Back to Camp THE BEST PART OF HUNTING
BY JOHN McCLENDON
The painting “Sharing with Friends” reminds the author of his favorite part of hunting season. It hangs in the hall of John’s favorite hunting camp near Tillar, Arkansas.
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here is a piece of artwork hanging in the bunkhouse hallway of one of my favorite hunting camp destinations. The detailed scene bordered within the crooked and dusty rough oak frame has a nostalgic look, and it captures everything I like best about being a hunter. The print shows four early 19th century woodsmen gathered around a camp fire with muskets leaning against their shoulders as they smile over a large goose—the fowl obviously destined to be their dinner. The tough-looking men wear weathered buckskins, and their colorful Hudson Bay blankets are an artistic contrast against the snowy ground and surrounding dark woods. The painting is entitled “Sharing with Friends” and perfectly conveys a celebration of timeless tradition and outdoor fellowship. That image helps remind me I am at my best in the fall, surrounded by fellow hunters all living for the hunt. Down at our camp the camaraderie and cooperation in anticipation of hunting elevates my state of mind at every level. Problems from the real world evaporate in the wood smoke of a crackling fire popping at dusk, and the laughter of close friends circled around drowns out any voice of worry in my head. A hunter’s best memories all have three parts: the game being hunted, the natural surroundings of the hunt, and the people who were there and shared the experience. Those components come to mind in just that same order: the friends and family at our side during heady days afield always end up being the most important and longest lasting part of every memory. 22 | Arkansas Wild ¸ WINTER 2017
Arrival at camp is not just the beginning of another season; it is a return to who we really are, or at least who we really would like to be. The soul of a true hunter is refreshed best by experiences that are physically exhausting, mentally challenging and authentically connecting. It is not a coincidence that the strongest friendships are born of these very same elements. Our camp was my father’s dream, it is my retreat, and it will be my son’s training ground. It is where some sacred relationships first began and where mentors long departed from our presence are remembered and revered—their adventures now grown into legends. The return to hunting camp each fall is a subconscious migration back to our purest origins. There was a time on earth when every human being was a hunter, and there is something innately familiar about relaxing by a fire with friends, as past days are relived through exaggerated storytelling. The unending expanse of a clear and starry nighttime sky overhead—unspoiled by any glare of city lights—is a humility check, a visual realization of our unwarranted human arrogance. The universe we claim to master is so much bigger, so much older, than we can possibly comprehend. We are humbled by our own insignificance but find comfort in kinship with fellow hunters who share the same epiphany. It is a bond that began a hundred thousand years ago. Not everyone understands it. It can be hard to explain that a hunting camp is more of a state of mind than a place