October 6, 2023 • 17 mins
Deer Camp holds a lot of special memories for many and Brent is no exception. This week he’s talking about the traditions and legacy around his deer camp and how easy it is for you to start your own and do the same. He’s starting off with a story of deer hunting, bologna and underwear. That’s an unusual combination, but we’re sure it’ll all make sense when he explains it. Reasonably sure anyway. It’s Deer Camp time on This Country Life!
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:05):
Welcome to This Country Life. I'm your host, Brent Rieves
from coon hunting to trot lining and just general country living.
I want you to stay a while as I share
my stories and the country skills that will help you
beat the system. This Country Life is proudly presented as
part of Meat Eaters Podcast Network, bringing you the best
(00:25):
outdoor podcast the airways have to offer. All right, friends,
pull you up a chair or drop that tailgate. I
think I got a thing or two. The Teacher Deer
Cam Deer season is what the majority of the hunters
in America look forward to every year. With over fifteen
(00:47):
million license hunters in the US, y'all know over eleven
million of them are chasing deer. One of those statistical
digits belongs to me, and for the better part of
my existence on this in order we call home Dear
Camp was what I look forward to most of all.
Tradition and legacy are a big part of the outdoor culture,
(01:09):
and believed or not, it's never too late to start
your own. We're gonna talk about that and a whole
lot more on this week's episode of This Country Life.
But first I'm gonna tell you a story. My nephew,
Matthew was seventeen. That's the same Matthew that I let
(01:33):
get lost in the woods on a windy coon hunt
a few years before with his little brother Will. If
you miss that story, skip back to episode one forty
one and hear that tale of miscommunication and buffoonery. But
Matthew will be forty five this December. His oldest is
in her first year of college. But on this day
(01:54):
he was still young, and it was the middle of
the morning, way past the golden ire of morning deer
hunh And I don't remember if it was hunger or
boredom that got me off the stand earlier that day.
It was a safe bet that it was one or
the other. I love to deer hunt, and by deer hunting,
I mean that I like to be where the deer
hunting is taking place, not necessarily literally taking part in it.
(02:19):
And at that time it was taking place at the
b and Our deer camp. More on that place than
just a minute. But I remember getting back early and
sitting on the front porch of the deer camp in
a cool breeze, while everyone else was still scattered to
the wind, still sitting on the stands. I was eating
a Blogna sandwich that was sporting a mule lip thick
(02:42):
piece of bologna and covered with Miss Mickey Bryant's famous
pepper rellish. Now, folks, I like stories that are descriptive.
I like to read or listen to someone telling me
about an experience with the clarity that makes me feel
like I am the person experiencing the event, or that
I can see it played out in color like a
(03:02):
little movie in my head. I had a freshman com
professor that told me I was a very descriptive writer.
Well that's cool, I guess, But let me tell you,
William Shakespeare himself couldn't gather the pros necessary to come
close describing how good her homemade pepper relish was. I
(03:23):
can taste it right now, and I ain't had a
bite of it in many, many moons. But I had
my sandwich and some reheated coffee from the stove, and
it was enjoying just sitting on the porch waiting for
someone to come rolling in with a deer, or at
least a deer story. And then all of a sudden, bam,
(03:43):
my sandwich date was interrupted by a rifle shot, just
a little south of due west. Well, that's Matthew stand.
I decided i'd give him a minute or two before
I go checked on him, mainly because I wanted to
finish that sandwich I was eating before us. I ordered
walking from the camp down to the creek bottom where
he was hunting, about a quarter of a mile away.
(04:06):
That first sandwich was so good, I fixed me another
one and I let out across the yard, making my
way toward Matthew's stand. It was cool walking in the
sunlight with the wind out of the north, but down
right chilly once I stepped into the woods, where all
the direct sunlight was hidden by some old growth timber.
The canopy was so thick that the ground was pretty
(04:27):
well absent of brushing briars, and you could see a
pretty good ways down through that bottom. I was taking
my time and wearing my hunt orange, so when Matthew
eventually saw me walking, he wouldn't bust a camp in
my direction. I was also gnawing on that sandwich was reckless, abandoned.
It had been a long time since we'd all let breakfast,
(04:48):
and I knew he'd be hungry too, So the last
thing I wanted to do before helping him gut and
drag a deer back to camp. Was share my sandwich
with him. I know that's terrible, but don't get me wrong.
I loved my nephew just like he's my son, and
I would have give that rascal both of my kidneys
to this very day. But I wouldn't have shared a
(05:09):
body of that pepperrellish and mule lip sandwich with Saint
Peter if he asked for it. The precious few folks
on this planet that have eaten it, they understand. Anyway.
I finally swallowed that last body as I came into
view of Matthew stand. We call it the Corner Stand,
and it sits in a little oak flat that at
the time could have doubled for a state park. Now,
(05:32):
with the timber having been cut in there, there's more
undergrowth than brows, which is better for deer anyway, But
it just don't look as pretty, not as it did then.
It was a great spot that it still is a
natural transition from a big overgrown clearcut that funneled deer
along a creek bottoming into that old flatward where that
stand was located. I looked at the standards that got closer,
(05:55):
and when I was within sixty yards or so, I
could see that he wasn't in it. I continued on,
and as I rounded a set of holly bushes that
was growing on the bank of the creek, I could
see matthew sonning there. He just crawled up out of
the creek as I rounded the corner, barefooted as a goose,
dripping wet from the waist down and grinning with a
(06:16):
mouthful of choppers that even that fifth Dentist were approved of.
He was looking in the creek and smiling back at
me in his underwear. They were the whitey tidy kind,
but purple, and I was confused, Boy, what in the
world are you doing? It was a rhetorical question. I
(06:39):
could plainly see what he was doing. He was standing
on the bank of the creek in his drawers. I
just didn't know why. Uncle Brient a buck walked up
here from down the creek, and I shot him. When
I did, he fell in the creek and I couldn't
see him after I shot, so I got down. I
came over here and I looked in the creek and
I still couldn't find him. I had to get in there.
(07:00):
We had a check, and sure enough that's where he was.
He had pulled him up on a little sandbar, and
he was proud, and I was proud. After he got
his breeches back on, we pulled him up on the
bank and we drug him back to camp. I fixed
him with a Blonga sandwich. And that's just how that happened.
(07:29):
Our first deer camp structure, if you could call canvas.
The structure was an old war surplus army tent that
would sleep a dozen folks if you scooted everyone's cots
close together. It was miserable hot during the day and
cold as a steel wedge at night. The only sustainable
feature that carried on day and night was the relaxing
(07:50):
smell of moth balls that permeated that thick canvas fabric.
That may have deterred malls, but it seemed to have
no effect on the miss chewed on it. From year
to year. Every year saw new patches and areas that
had to be sewn back together from the previous eleven
months of storage. We would put it up about a
(08:12):
week before the gun season opened in November and take
it down a week or so after it went out
back then, which is a phrase my eleven year old
daughter Bailey, references often that includes anything that happened before
cell phones and yogurt breeches. Gun deer season was a
week long in Arkansas, with a few additional days scattered
here and there around the holidays. But for the serious
(08:34):
rifle hunters that were chasing bucks, that first week of
gun deer season was what we had waited for. The
other fifty one weeks out of the year. We ran
deer dogs for several years, beagles mostly, But as the
time went on, running dogs became more and more of
a burden as previously free Timber Company land that we
(08:55):
hunted became lease land. Folks weren't as interested in pushing
their deer over on the neighboring lease for someone else
to let the air out of. We were paying for
the opportunity to shoot the deer on ire lease and
I move them somewhere else. Now. I understand why the
Timber Company started leasing, but it literally and figuratively changed
(09:17):
the landscape of deer hunting in Arkansas from the onset.
But that, as I say, is a whole other podcast.
Today we're talking about deer camps, specifically the one that
I hunted in for many years, the ben Our Deer
camp that stood for Bryant and Reeves. The Brian was
(09:39):
the family that my brother Tim married into, and when
he did, they got me by default. Not sure if
I was part of the diary or more of a
consolation prize, but regardless, there I was. Now My brothers
in laws that I referenced many times on this podcast
are all just like my family. His father in law,
mister Billy Brian was my turkey hunting mentor his mother
(10:01):
in law, Miss Mickey. That was a nickname for her.
Her real name was Amelia Ruth and that lady was
something special in her own right. In all the years
I knew her, I never saw her when she wasn't
sporting a smile. Don't even get me started on her cooking.
For the love of humanity. She was in the league
of her own. Joe, their son was four years older
(10:23):
than Tim and he was a big brother to us all.
Initially in the camp it was Joe, Tim and a
cousin of ours. Then as a kid of eleven, I
was allowed in that events that grew to include other
family members, our children and now the children of our children.
That's heritage, that's tradition. That's how you build a legacy.
(10:46):
And it wasn't done with the deer that we killed
one week out of the year. I mean, that's South Arkansas.
Not a lot of folks longing to hunt that area
like they are Southeast Kansas. Not. Then, for sure, it's
gotten a lot better because people are educating themselves more
on growing there deer to maturity and maximizing the age
of deer to growing bigger. But back then, there's bailey
(11:09):
slanging again. For ancient times. Back then it was a
sin to shoot a dough. Now why you asked, because
every old head would stand on a soapbox and tell
you that dead mama deer don't have baby buck deer.
That's how I think the buck to dough ratio got
so out of whack. But that's a whole other podcast.
(11:29):
A small buck would get smashed because the prevalent thinking
was if I didn't shoot him, the next fellow would. Anyway,
that's all changed now and changed for the better. But Brent,
stay on track. After a few years of sleeping in
a tent and losing the battle against the forces of
mice and moth balls, we decided a building was in order,
(11:50):
so we procured several bunks of lumber, mostly hardwood slabs,
and build a thirty two or sixteen cabin with a hammer,
a chainsaw, and a square. The tin roof was scrapped
from a chicken house, and after a few weekends and
the blistering heat, the be and our deer camp had
a deer camp. Our stove was an old barrel cut
(12:13):
out with doors and stovepipe attached. It sat in a
big sandbox that would catch any fallen embers or coals
when the door was opened, and to keep from heating
the floor to the point of combustion when the stove
was full of wood and the damper opened. I've seen
that thing glowing red as we laid in the darkness,
Smoke building out of the stack like a steam engine,
(12:36):
the temperature fluctuating from the surface of the sun on
the side that was facing the stove the absolute zero
on the side that wasn't. We turned back and forth
all night, trying to find the sweet spot between being
scalded and frostbite. The fire pit outside was where we gathered.
It's where we told stores and revisited the day's events.
(12:58):
There was no electricity. The fire was our TV, a
ballgame might be played from a truck radio in the background,
and peeling off the porch was acceptable, except for the
no peas on where the steps led you in and
out of the front door. We had a gas stover
that we cooked on in it. It ran off a
big bottle that was kept out back. We took turns
(13:21):
getting up early to start the coffee and stoke up
the fire and the stove, and my work eventually took
me away from this place, making it troublesome to continue.
But the tradition is kept alive by everyone else, and
I miss it dearly. The adults that were only kids
when we built that camp now have kids that are
(13:41):
older than they were when we started. We built it
in nineteen eighty eight, thirty five years ago, and it
stands today not unlike it stood then. A rectangle of
mismatched furniture out of plumb walls, creaking floor, and the
occasional adventurous field mouse that would dare to run the
(14:03):
gauntlet after everyone finally quieted down when the lannings were
turned off. I miss all of that except the mouse part.
I hate them now. Outside of someone killing a big
(14:23):
deer Family Night was the highlight of the week. Wives,
mothers and friends would cook and bring a big pot
luck supper to the camp and it was way more
food than we could eat in anyone setting, So the
leftovers would stay and we'd work on them the rest
of the week. Deer chili, chicken, corn bread, beans, peas cakes,
(14:45):
pious cookies, you name it. It was there and it
was good, every bit of it. And some of y'all
going to hear this, and I think, ma'am, I wish
I had that in my life. Well, let me tell
you you can. You don't have to from where I'm
from to have something like that. It's never too late
to start a tradition. Traditions don't have to be old,
(15:09):
They just have to have value to the folks that
are participating. The value can't come from the success of
the endeavor. It can't rest on the shoulders of a
successful hunt either. A successful hunt is a fleeting wind
that fades away quicker than the deer meat in the freezer.
It has to be organic, can come from the people
(15:29):
that gather there together for the shared experience. Each person
and family represent a crucial part that makes the whole experience,
a tangible entity. That's what creates the basis for tradition,
and tradition is what builds the legacy. It ain't hard
surround yourself with folks you love and enjoy being with
(15:53):
and doing something you all love to do, and the
next thing you know, you'll look around and there's a
whole bunch of little folks that resemble you and the
rest of the old g's standing in line to carry
the torch. Dear Camp, It's more than just dear a
whole lot more. The time to be at the camp
(16:17):
is fast approaching. You, folks. Make sure you've got those
washed nests taken care of and your stands inspected, and
for the love of humanity, wear safety strap. You can't
help build the tradition if you ain't there. If you
ain't there, there's gonna be some folks missing. I sure
appreciate y'all listening. And until next week, this is Brent
(16:40):
Reeves signing off. Y'all be careful
Welcome to This Country Life. I'm your host, Brent Rieves
from coon hunting to trot lining and just general country living.
I want you to stay a while as I share
my stories and the country skills that will help you
beat the system. This Country Life is proudly presented as
part of Meat Eaters Podcast Network, bringing you the best
(00:25):
outdoor podcast the airways have to offer. All right, friends,
pull you up a chair or drop that tailgate. I
think I got a thing or two. The Teacher Deer
Cam Deer season is what the majority of the hunters
in America look forward to every year. With over fifteen
(00:47):
million license hunters in the US, y'all know over eleven
million of them are chasing deer. One of those statistical
digits belongs to me, and for the better part of
my existence on this in order we call home Dear
Camp was what I look forward to most of all.
Tradition and legacy are a big part of the outdoor culture,
(01:09):
and believed or not, it's never too late to start
your own. We're gonna talk about that and a whole
lot more on this week's episode of This Country Life.
But first I'm gonna tell you a story. My nephew,
Matthew was seventeen. That's the same Matthew that I let
(01:33):
get lost in the woods on a windy coon hunt
a few years before with his little brother Will. If
you miss that story, skip back to episode one forty
one and hear that tale of miscommunication and buffoonery. But
Matthew will be forty five this December. His oldest is
in her first year of college. But on this day
(01:54):
he was still young, and it was the middle of
the morning, way past the golden ire of morning deer
hunh And I don't remember if it was hunger or
boredom that got me off the stand earlier that day.
It was a safe bet that it was one or
the other. I love to deer hunt, and by deer hunting,
I mean that I like to be where the deer
hunting is taking place, not necessarily literally taking part in it.
(02:19):
And at that time it was taking place at the
b and Our deer camp. More on that place than
just a minute. But I remember getting back early and
sitting on the front porch of the deer camp in
a cool breeze, while everyone else was still scattered to
the wind, still sitting on the stands. I was eating
a Blogna sandwich that was sporting a mule lip thick
(02:42):
piece of bologna and covered with Miss Mickey Bryant's famous
pepper rellish. Now, folks, I like stories that are descriptive.
I like to read or listen to someone telling me
about an experience with the clarity that makes me feel
like I am the person experiencing the event, or that
I can see it played out in color like a
(03:02):
little movie in my head. I had a freshman com
professor that told me I was a very descriptive writer.
Well that's cool, I guess, But let me tell you,
William Shakespeare himself couldn't gather the pros necessary to come
close describing how good her homemade pepper relish was. I
(03:23):
can taste it right now, and I ain't had a
bite of it in many, many moons. But I had
my sandwich and some reheated coffee from the stove, and
it was enjoying just sitting on the porch waiting for
someone to come rolling in with a deer, or at
least a deer story. And then all of a sudden, bam,
(03:43):
my sandwich date was interrupted by a rifle shot, just
a little south of due west. Well, that's Matthew stand.
I decided i'd give him a minute or two before
I go checked on him, mainly because I wanted to
finish that sandwich I was eating before us. I ordered
walking from the camp down to the creek bottom where
he was hunting, about a quarter of a mile away.
(04:06):
That first sandwich was so good, I fixed me another
one and I let out across the yard, making my
way toward Matthew's stand. It was cool walking in the
sunlight with the wind out of the north, but down
right chilly once I stepped into the woods, where all
the direct sunlight was hidden by some old growth timber.
The canopy was so thick that the ground was pretty
(04:27):
well absent of brushing briars, and you could see a
pretty good ways down through that bottom. I was taking
my time and wearing my hunt orange, so when Matthew
eventually saw me walking, he wouldn't bust a camp in
my direction. I was also gnawing on that sandwich was reckless, abandoned.
It had been a long time since we'd all let breakfast,
(04:48):
and I knew he'd be hungry too, So the last
thing I wanted to do before helping him gut and
drag a deer back to camp. Was share my sandwich
with him. I know that's terrible, but don't get me wrong.
I loved my nephew just like he's my son, and
I would have give that rascal both of my kidneys
to this very day. But I wouldn't have shared a
(05:09):
body of that pepperrellish and mule lip sandwich with Saint
Peter if he asked for it. The precious few folks
on this planet that have eaten it, they understand. Anyway.
I finally swallowed that last body as I came into
view of Matthew stand. We call it the Corner Stand,
and it sits in a little oak flat that at
the time could have doubled for a state park. Now,
(05:32):
with the timber having been cut in there, there's more
undergrowth than brows, which is better for deer anyway, But
it just don't look as pretty, not as it did then.
It was a great spot that it still is a
natural transition from a big overgrown clearcut that funneled deer
along a creek bottoming into that old flatward where that
stand was located. I looked at the standards that got closer,
(05:55):
and when I was within sixty yards or so, I
could see that he wasn't in it. I continued on,
and as I rounded a set of holly bushes that
was growing on the bank of the creek, I could
see matthew sonning there. He just crawled up out of
the creek as I rounded the corner, barefooted as a goose,
dripping wet from the waist down and grinning with a
(06:16):
mouthful of choppers that even that fifth Dentist were approved of.
He was looking in the creek and smiling back at
me in his underwear. They were the whitey tidy kind,
but purple, and I was confused, Boy, what in the
world are you doing? It was a rhetorical question. I
(06:39):
could plainly see what he was doing. He was standing
on the bank of the creek in his drawers. I
just didn't know why. Uncle Brient a buck walked up
here from down the creek, and I shot him. When
I did, he fell in the creek and I couldn't
see him after I shot, so I got down. I
came over here and I looked in the creek and
I still couldn't find him. I had to get in there.
(07:00):
We had a check, and sure enough that's where he was.
He had pulled him up on a little sandbar, and
he was proud, and I was proud. After he got
his breeches back on, we pulled him up on the
bank and we drug him back to camp. I fixed
him with a Blonga sandwich. And that's just how that happened.
(07:29):
Our first deer camp structure, if you could call canvas.
The structure was an old war surplus army tent that
would sleep a dozen folks if you scooted everyone's cots
close together. It was miserable hot during the day and
cold as a steel wedge at night. The only sustainable
feature that carried on day and night was the relaxing
(07:50):
smell of moth balls that permeated that thick canvas fabric.
That may have deterred malls, but it seemed to have
no effect on the miss chewed on it. From year
to year. Every year saw new patches and areas that
had to be sewn back together from the previous eleven
months of storage. We would put it up about a
(08:12):
week before the gun season opened in November and take
it down a week or so after it went out
back then, which is a phrase my eleven year old
daughter Bailey, references often that includes anything that happened before
cell phones and yogurt breeches. Gun deer season was a
week long in Arkansas, with a few additional days scattered
here and there around the holidays. But for the serious
(08:34):
rifle hunters that were chasing bucks, that first week of
gun deer season was what we had waited for. The
other fifty one weeks out of the year. We ran
deer dogs for several years, beagles mostly, But as the
time went on, running dogs became more and more of
a burden as previously free Timber Company land that we
(08:55):
hunted became lease land. Folks weren't as interested in pushing
their deer over on the neighboring lease for someone else
to let the air out of. We were paying for
the opportunity to shoot the deer on ire lease and
I move them somewhere else. Now. I understand why the
Timber Company started leasing, but it literally and figuratively changed
(09:17):
the landscape of deer hunting in Arkansas from the onset.
But that, as I say, is a whole other podcast.
Today we're talking about deer camps, specifically the one that
I hunted in for many years, the ben Our Deer
camp that stood for Bryant and Reeves. The Brian was
(09:39):
the family that my brother Tim married into, and when
he did, they got me by default. Not sure if
I was part of the diary or more of a
consolation prize, but regardless, there I was. Now My brothers
in laws that I referenced many times on this podcast
are all just like my family. His father in law,
mister Billy Brian was my turkey hunting mentor his mother
(10:01):
in law, Miss Mickey. That was a nickname for her.
Her real name was Amelia Ruth and that lady was
something special in her own right. In all the years
I knew her, I never saw her when she wasn't
sporting a smile. Don't even get me started on her cooking.
For the love of humanity. She was in the league
of her own. Joe, their son was four years older
(10:23):
than Tim and he was a big brother to us all.
Initially in the camp it was Joe, Tim and a
cousin of ours. Then as a kid of eleven, I
was allowed in that events that grew to include other
family members, our children and now the children of our children.
That's heritage, that's tradition. That's how you build a legacy.
(10:46):
And it wasn't done with the deer that we killed
one week out of the year. I mean, that's South Arkansas.
Not a lot of folks longing to hunt that area
like they are Southeast Kansas. Not. Then, for sure, it's
gotten a lot better because people are educating themselves more
on growing there deer to maturity and maximizing the age
of deer to growing bigger. But back then, there's bailey
(11:09):
slanging again. For ancient times. Back then it was a
sin to shoot a dough. Now why you asked, because
every old head would stand on a soapbox and tell
you that dead mama deer don't have baby buck deer.
That's how I think the buck to dough ratio got
so out of whack. But that's a whole other podcast.
(11:29):
A small buck would get smashed because the prevalent thinking
was if I didn't shoot him, the next fellow would. Anyway,
that's all changed now and changed for the better. But Brent,
stay on track. After a few years of sleeping in
a tent and losing the battle against the forces of
mice and moth balls, we decided a building was in order,
(11:50):
so we procured several bunks of lumber, mostly hardwood slabs,
and build a thirty two or sixteen cabin with a hammer,
a chainsaw, and a square. The tin roof was scrapped
from a chicken house, and after a few weekends and
the blistering heat, the be and our deer camp had
a deer camp. Our stove was an old barrel cut
(12:13):
out with doors and stovepipe attached. It sat in a
big sandbox that would catch any fallen embers or coals
when the door was opened, and to keep from heating
the floor to the point of combustion when the stove
was full of wood and the damper opened. I've seen
that thing glowing red as we laid in the darkness,
Smoke building out of the stack like a steam engine,
(12:36):
the temperature fluctuating from the surface of the sun on
the side that was facing the stove the absolute zero
on the side that wasn't. We turned back and forth
all night, trying to find the sweet spot between being
scalded and frostbite. The fire pit outside was where we gathered.
It's where we told stores and revisited the day's events.
(12:58):
There was no electricity. The fire was our TV, a
ballgame might be played from a truck radio in the background,
and peeling off the porch was acceptable, except for the
no peas on where the steps led you in and
out of the front door. We had a gas stover
that we cooked on in it. It ran off a
big bottle that was kept out back. We took turns
(13:21):
getting up early to start the coffee and stoke up
the fire and the stove, and my work eventually took
me away from this place, making it troublesome to continue.
But the tradition is kept alive by everyone else, and
I miss it dearly. The adults that were only kids
when we built that camp now have kids that are
(13:41):
older than they were when we started. We built it
in nineteen eighty eight, thirty five years ago, and it
stands today not unlike it stood then. A rectangle of
mismatched furniture out of plumb walls, creaking floor, and the
occasional adventurous field mouse that would dare to run the
(14:03):
gauntlet after everyone finally quieted down when the lannings were
turned off. I miss all of that except the mouse part.
I hate them now. Outside of someone killing a big
(14:23):
deer Family Night was the highlight of the week. Wives,
mothers and friends would cook and bring a big pot
luck supper to the camp and it was way more
food than we could eat in anyone setting, So the
leftovers would stay and we'd work on them the rest
of the week. Deer chili, chicken, corn bread, beans, peas cakes,
(14:45):
pious cookies, you name it. It was there and it
was good, every bit of it. And some of y'all
going to hear this, and I think, ma'am, I wish
I had that in my life. Well, let me tell
you you can. You don't have to from where I'm
from to have something like that. It's never too late
to start a tradition. Traditions don't have to be old,
(15:09):
They just have to have value to the folks that
are participating. The value can't come from the success of
the endeavor. It can't rest on the shoulders of a
successful hunt either. A successful hunt is a fleeting wind
that fades away quicker than the deer meat in the freezer.
It has to be organic, can come from the people
(15:29):
that gather there together for the shared experience. Each person
and family represent a crucial part that makes the whole experience,
a tangible entity. That's what creates the basis for tradition,
and tradition is what builds the legacy. It ain't hard
surround yourself with folks you love and enjoy being with
(15:53):
and doing something you all love to do, and the
next thing you know, you'll look around and there's a
whole bunch of little folks that resemble you and the
rest of the old g's standing in line to carry
the torch. Dear Camp, It's more than just dear a
whole lot more. The time to be at the camp
(16:17):
is fast approaching. You, folks. Make sure you've got those
washed nests taken care of and your stands inspected, and
for the love of humanity, wear safety strap. You can't
help build the tradition if you ain't there. If you
ain't there, there's gonna be some folks missing. I sure
appreciate y'all listening. And until next week, this is Brent
(16:40):
Reeves signing off. Y'all be careful
Host
Clay Newcomb
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