Showing new members the ropes

I visited northern Grant County with Chad Hamlin and his young son Hayden, both freshly minted members of Old Belfast Hunting Club.

Any Old Belfast member that sponsors a new member is responsible for finding his recruit one good place to hunt. We had some turnover this year because an entire family bailed after a cutover claimed their campsite. The camp experience was very important to them. Camp areas big enough for a group that large are in short supply at Old Belfast, so they moved elsewhere. Their departure left a lot of hunting spots open for new members that replaced them.

First I showed the Hamlin boys the gates and then took them down Old Camden Road for a tour of the west side of the property.

“Everything on the left is us,” I said. “Everything on the right is other clubs.”

We passed a series of gated interior roads.

“Everything behind those gates is ours, too, but all that property is claimed by people that have been hunting together since forever,” I said.

After hearing that a few times, Chad started sounding anxious.

“How hard is it going to be to find a spot?” he asked.

“Not hard at all,” I said. “There’s some open spaces at the west end that are prime. The stuff closest to the road is probably taken, but if you don’t mind walking, there’s a lot of prime deer cover in the interior.”

At the last intersection, I got confused. I used to hunt this section a lot, but it looked strange to me. I told Chad to take a wrong turn, and then I was lost. I did what I always do in that situation. I called Mike Romine, now the club president.

“Did we lose that big chunk of property to the south?” I asked.

“Nuh, uh,” Romine grunted, perplexed.

“Oh, never mind,” I said. “We’ve got Billy Peel in the truck with us. He turned the map upside down.”

The late Billy Peel, Romine’s irascible father-in-law, was notorious for being unable to read maps or follow directions. And then he’d argue with you until neither of you knew which side was up.

“Dang, son, you’ll be in Fordyce if he’s riding with you,” Romine said, laughing. “What are you looking for down there, anyway?”

“Trying to find a place for Chad Hamlin to hang a stand.”

“I’ve already put his name on that big box stand on the main road down from the camp,” Romine said.

I should have known. Romine takes care of everything and everyone.

We found a second spot at the edge of a clearcut overlooking a streamside management zone.

“Deer will walk that ravine,” I said. “I’d find a tree on that ridge overlooking that spot where the SMZ meets that thicket, and you should be golden.”

I looked at Hayden and said, “Killing deer is not going to be a problem out here. It’s a rare day when you don’t see deer out here.”

I looked at Chad and said, “We got deer out here that ain’t NEVER been kilt.” That’s one of Romine’s favorite sayings, and it made them laugh.

“Seriously,” I said, “a lot of new people are looking for places to hunt. If I were you, I’d put a marker up ASAP. You can tape a laminated piece of paper with your name and number on it to a tree, or you can write it on duct tape with a Sharpie and wrap it around a tree. But don’t wait around.”

After getting that spot squared away, I took the Hamlins on a walkabout into the woods where I hunt. I pointed out places that have special memories for me and then showed them my favorite stand.

“We’re allowed to have three, but I spend 90% of my time right here,” I said.

I took them to my second stand, which is only about 175 yards away.

“Interesting thing about this place is that it’s different deer that come through here than go by the other place,” I said.

Walking back to camp, I gushed about how glad we are to have the Hamlins as members.

“We don’t have many kids in this club anymore,” I said. “We used to have a bunch, but they all grew up.”

“Funny how that happens,” Chad said.

“This bunch is all about kids,” I said. “Hayden will be like royalty here,”

That made them smile.