For senior hunters whose body and ground have changed
Hunt from the ground or a ladder, harness on, and still see deer in daylight. I've hunted the hills of eastern Kentucky for more than fifty years. I've made most of the mistakes in these books myself.
Books I and II stand on their own. Book III, The Old Hunter's Deer Camp Playbook, only comes in the collection, because it sends you back to the first two for the climbing, the shot and the tracking.
Vol. I
Harness on, or a good seat on the ground, when the climb gets hard
For the hunter whose knees or back say the climb is getting hard, and who worries about what happens if something gives way.
Best value
All three books together. They cover the whole season, from the walk in to the freezer.
Vol. II
Read the shot, wait it out, find your deer, get it home
For the deer you still think about: the shot you should have let walk, the wait before you go after it, and the trail that runs out at a fence or a creek bank.
In 2005 the timber company sold the lease I'd hunted for years. With nowhere else to go, I went back to my dad's camp. His lungs were so bad he stopped twice on the porch steps. I toted a kitchen chair up to the Bench, and it took him the better part of an hour to get there.
We sat that evening together, the first time in twenty-six years. A doe came along the Bench in the last light. Neither of us moved. Walking back he said, "Took you long enough." He died that February.
I'd left that camp in 1979 over an argument about tree stands. My dad hunted from the ground on a nail keg, and I thought I knew better. I spent twenty-six years proving a point to a man who'd quit keeping score. The ground was never a step down.
Now my knees and my back have their own say. I hunt from the ground most days, and from one ladder stand on good ones, harness on and connected. Before I go, a note goes on our icebox saying where I'm hunting and when I'll be back. These three books are what I'd tell you at the camp stove: where to hunt from, how to find the deer you hit, and how to see deer in daylight on the ground you've got. I made most of these mistakes. You don't have to.
Tell the icebox where you're headed, and come on back.Clyde, from the camp at the head of Stillhouse Branch
Each chapter runs the same seven parts in the same order. You always know where to look.
I start with what goes wrong and why, with the real body and the real hill. Usually it's a mistake of mine, told straight.
The old rule that still holds, like sitting still and reading the air. Where an old habit could get you killed, I say so and throw it out. Old ain't the same as right.
What to look at before you start. Harness and lifeline, the gun unloaded on the line, hunter orange, the cold, and a note telling somebody where you are.
A numbered job with what you need, the steps, and when to do it. Most of them you can do in the yard or at the tailgate before the season.
Signs you can see or feel that the job came out right. You're not left guessing.
The usual slips and how to fix them. These are the ones I made after years in the woods, not first-day mistakes.
A gentler way to do the same job, for knees, back, cold hands and the climb. For anything about your body, ask your doctor.
What the old hunters did that expensive gear made us forget
For the deer that are all over your cameras at night, the wind that won't hold still in a holler, feet that go cold on a long sit, and a small or crowded piece of ground.
Clyde Stamper · More than fifty years hunting the hills of eastern Kentucky
I was born in 1954 in a company house at Pruitt Fork, in the hills of eastern Kentucky. My dad was a coal miner. I worked for the rural electric co-op for forty-two years, most of them climbing poles. I'm left-handed, in a county built for the right hand.
My first deer morning was in 1968. Old Hobert put my shells in his own coat and said I'd get them when I earned them. An hour in, I reached for crackers in waxed paper, and in that quiet it sounded like a brush fire. A deer I never saw blew off the bench below, and Hobert didn't say a word until dark.
Hobert was seventy-two the morning he taught me to sit. I'm seventy-two now, and I'm still working on it. I've got one replaced knee, a back that remembers an ice storm, and a heart that sent me to the hospital once. My daughter Renee is a county paramedic and reads every word I write about height. My granddaughter Josie types it up and argues with me. I still hunt the thirty-eight acres my dad bought, most of it standing on end.
I wrote these so the next hunter can skip the part with the hospital.
If the books aren't right for you, ask for your money back within 7 days and you'll get all of it. I might ask what didn't work, so I can do better. You don't have to answer, and the refund doesn't depend on it.
They're yours right after checkout. Nothing comes in the mailbox. You open them on your phone, tablet or computer, and you can print any pages at home. If you were counting on paper books, ask for a refund and you'll get it.
You pay with PayPal or Apple Pay, the same way you would anywhere else. I never see your card.
Ask for your money back within 7 days. No conditions. I may ask what didn't work, but you don't have to say.
No. I write for folks who already know how to hunt. What changed for most of us is the body, the ground or the neighbors. That's what these books are about.
No. I don't name brands or tell you what to buy. Most chores use what's already in your shed: a seat with a back, a haul line, strips of old bedsheet. The one place I won't bend is gear that's damaged or past the maker's date. That gets replaced.
I hunt thirty-eight acres, most of it standing on end. My first year running the camp, I hunted it like a big lease and pushed every deer off the hill. Book III has a chapter called Few Acres, Few Seats. It's about hunting the land you've actually got.
That was me with a buck Josie called the Night Watchman. I sat where he ate supper. She had me move back toward where he got out of bed. Book III opens with Why They Quit Showing Up in Daylight. I can't promise you any one deer, but it'll change where you sit.
No. The old men hunted from the ground all along. The tree stand is the newcomer. Book I has a whole part called On the Ground, with a chapter on a good seat and one on the walk in.
I once sat on an upturned bucket with no backrest, facing the wrong way for a left-hander. My leg went to sleep and I rolled down the hill while a doe watched. Book I covers a seat with a back, shifting your legs before they go, and facing your strong side. If it hurts, ask your doctor.
Book I has a chapter called The Walk In Without a Stumble and a chore called Tacking the Trail at Knee Height. I spent one summer cutting switchbacks, clearing rolling rock and tying a hand line on the worst pitch of my own hill. Book III adds The Way In Matters More Than the Seat, about getting in without bumping deer.
Mark the last good sign first, with a strip of bedsheet. Then loop out slow and check water, cover and downhill. Book II has a chapter called When the Blood Runs Out and a chore called The Rag and the Loop. If the trail crosses a fence, stop and go ask. Check your state's rules on entering land and on tracking dogs.
Saddles have their place. Not for anyone whose balance, knees or shoulders are telling them something. Book I says plainly what a saddle is and who it doesn't suit, and it doesn't sell you one. Ask your doctor what's right for your body.
Every time. My friend Wendell once hung in his harness for about an hour with his phone in the truck. A chance remark at the stove is what sent me looking for him. Phone on your body, a note with a time on it, and someone who'll act on it. Then tell the icebox: leave the note that says where you'll be and when you'll be back.
No. I hunt steep hardwoods in eastern Kentucky, where a bench, a gap and the air in a holler tell you more than a map of a food plot. Book III has a chapter called Hills, Hollers and the Deep South. For the Deep South I say what I know and send you to your state agency for the rest.
Book III has a chapter called When the Woods Get Crowded, on pressure, neighbors and public ground. Josie hunts national forest ground, and she kept me honest on that one.
My neighbor Pete took up deer hunting at fifty-five with no one to teach him. He takes notes and asks good questions, and I respect that. These books assume you've hunted some. If you've had a season or two, you'll keep up fine.
All three books are yours right after checkout, and you have 7 days to decide they're right for you. Read the first chapter tonight and see if it sounds like your hill.
★ Members only · Deer Camp Circle
Every Saturday, a letter from Clyde for hunters over 60: one old-timer trick to do that week, step by step, with a season plan.
$9.99 / month
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