Last week’s column got me to remembering all the good times I have had while hunting. Since I have not been out for the past couple of years, I haven’t been with my old hunting friends, and we haven’t relived these stories and laughed at them once again.
I do believe the No. 1 story features my good friend Dave Rockland. Dave began hunting with us when I met him while doing an article on weakfish back in the 1970s. He had done his doctoral on the economic impact of fishing in Delaware, or something like that, and I called him to get some information on an article I was doing. By the way, he got his Ph.D. when he was 22 years old.
He began hunting geese with us on Snow Farm. When Mark Legget needed people to hunt deer on a property in Maryland, Dave and his stepfather, Marvin, were happy to join in.
The place in Somerset County was a perfect deer hunting property. Beautiful hardwoods surrounded by corn fields. A dirt road ran through the middle of the woods, and you drove down there to a parking location then walked into the woods to your deer stand.
As deer hunters know, you have to be in your stand before first light. We all drove down the dirt road, parked in our assigned spots and walked to our stands. Dave had to drop off Marvin then drive a little farther to his spot and park. He happened to be eating an apple at the time, and when he left his car, he threw his car keys into the woods and put the apple core in his pocket.
After the morning hunt, we noticed Dave and Marvin searching the very thick underbrush alongside the car. It took a bit of time before Dave admitted to what he had done, and then it took even longer for the rest of us to stop laughing and help him find his keys. I do not recall who found the keys, but someone did, so all’s well that ends well.
Mark lost the Somerset County property when the owner decided to sell the timber. I was devastated because I killed a deer there every year, including the eight-point that hangs on my living room wall.
Dave came to the rescue with a nice property in Maryland, west of Dover, that was reasonably priced. The first year we hunted there, Mark had a field where the garbage pit had once stood. There were no stands, and the underbrush was pretty thick after years of fertilizer from rotting chickens and who knows what else.
As Mark walked into the field, a deer stood up. Mark shot it. Then it stood up again, so Mark shot it again. This time it stayed down. As he walked toward his deer, he found two dead deer on the ground. It seems he had killed two, not one. Since Maryland only allows a hunter one deer, that meant someone else had just filled his tag. Dave was the sort of huntmaster and he took one for the team.
The next year, the farmer next door wanted some easy money, so he let us hunt his farm for the same fee we paid Dave’s friend – $1,200 per year. His place was loaded with deer, and everybody got one, including Marvin.
I was the last one in a line of stands in the woods. I could hear single shots until the deer got to Marvin’s stand just up from mine, then there were several shots. Finally, a deer appeared in my range and I killed it. As I walked up to Marvin dragging my deer, he was still in his stand with a nice buck on the ground. It seems the deer went around his stand while he fired at them until he killed the buck.
A few years later, Dave bought a farm close to his friend’s and had the house redone. He and his family use this place as a getaway from their apartment in New York City. Of course, Dave also hunts there.
Dave and Marvin were hunting this property. One time, Dave returned home late one afternoon and heard a shot from Marvin’s stand. Walking out, he found Marvin standing in the field alongside a dead deer. After handshakes and backslaps, Dave said he would go back to the house and get the pickup truck to haul the deer back to the barn.
When he returned to the field, he found Marvin wandering around looking for the deer. He asked, “What happened?”
Marvin said, “I had to pee, so I went into the woods behind a tree. When I came back, I couldn’t find the deer.”
Dave said, “Marvin, it is dark, there is no one for miles around. You could have peed right next to the deer and no one would have seen you.”
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Eric Burnley is a Delaware native who has fished and hunted the state from an early age. Since 1978 he has written countless articles about hunting and fishing in Delaware and elsewhere along the Atlantic Coast. He has been the regional editor for several publications and was the founding editor of the Mid-Atlantic Fisherman magazine. Eric is the author of three books: Surf Fishing the Atlantic Coast, The Ultimate Guide to Striped Bass Fishing and Fishing Saltwater Baits. He and his wife Barbara live near Milton, Delaware. Eric can be reached at Eburnle@aol.com.
