Having six sons who enjoy the outdoors, I’ve always regretted I was never financially able to join a hunting club where we could enjoy the camaraderie always present in a camp atmosphere.
Many hunters, especially deer hunters and duck hunters, join with fellow sportsmen to lease or buy land for a club. This provides a focal point for their hunting activities. Some have clubs with bunkhouses, a kitchen/dining hall and even, in some cases, a game room and a gun room. Others aren’t so posh — just a shack in the backwoods or a clearing on the property where tents are pitched or campers parked. In every camp, however, one thing is the same. During hunting season, members spend valuable time with family and friends outdoors.
It is this lattermost quality I always wanted for my sons. I longed for a place where we could spend time together each year hunting. And the older the boys grew, the more I wanted this. I knew a time would come when my sons would get jobs and move away from home. When they did, I knew it would become increasingly difficult for us to enjoy quality time together. An annual hunting camp might provide a reason to do so.
One thing hadn’t changed, however. I still couldn’t afford a club membership, and with deer- and duck-hunting leases becoming increasingly expensive, I didn’t feel like the boys and I could afford that route either. I needed another plan.
It came to me one day while talking with my friend Jim Spencer. Jim was reminiscing about White River squirrel camps he’d enjoyed with family and friends for more than 25 years. They called the place Five Forks, and each year, on the opening day of fall squirrel season, members of their group gathered there for “The Camp.”
“Squirrel hunting was our excuse,” Jim said. “But the real purpose of assembly was the camp itself. Over the years, the means had become the end, and though hunting was necessary, it was also incidental. Some years we did pretty well with the squirrels, but we could bring home just as much meat, and do it a lot cheaper, by hunting closer to home and sleeping in our beds at night. Our wives often reminded us of this, but every year, we packed up and went anyway. I have many good memories from those camps.”
I told Jim I had been trying to find a way to gather my sons for an annual get-together of that sort, and he helped make it happen. He and his wife Jill had purchased property near Calico Rock. National forestlands with an abundance of gray squirrels and fox squirrels surrounded the property.
“The squirrels are thick this year,” he said. “You guys can come up and use our bunkhouse for your camp. We’ve got plenty of room, and I’ll even feed you and show you good places to hunt.”
I pitched the idea to the boys, and the three most ardent hunters — Josh, Matt and Zach — agreed an annual squirrel camp sounded fun, and we should give it a try. Our friend Lewis Peeler was invited, too.
Squirrel Camp I
So it was the five of us gathered for our first Squirrel Camp. Jim’s bunkhouse — a roomy affair with bunk beds, a bath and a big kitchen/dining area — turned out to be perfect. Jim and Jill lived next door, but they enjoy entertaining guests and were gracious hosts. We could come and go on our early-morning squirrel-hunting forays without disturbing them.
Jim took us to a hunting spot the first afternoon and explained the lay of the land.
“A couple of you can head that way and follow the creek to hunt,” he said, pointing. “The rest can split up and hunt the hardwoods along the next logging road over. I’ve killed a limit of squirrels every time I’ve been out, so you shouldn’t have any trouble finding good hunting.”
When we met back at sunset, everyone had several bushytails in their game bag. We cleaned our kill at the bunkhouse while Jim fired up a cooker and prepared a supper of fried trout with all the fixings.
At dawn the next day, Jim led us to a new hunting area on some national-forest property. When the sun rose, we were scattered across a square mile of beautiful Ozark territory, each enjoying some alone time while hunting. It was a fantastic autumn day. The fall leaves were at the peak of color.
We hunted again in the afternoon, and by day’s end, everyone had limits of squirrels. We killed more the next morning and took plenty home for our freezers.
Squirrel Camp II
Everyone agreed the first Squirrel Camp was a huge success, and we should plan another for the following season.
Jim reported a lack of squirrels in the Ozarks that next year, so we moved Squirrel Camp to the White River National Wildlife Refuge near Clarendon, where bushytails were abundant. We didn’t have a bunkhouse this time, but that hardly mattered. We set up tents on the banks of Red Cat Lake, a remote oxbow full of fish, and in addition to enjoying great hunting, we savored the new scenery — bottomlands instead of mountains — and caught plenty of fish to eat. Sitting around a campfire at night, eating food cooked over hardwood coals, listening to barred owls hoot and watching stars sparkle overhead, we agreed it couldn’t get much better.
Future camps
We couldn’t get together for Squirrel Camp last year. Matt lives in Chicago now, Zach was busy in college, and Josh, Lewis and I just couldn’t manage the time away from our jobs. I imagine this year will be different, though. All of us agreed we missed being in camp together and would try harder to regroup for a few days this fall. Whether that will happen or not remains to be seen, but even if it doesn’t, we still have good memories of our first two camps, and I feel certain we’ll get together again for more camps in the future.
I asked Zach today what he liked best about those first two Squirrel Camps.
“Most of all, I enjoyed the times we all had just to sit and talk,” he said. “And I enjoyed being outside exploring new places. Having a chance to roam through the woods on my own and being close to nature made it special.”
I suppose that’s as much as a father could ask from an experience shared with his sons — that those young men come away from it with the knowledge that spending quality time with family and friends has great value, and finding time to immerse oneself in nature can soothe a man’s soul. For that, I will always be grateful.
Please pardon me now. I have another Squirrel Camp to plan.