Buck Fever?!: A Review on the Hunters Routine

By Reese Watson

Trigger Warning: this story contains pictures and mentions of dead animals

For as long as I can remember, hunting has had a significant impact on my life, whether I’ve liked it or not. Growing up, my meals were filled with venison and my snacks were composed of deer summer sausage. My house was decorated with antlers, in fact, the first thing you see when you enter my house is a skeletal deer head, and if you dare to walk a little deeper you would find a giant stuffed buck nailed to our living room wall. Growing up my two older sisters were given Hunter Annie’s instead of Barbie dolls, and any visit to Bass Pro Shop was a family outing.

I think the first real memory I had of hunting affecting my life came on my seventh birthday. My Dad had actually planned a buck hunt in Colorado, in return I got a purple giraffe plushie and I also got to name the stuffed deer head I mentioned earlier—I named him Billy Bob. But other than that, hunting has always just been there, whether scattered throughout my dinner, or seen by the level of stuff my Dad keeps in our garage.

So, this begs the question: what makes this thing so fantastic? What makes this thing so good it causes people to wake up at the butt crack of dawn, put on a pair of long johns, and drive out to some poe dunk town to hang out in the wilderness for several hours?

To answer this burning question I recruited my father, Lance Watson, an avid hunter since childhood, and a man of many skills like coaching golf, filling my car with gas, cooking snack night, and climbing tree stands.

My Dad, Lance Watson, on his infamous Colorado hunting trip.

When I first came up with this idea my parents, sister, and I were sitting at a table in a Wendy’s. My Dad was talking about going hunting later that week, and that's when the idea hit me like a ton of bricks. In all my eighteen years of life I had never once even attempted to go hunting with my Dad—both my sisters had, but I never dared. An equal feeling of guilt and excitement came upon me. Why not kill two birds with one stone? Go hunting with my Dad and experience something he loves, while also writing an in-depth review for the Torch.

So, in order to review my hunting exploration I’m going to be rating the hours of my hunt, as well as the hours before (the preparation) and the hours after (my thoughts/feelings). The rating will range from one to five antlers: one being, Naked and Afraid level bad, two being, I stepped in a puddle and now my socks are wet, three being, okay, we got a fire started, four being, dinners on the table, and five being, bullseye baby! For each part I will also describe what happened during that hour and why I put it there.

Part One: ‘Twas The Night Before the Big Hunt (Pre Hunt)

Technically, my hunt started way before my alarm started buzzing ‘All of the Lights’ by Kanye West at 4:30am. My Dad and I began prepping for our hunt around seven or eight the night before in our garage—but if we’re being technical here, my Dad has twenty years worth of prep in our garage from all his “hunting trinkets.”

Now, my Dad was very meticulous with this process. Every piece of clothing was laid out on the garage floor, almost like what a child would do the night before going to school. Along with that came laying out our boots, hats, gloves, and extra thick socks. Now, I don’t own any camo clothing whatsoever, so everything I wore was my Dads. This meant that almost everything was oversized, sadly, this also meant that the boots I wore were a tad too big, which had its struggles which we’ll get to later.

A picture of my family’s garage pre-hunt.

The outfit I was going to wear was composed of long johns, sweat pants, a turtle neck, camo coveralls from the 90’s (so hey, vintage), a windbreaker, a bulky camo jacket, thick wool socks, tall camo boots, gloves, and a camo hat.

Besides the outfit we also needed to make sure that our backpacks were filled with the essentials, which for both of us were things like face covers and headlamps. For my Dad his bag was filled with so much more, like emergency essentials. In my bag the only thing I had extra was what my Dad gave me, and a GoPro, which I used to film some of my hunt and capture pictures.

When we were done laying everything out, and my Dad was done packing his crossbow and everything else he deemed necessary in his car, he then pulled out scent killer spray, which would go on all of our clothes. This might have been the most important part of our preparation, because as my Dad said, “It takes two times for a deer to see you, two times for them to hear you, but only one to smell you.” Later in the night when I took my shower I also had to use scent killer, which was essentially two-in-one bodywash and shampoo. This was honestly the first red flag I encountered.

The bottle of Scent Killer I used prior to my hunt. (Fun fact: it was strangely green!)

After my shower, I went to bed around ten, which was a first for me in a long time. It was almost like my body knew what it was about to be doing, knew that it was about to experience something I had sworn off for years, knew that tomorrow, I would officially be in the wild.

Two out of five antlers for Part One.

Part Two: The Awakening (4:30am-5:30am)

When I first opened my eyes, I immediately went down to the garage to change into my outfit, then hit the road to Hallet, Oklahoma─which is where my Dad’s deer lease is. I was feeling pretty good, I wasn’t fatigued, in fact I was pretty eager to get the show on the road.

The ride itself was about an hour and a half, and in that time we listened to classic rock as my Dad gave me a few pointers and words of encouragement. He explained to me that patience, quietness, and soft feet were keys to a good hunt. So, basically everything I struggle with.

Once we got to the lease my Dad unlocked the gates, and we were officially in. Once he parked the car in some random field, his demeanor changed─this is where I say he was “locking in.” He passed me a head lamp, and then opened his hunting app. Apparently this would be a good day for hunting because of the intense drop in temperature, wind patterns/the way it was blowing, and the fact that we had a crescent moon.

The gate we were met with at the entrance of the lease.

My Dad then exited the car with such stealth it almost scared me. He grabbed his gear and slowly told me to get out too. Darkness completely surrounded me, and throughout the woods you could hear the crinkle of grass and the movement of different animals. It felt like something could pop out and grab me at any second.

The hunting app my Dad uses called, “Hunting Points: Deer Hunt App.”

So, once we both had everything my Dad carried his crossbow and quietly began to lead me into the unknown.

Three out of five antlers for Part Two.

Part Three: Consumed in Darkness, While Climbing a Mountain (5:30am-6:30am)

This had to be the absolute worst part of my journey. Something about following my Dad through bumpy paths and thick grass just didn’t make me feel fantastic. And now back to those kinda too big boots I was wearing─turns out that walking around on uneven, woodsy ground is quite difficult when you can’t seem to take solid steps.

Myself, headlamp in tow, prepping to step out into the forbidden forests of Hallet, Oklahoma.

The woods itself kind of felt like I was being scarcely followed in some dark horror movie, and it didn’t help that my Dad was carrying tons of weapons while acting so intimidating. But I get it, the woods have lots of dangers, it’s scary, but when he handed me an unloaded shotgun to carry while wearing my oversized boots, with only the faint glow of my dim headlamp, I started to freak out.

A brief glimpse into what I was (unknowingly) walking into.

Also, side note my Dads hunting lease has a hog problem. Which means that these things roam around hiding in the dirt, they're also huge and very dangerous. So, when he told me that there was a chance those horrendous things could make an appearance, that just added to my paranoia.

The walk felt like it was taking hours, each step took an exuberant amount of effort. My heart was quickly beating, as my Dad cautiously walked me through the woods. I was being led blind, I had no idea where I was.

Then finally, I saw it─the deer feeder in the distance, and hidden behind the trees was a camouflage hunting pop-up tent, the place I’d be calling home for the next four hours. Slowly we made our way over, carefully walking over crackling branches and dead leaves.

What the pop-up we used sort of looked like.

My Dad unzipped the tent's entrance, and I bent down, stepping into it. I then made my way to my spot and tried to make myself comfortable on a small foldable chair, in pitch black darkness, with only the freezing cold wind to comfort me.

One out of five antlers for Part Three.

Part Four: Feeders and Frostbite (6:30am-8:00am)

This was the part of my hunt that was honestly the hardest.

Once we were settled in the tent, it was completely dark, and the only thing I could really conceptualize was how freaking cold it was. I mean we’re talking degrees in the twenty’s, sitting down with zero movement. Luckily the sun rose a little after eight o clock, so that would give me a little relief.

A look from inside of the pop-up right after the sunrise.

In order to withstand the chill I put on a face mask that in reality made me look like I was more robbing a bank than hunting for deer. I also had HotHands in my bag, but I didn’t want to be the wuss of the trip and immediately grab them like a loser. So, periodically moving figures and playing with my gloves would have to suffice.

My Dad and I, sitting in the pop-up. Take note of my fabulous face mask.

The only action that really happened within this time was my Dad fiddling with his crossbow─practicing on creating a perfect angle if he were to shoot a deer─and the deer feeder going off after about an hour.

Now, the deer feeders name was “Big Boss,” and yes, I still don’t understand why grown men name their feeders as if it were a child, but hey gives them something to do I guess. The feeder sat directly in front of us, just a couple yards away. When it went off, it made an alarming buzzing sound, then spewed out just regular kernels of corn all around it. Now, my Dad was saying that since no one had been at the specific feeder in a while, the deer were used to coming and feeding there, and could have even built a routine on coming there after they heard the buzzing sound.

My view of “Big Boss” from the pop-up.

However, NOTHING CAME. But I was still early enough in the game that I had hope. Every russell of grass, or slight sound activated this dormant hunter's instinct within me. My Dad would usually shush me, listen extra closely, then say it’s just a racoon or squirrel. Well, I’m sorry Dad, no I don’t know what deer sound like─every animal sounds the same to me.

Every minute was becoming agonizing. My hands were stone cold to the point of pain, and my toes─in my too big boots─were beginning to feel the burn too.

The only big positive of this hour was the fact that we finally had some light after the sun rose, which was an event I had been looking forward to since I had stepped foot onto the lease. I was expecting this beautiful sunrise, but because of where we were sitting in our pop-up, our beautiful collage of colors was tainted by the tents' small slivers of openings and tree branches. But hey, at least I could now watch nothing instead of guessing what nothing looked like.

Two out of five antlers for Part Four.

Part Five: Deer Diary, It's Been Three Hours… (8:00am-9:00am)

Do you know that thing in Spongebob? No, I’m not talking about wumbo, and no, I’m not talking about that Seabear episode (which to be honest this pop-up tent reminds of that dang circle they drew). I’m talking about that narration voice that goes “one hour later” or “one day later.” Yeah that’s how I felt, except “three hours later.”

This had to be the most boring and agonizing hour of my hunt. My Dad on the other hand looked fine, whereas I was slowly freezing to death, and that 4:30am wake up time was finally catching up to me. My Dad told me he would watch everything if I wanted to take a nap, but I’ve never been good at naps, I’m not a nap girly. So, I just shut my eyes and hoped sleep would take me. My Dad claims that because of hunting he learned how to sleep sitting up, which is probably how he can take naps anywhere now, during any time of day.

A look into what my Dad was doing majority of our hunt: sitting, while clutching his crossbow.

My hands were so cold, and so were my toes─in that moment I remember thinking to myself, ‘maybe this is what Jack and Rose felt like in the Titanic.’ But I couldn’t give up and go to my Hothands, I just couldn’t, I wasn’t a wuss, I could last a couple more hours right?

Besides my nap and the cold, the only interesting thing that happened within this hour was listening to someone duck hunt farther away from us, which if you're curious just sounded like TONS AND TONS of random gunshots. Another thing that happened was an armadillo or squirrel eating some deer corn we left right outside of our tent. Like I said, if I heard anything around me, I would jump up and get ready, yet to my disappointment it would always be a rodent.

My Dad posing for the camera, while holding his crossbow, getting in position just in case he shoots something.

At this point, I was beginning to lose hope. I had been up for five hours, I was freezing, I hadn’t eaten anything, and my butt was beginning to get stiff from sitting in a stupid (tiny) foldable chair. I was beginning to lose it, and that’s when I caved─I had to open my Hothands.

Opening the plastic packaging was loud, don’t get me wrong, but I needed relief. However, just as I was centimeters away from my sweet relief, my Dad jolted up, touching my arm, telling me to slowly set the packaging down as he spotted something in the distance.

Two out of five antlers for Part Five.

Part Six: “Bringing Home The Groceries” (9:00am-10:00am)

I think this is the moment that makes so many people captivated by hunting. That moment you spot something and your heart begins to race, maybe your palms begin to sweat, maybe your body jitters with anticipation. At that moment I wasn’t cold, I wasn’t tired, I was suddenly energized by the entrance of two does.

Together the does carefully made their way over to the feeder, and began to eat as if they were starving, scarfing down as much as they could while still being aware of what's around them.

I then looked over at my Dad─who yes, had his crossbow ready, but was waiting for something bigger if it approached─and he had a look on his face that only saw on special occasions. The only way I could describe how he looked was as a kid on Christmas day, like when a kid walks downstairs and sees what Santa left them, and wonders how some jolly old man made it to their house and gave them presents. Those deer were a present to my Dad.

A picture of all three of the does we saw while on our hunt.

This began to make me think. When we visualize hunters I feel like all we see are rednecks, survivalists, maybe killers. But what if on the inside they’re just people with a special connection to the outdoors, a person who craves the comradery of other people and a community to belong to?

Then coming from the left side of the field came a tiny buck, not one big enough to risk killing without an open butcher (fun fact when the butcher isn’t open you either have to hang the dead deer up in a tree, or we’d have to fill the back of my Dad’s truck with ice and leave it there overnight).

With a third deer joining the party, wanting his fair share of food, there was definitely more to watch. And when I mean we watched, we watched in total for around forty minutes, which was the longest my Dad said he’d ever seen a group of deer continuously feed off a feeder together. After about forty minutes my Dad made a little slithering snake sound, which scared the deer enough to get them to run away.

But in that hour we just sat and watched, we didn’t need to say any words to understand what was happening, or to enjoy it. The only words that were said in that moment came from my Dad, while sitting on the edge of his seat, eyes lusted with wonder: “Aren’t they beautiful,” he whispered to me. “Yes,” I whispered back, as one of the does looked directly at me─they indeed were.

A picture of one of the does staring straight at my camera, while the other continues feeding on corn.

Five out of five antlers for Part Six.

Part Seven: Gordon Ramsay Level Goodness (10:00am-12:00pm)

When the deer left I was finally able to stand up and stretch. I was one-hundred percent ready to say goodbye to my crappy foldable chair, that dang pop-up, and the chilling cold. We each gathered our things, crawled out of the pop-up, and said goodbye to “Big Boss.”

A good look at the deer lease during the daylight.

The walk from the pop-up to the car was actually pretty peaceful, it wasn’t pitch black, the sun was out so it wasn’t as cold. The random noises of the woods no longer scared me, in fact I welcomed them. And when we made it to the car, it felt like I had beat the hardest level of a video game, or survived the wild. The heat of the car was like a warm blanket, and felt like a nice treat after the morning I had endured.

My victory pose after successfully finishing out my hunting expedition.

The final step in my hunting adventure was lunch at a gas station, restaurants hybrid called Joes. This, according to my father, was the culinary capital of Hallot, Oklahoma.

One last goodbye picture of Hallet, Oklahoma before I left.

While there I also used the bathroom, and let me just say, I think I now know why more women don’t hunt. I had in total three layers of pants including to my coveralls, so you should just assume that my full bladder did not take kindly to my delayed undressing.

After that my Dad picked out a corn dog with fries, as I went for a mediocre calzone, and we finished off our meal with what my Dad calls “no name brownies.”

Then we got his truck and headed home with a surplus of gas station food and new memories.

Five out of five antlers for Part Seven.

Part Eight: The Aftermath

It’s been about two weeks since my big hunt, and I’m still scrambling to figure out my true thoughts on it. Never in my life did I imagine I would ever go hunting with my Dad, yes it put food on the table for us, but honestly I was very indifferent to his hunting hobby.

However, this year more than ever, especially now that I’m Senior, has shown me how valuable time is with family. And, if spending five hours in a pop-up tent in the middle of Hallot, Oklahoma was a way to spend time with my Dad, then so be it.

This experience has also opened my eyes at how my parents have always put me first, in the sense of supporting me with my activities, or maybe going to places I like, or doing things that I want to do. Maybe I should start to put my parents first, maybe I should make it a goal to do more things that my parents like, or prioritize.

Was hunting my favorite thing in the world? maybe not. But what I do know is that, that time I spent with my Dad was precious, and if I would’ve known that hiding in a camo tent in the middle of the woods at four in the morning would bring him that much joy─and give us something special to look back on─I would’ve done it much sooner.

Five out of five antlers for Part Eight.

If you or someone you know wants to get into hunting click here for more info! And I should know, I’m basically an expert now… Right?