The Mighty Hunt

I truly hope I blogged about Deer Camp the first time I went...was it three years ago? Wow, my little blog has spanned four years or so. Who would have thought?

My first trip to Deer Camp was epic. It was a couple of days spent in a cabin in the north woods of Minnesota, drinking with my dad and uncles, while watching Deadwood. We fit an entire season of Deadwood into one weekend.

I've been trying to get back to Deer Camp since that first trip. I was the first of my siblings to attend, both of my brothers had passed on their opportunities. I waited YEARS for my invite. My dad assumed that since I didn't like hunting, I wouldn't enjoy Deer Camp.

I have no problems shooting things. I feel no remorse for taking an animal's life. (I wonder how much PETA will increase traffic to my blog...) But who really enjoys sitting quietly in the woods waiting for an animal to walk up to you? In Minnesota, in November? If I was somehow guaranteed to see a deer, maybe I wouldn't mind. But if I'm going to freeze my stones off, I had BETTER see a deer.

Anyways, Deer Camp isn't about the hunting. For me, it's the male bonding thing. I never, never, NEVER see my uncles and cousins. We used to live close to them, before my family moved to Mora when I was in the first grade. Since then, it has always been years between visits. And it's not just about the family.

The food is incredible. My dad is a bit of a nut, he would always take pictures of the spread. I saw pictures of Italian Night and Salute To Pork for years before I actually got to try them. It's a two meal system, huge traditional breakfast (eggs and meat) and huge supper complete with hors d'oeuvres.

The food is everything I hoped it would be. Take all of that and douse it with a lot of booze and manly things on TV, and you have yourself a weekend. My dad is a schlitz kind of guy. The good folks at Deer Camp used to send him a detailed list of stuff to bring: one case of rolling rock, bottles. Buttershots. Aftershock. Specific quantities, almost all in bottles. It wasn't my dad's style, but in Deer Camp you follow the rules.

The first time I went, I learned what feeding the cat was (I'll give you a hint, it happens when you drink a little too too much). This time, the Captain (the guy who owns the cabin and does the cooking) was going to throw away the leftover beans on Salute To Pork Night. He offered them around, and there were no takers. As he was about to dump them in the garbage, my cousin Tim yelled "Tom will eat them."

I didn't have a choice. I forced a huge pile of beans to join the pork ribs, beans and giant pork chop already residing in my belly. I ate them with the big serving spoon. I was rewarded with much respect from the other men.

Finally, the entertainment is top notch at Deer Camp. The first trip we watched the entire first season of Deadwood. This time, I caught two college football games (impressive showing against SDSU, Gophers), Gran Torino, and Observe and Report. Watching Gran Torino for the first time in a room full of drunk farmers is not an experience I will forget.

I lobbied for years to get my invitation back to deer camp. Finally my parents agreed and bought me a plane ticket home for my birthday. It was worth it.

And I got to see a girl, and my niece and nephew while I was back. Best birthday present I can recall!