Deer Camp Clowns Make Great Memories for any Hunting Club
Day 5: Where Did Outdoor Writer J. Wayne Fears Put Deer Stomach Content?
Editor’s Note: Every hunting club I’ve ever belonged to has had a camp clown – the guy each person in the club can tell at least one funny story about and always smile when he mentions the man’s name. Fortunately I’ve hunted with and shared great memories with some of the world’s best deer camp clowns. Space won’t allow me to mention them all, but here’s a few.
 J. Wayne Fears and myself always have believed that hunters should enjoy deer camp. If other hunters don’t have fun at deer camp, then J. Wayne and I feel morally obligated to change the situation. At one camp, a friend of ours, Nick, took his first buck with a bow in the early part of deer season. He’d shot the buck at first light but didn’t find the buck until about 10:00 am. When he returned to camp, he knew that the ritual of the camp meant he’d have blood smeared on his face and have to leave it there until after lunch.  But Nick said emphatically, “Nobody’s going to put deer blood on my face!” In a hunting camp, hunters view a statement like this as disrespectful and a call to action. You just don’t challenge a deer camp and all the men there by saying, “Nobody’s going to put deer blood on my face.” That’s the same insult that a 90-pound weakling delivers on the beach, when he sees a 350-pound defensive lineman for a professional football team sunning with his girlfriend on a beach towel and deliberately walks-up and kicks sand on the football player and his girlfriend. However, everyone tried to let the, “Nobody’s going to put deer blood on my face,” comment slide without a comeback. Since Nick never had field-dressed a deer, Fears and I began the process.
“I think you hit this deer a little back, Nick,” Fears said as he opened up the deer’s stomach and chest. “Yeah, look here. Your arrow got into the stomach and cut the stomach open. Golly! I don’t believe what this deer’s been eating. Look here, Nick, this deer’s got corn in this stomach. I believe you were hunting over a corn pile.” Nick defended himself quickly and explained, “No, sir, I haven’t been hunting over a corn pile.  You won’t find any corn in that deer.” Fears responded with, “Well, you look right here and tell me what this yellow stuff is in the stomach.” Wanting to prove his case, Nick bent low to look into the deer’s open stomach. Fears grabbed a double hand full of stomach content and hit Nick right in the face with it. The whole camp broke-up in laughter. Nick fell on his back like someone had shot him with both barrels of a 3-1/2-inch Magnum that delivered buckshot. He spit and coughed, went to some nearby bushes, threw-up and finally washed-off his face. Everyone laughed so hard that Nick couldn’t get mad.
Once he finally composed himself, he asked Fears, “Why did you do that?” Fears laughed and told Nick, “It was your fault, because you said no one could put deer blood on your face. Since you didn’t want the deer blood, I felt like the deer’s stomach content was the next best thing.” Once again everyone rolled with laughter. And, even Nick, as terrible of an experience as he’d had, had to laugh at what had happened.  One of the older hunters looked at Nick, put his hand on Nick’s shoulder and gave him some sound advice that I’ve remembered to this day. “Now, son, when you’re in a deer camp, the one thing that you never want to do is let your elephant mouth overload your hummingbird behind. When you throw-down a gauntlet like you did by saying no one could put deer blood on your face, just remember there’s always at least four or five guys who will become totally dedicated to proving you wrong.”
The deer-camp clowns I’ve met basically have been good ole boys doing what good ole boys do – hunting deer, telling jokes, pulling pranks and creating memories that last a lifetime. |
