"Deer Camp in Wine Country" // American Blacktail
Words and Photography by Austin Stapleton
Read Time: 5 minutes
There’s a certain phrase that gets used a lot in the hunting world. It is said in many different ways but the basis is that “It’s not about the killing of the animal, but the journey of the hunt and who you share it with.” Honestly it translates into all sorts of different genres of life:
"Success is a journey, not a destination." -Helen Keller
“A journey is best measured in friends, rather than miles” - Someone who hasn’t drove a Chevy through the hills of Tennessee apparently
“Live. Laugh. Love.” - Daniel Haas
“Life is a beach, I’m just playin in the sand” - Lil Wayne
Anyways.. you get it. With each goal comes a start and a finish. If you love deer hunting you would love the journey of a blacktail camp in Northern California and here is a short look into ours to show you why.
From the north to the south, California is such an unbelievable diverse state. You have waves, mountains, unbelievable fishing and hunting opportunities around every corner.
Honestly, this trip is one of my favorites every year. Being from Tennessee, spot and stalking deer with a bow is something we never really do. My buddy Mike Idell from California, however, has become quite used to the tactic.
After spending a few days further south of our hunting ground getting tight on some fish, we headed up to chase what we were really there after: The Great American Blacktail.
Hunting these deer is something that will break your heart quicker than your 4th grade girlfriend. The sun rises at 5:30 and sets at 9, and temperatures range from 50 degrees to 105. Stalking in the terrain is like “walking on dry ground that resembles a floor covered in potato chips 6-inches deep,” according to Mike.
It teaches you patience there no doubt.
The best part of the day is either killing a deer and cheering some Champagne or talking about a blown stalk over a glass of the nectar of California grapes back at the house that night.
This trip, it took us till the last day of camp to finally break out the bubbly.
I started the day on top of a hill glassing / getting over my halibut, cheese, olives, and maybe a glass or two of wine hangover. it didn’t take long before I spotted a buck that I had been after a few days before. He was bedded down about 300 yards away. The stalk across land mines of poison oak and ground made of chips had begun.
Meanwhile, Mike was making his way down the hill to glass and watch from a different angle in case the deer or his buddy's deer got up and walked to him before I could make a move.
About two hours later the buck had walked in to 10 feet beside me. Seeing him out of the corner of my eye, I swung my bow, pulled back and the rest is history... Just kidding. As I saw him, he saw me, and he got the hell out of Dodge. My hunt was over.
I know as you're reading this you’re probably thinking: “Yo, you said you popped a bottle of bubbly on the last day.” Well, I said my hunt was over. 5 days, countless stalks in the blazing heat, all for just one big California hangover. I called Mike and told him what had happened. We were both defeated. Until, Mike suddenly hung up on me.
Somewhere in the midst of my stalk, across the ravine, a buck had slipped in to 25 yards of Mike. Within a minute of him hanging up I hear an arrow fly and make contact. The deer crashed right down from me maybe 30 yards from where Mike shot him.
A true whirlwind of emotions. I’ve never been so happy after blowing a stalk in my life. We had got it done. Like the kicker for the Tennessee Vols hitting the winning field goal in the final seconds of the game against Alabama, October 15 2022. Mike had come in clutch.
I hope this short story and the photos push you to explore more than where you live and where you came from. Grab a hunting buddy and go drink too much wine, eat new foods, get tight on some fish, hunt blacktail deer somewhere in California, and enjoy the journey along the way.
***Ps to my 4th grade girlfriend.. I’m over you
