By Justin Folks/DWR for Whitetail Times
I was born in September of 1985, about the same time the very first Whitetail Times magazine was published. This article reflects upon how my life has changed and how it has been affected by deer over my 40 years on Earth.
I was first bitten by the deer hunting bug at the age of 6 when my dad took me on the very first deer hunt that I can remember. It was early archery season, cool but not cold, and the deer stand wasn’t far from camp—perfect for a youngster. The stand was a wooden platform built in the crook of a big sugar maple, with 2×4 steps nailed into its trunk. With the steps too far apart for my little arms and legs, Dad pulled me up into the tree with a stout rope and a bowline knot tied around my waist. (“Don’t tell mom!”) I’d brought along my little red wheel bow that I’d been shooting in the backyard all summer, which I’m sure was Dad’s concession to get me up a tree. I can still remember the beautiful fall foliage that surrounded me that morning in Highland County.
It didn’t take long for the world to wake up around us. I didn’t know so many squirrels and birds existed. Suddenly, there were footsteps in the leaves with a sound and cadence that didn’t match the others. “Sit still,” Dad whispered. My heart raced. Through the trees, up the ridge to our left, approached a spike buck. I began to giggle and shake uncontrollably. The arrow I had nocked on my bow sitting across my lap began to rattle against the riser. The spike stopped, broadside, at about 25 yards. Dad’s finger tabs loosed the aluminum arrow from his Darton bow… missing the buck by inches. The deer ran off, and I was hooked.
Countless hunts followed. Tree limb ground blinds while wrapped up in a camo G.I. Joe sleeping bag, man drives, still hunts—you name it, I was there—all the while learning about deer behavior, reading sign, walking quietly, and observing nature. I soaked it up like a sponge. This all culminated in taking my first deer ever with Dad’s .300 Savage at the age of 10, from a different wooden platform stand we later named “Lucky-Lucky.” The story behind that hunt is too long to tell here, but I learned a lot that day, too.
My first deer at age 10. The buck was a would-be four-pointer (one side was broken off), taken alongside my dad with his trusty .300 Savage. Photo courtesy of the author
A LOT has changed since those days. My early years of going to deer camp, taking Route 250 west from Staunton, was like a parade—a convoy of cars, trucks, and campers headed to the deer woods. If a vehicle or camper could fit in a spot along the road through the National Forest, it was occupied. Nowadays, you’d be hard pressed to see a single vehicle parked in a pull-off.
My early years of going to deer camp, taking Route 250 west from Staunton, were like a parade. A convoy of cars, trucks, and campers headed to the deer woods. If a vehicle or camper could fit in a spot along the road through the National Forest, it was occupied. Today you rarely see a vehicle parked in the pull-offs; how things have changed. Photo courtesy of DWR
The clear cuts that kept scores of deer, turkeys, and grouse on the mountain in my early years at hunting camp grew older, and the game “vanished.” It was easy to blame the bears and coyotes, but when we cut some trees, game returned.
We now sit in comfy ladder and lock-on stands, popup blinds, and shoot-houses within sight of the decrepit, hand-made wooden stands that remind us of days gone by.
My Bear Whitetail II that lobbed aluminum Easton 2216 arrows (and was used to take my first archery deer) has been upgraded a few times to a bow that launches lighter and more durable carbon arrows at much higher speeds. My oldest son has a crossbow, now legal for anyone, that’s about as effective as a small rifle. My break-action CVA Optima is much easier to clean than the sidelock with which I started, and I don’t have to keep up with the patches, roundballs, and #11 caps anymore. I even helped Dad melt lead and mold our own roundballs and maxi balls on the kitchen stove.
I remember being absolutely shocked when Dad said he found a deer track in his yard in the middle of Staunton, and I thought he was full of it. Now, we see far more deer in town than we do at Deer Camp.
I grew up outside. I played baseball in the spring and summer, and fall was for hunting. I didn’t grow up with video games (those came later for me). When I was bored, I went outside and did something—shot my bow, hit rocks with a stick, climbed trees. I regrettably admit that my three sons spend way more time on screens than outside, and I know mine aren’t the only ones. It’s hard to accept that this is the world we live in now.
My two oldest have each taken their first deer—Wyatt’s absolute mammoth of a doe with a .243, Barrett’s spike buck with a crossbow—and they both love a good deer steak. Although not as “eat up” with hunting as I was, they’re both on the board and seem to enjoy it. I try not to force it, as I’ve heard too many stories of kids getting turned off from too much pressure.
This is my oldest son, Barrett, with his first deer. He proudly took the spike with his Pap’s crossbow at the very same deer camp where I took my first deer. He now has his own crossbow and vertical bow. Photo courtesy of the author
Wyatt (right) is my middle son, and we were blessed to double up on does for his first kill, on family property in Botetourt County. People say I don’t smile much, but we were all smiles that morning! These are the memories we never forget. Photo courtesy of the author
Work and home life are a lot different now, much faster-paced than what I remember growing up. Part of it is probably the fact that when you’re in school, you’re sheltered from a lot of the adult responsibilities that you face when you have a job and three kids of your own who are in school, involved in sports, etc.
My deer management philosophy has evolved over time. As a youngster, I was “brown and down” and bloodthirsty. Any deer was a trophy, and any buck meant I was a mighty hunter. In my late teens and 20s, I felt that a buck shouldn’t be shot until he was at least 4 or 5 years old. Now, I believe in “shoot what makes you happy.” Who am I to tell someone else what they should or shouldn’t shoot?
I never thought about deer having diseases, and now CWD is in nearly every state and will further change how we manage deer.
I never thought we could have too many deer, and now most states struggle to keep them under control.
Nearly everyone I knew either hunted or had close ties with someone who did. Now, I’m the outcast at get-togethers and have no one with whom to share hunting stories. A lot of the guys I grew up with now have families of their own, and busy schedules don’t allow a weekend trip to Deer Camp.
I’d bet a lot of readers have similar stories as mine.
Additionally, a lot of deer hunters have changed. We’ve gone from celebrating ANY deer as a major achievement, to now seeing people shamed on social media for shooting something that some may have passed.
There have been positive changes as well. Trail cameras have gotten more affordable, allowing more of us to see what’s using an area and capture interactions and behaviors we’d never seen before. Often, the picture of that one buck keeps us in the stand an extra hour. Smartphones allow us to double-check hunting regulations from the stand, report our harvest in minutes, and capture that memorable moment in the field to share with others. We can check the weather on demand and plan for hunting conditions over the next several days. Technological advances in gear, weapons, and ammunition help increase our chances of success. Tree stands are much safer now, and safety harnesses are the norm. Clothing technology has allowed us to stay warmer and drier longer.
A lot more has changed which can be debated, whether good or bad, but there’s no debating that a lot has changed in the last 40 years… except for my love of white-tailed deer.
Justin Folks is the Deer Project Coordinator for DWR, overseeing the statewide deer management program. Readers can reach out to Justin via email at justin.folks@dwr.virginia.gov.
