“Mom, why the hell is there a homeless man staying in our garage?”

Oh no. Who would want to be that fancy? Instead, my family has “Deer Camp”.

Deer Camp where I am from, is a place (whether in your 2 car garage at your actual house, or at a log cabin in the woods), where hunters and random vagrants sit around telling stories, playing cards and drinking liquor and beer until they pass out. Wake-up call is something absurd like 3am, at which point the gents make and feast on a huge breakfast (usually something like bacon, eggs, venison sausage, or anything that would make a vegan puke at the thought.) Next it’s out to sit in the woods before dawn, likely up in a tree, most always in sub-zero temperatures, snow and all- in hopes a deer will stroll by that you can shoot at.

If you are “lucky” you’ll shoot one dead and get to drag it about 17 miles out of the woods and hang it in a tree until it’s ready to hack up or eat. (Example displayed in these lovely and completely unoffensive photos I took when I was home last week.)

Here’s to simultaneously loving where you came from and thanking god you got the hell out long ago. Although, I guess visiting home and being called “City Girl” by a bunch of deer campers has it’s charm on occasions.