps of boar, deer, bears, and panthers may be heard below. The forest was a grand orchestra; birds and other small animals were the woodwinds and strings, tweeting, whistling, and humming along. The larger beasts were the brass and percussion. The entire orchestra came together in a crescendo that rose with the sun. It was my favorite part of hunting. It reminded me how young and small I was. I stood between trees that were under 100 years old, but the land I stood on, the species I stood among, and the ancient orchestra I listened to were hundreds of thousands, and millions of years old. With the dog runners the forest woke up with the small birds, a quick rustle of trees, then the barking of dogs as they chased their prey through the woods. There it ended abruptly. The campground was my favorite
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We bought it for $400, with the majority of its value being the refrigerator. The leaky ceiling and mold were free. We slowly upgraded it as we put it under a carport to reduce the leaking and redid the plumbing. Eventually we could both shower and use the restroom without having to run outside. Showering was a tedious task though. The center of the shower’s base was fairly soft, so to reduce chance of falling through we stood on the edges. It worked well enough. Hours of jokes, meals, and movies all took place in the camper. We stocked the cabinets with hunting gear, medicine, and whatever else was necessary. We had sketched projects of building a porch similar to what other members had, and we were going to build bunk beds. Plans for our little camper were getting exciting. They never even had a chance to be a reality. Instead, we packed up everything we had and left. It became an empty shell. Every sign of life or evidence of our existence were cleaned away as we
We bought it for $400, with the majority of its value being the refrigerator. The leaky ceiling and mold were free. We slowly upgraded it as we put it under a carport to reduce the leaking and redid the plumbing. Eventually we could both shower and use the restroom without having to run outside. Showering was a tedious task though. The center of the shower’s base was fairly soft, so to reduce chance of falling through we stood on the edges. It worked well enough. Hours of jokes, meals, and movies all took place in the camper. We stocked the cabinets with hunting gear, medicine, and whatever else was necessary. We had sketched projects of building a porch similar to what other members had, and we were going to build bunk beds. Plans for our little camper were getting exciting. They never even had a chance to be a reality. Instead, we packed up everything we had and left. It became an empty shell. Every sign of life or evidence of our existence were cleaned away as we