Since my father persuaded his friend Charlie Merkle to take me deer hunting in Vilas County in November 1971, I’ve hunted only six other properties and missed only five opening days of Wisconsin’s annual firearms season.
I had valid excuses for each absence, four from Uncle Sam for the 1976-1979 openers, and one from my employer in 1999. Each time, I awoke on opening day and wondered about my missed opportunities and whether anyone was hunting where I should rightfully be.
Even now, if I think hard enough and consult my notes, I remember where I sat for every opener, right down to the tree, tree species and stand type. Rather than bore you with such specifics, I hunted the Brungardt farm in Iowa County in 1972; my Uncle Terry’s property in Langlade County in 1973, Brungardt’s farm again in 1974 and 1975; the Poygan Marsh’s public lands in Waushara County from 1980 through 1983; my Aunt Mona/Uncle Terry’s farm in Richland County from 1984 through 1998, and 1999-2010; Doug Duren’s farm in Richland County in 2011; Tom Heberlein’s shack in Ashland County in 2012; and my cousins’ farm since 2013 after they inherited the place from my late aunt and uncle.
My logs show I’ve killed 125 deer since my first hunts in 1971. I’ve never counted how many were killed with bows, rifles, muzzleloaders and shotgun slugs. I also haven’t counted how many of those kills were antlered bucks, adult does, or buck/doe fawns. Those details are in my notes. I’ve just never tallied them.
More importantly, I’ve shared most deer-season openers with many good people the past five-plus decades. One such stalwart is my daughter Leah, who first sat with me as a 6-year-old in 1991 while we hunted my aunt/uncle’s farm. Leah missed a few openers herself while serving in the Navy from 2007 through 2021, but has returned to hunt Richland County the past three openers.
This year, she’ll bring her son Lleyton, age 8, to sit with her in a two-person treestand my cousin Mike “donated” to her, not far uphill in the woods from Cousin Peg’s house. Lleyton is our crew’s first newbie in several years. Leah wants to see how he handles deer-stand vigils before introducing him to firearms and shooting lessons.
While sitting in my tripod on opening day in 2023, and watching the same corner of the Durkin farm I’ve often watched since the 1984 opener, I tried recalling others who’ve hunted the property since my first hunt there in late November 1983. By my count, 13 family members have carried rifles and hunting licenses the past 41 deer seasons, and three others occasionally made drives for us.
This year, only five of us will hunt the opener and maybe Lleyton will help make a drive. That’s the same number we had “in camp” from 2008 through 2010, with Leah filling the spot Uncle Terry created when retiring from the hunt in 2011. For whatever reason, our group can’t live “without opportunity for the exercise and control of the hunting instinct,” as Aldo Leopold wrote.
As I watch for deer from my tripod this year, I’ll also think about my late friend Tom Heberlein, who maintained a journal at his deer shack in Ashland County since 1974. His logs show at least 25 individuals hunted deer at Old T through 2023. His shack will sit quiet and vacant throughout this gun season, with no firewood smoke wafting from its old chimney.
Heberlein’s logbooks reveal the average attendance at his deer camp was four to five hunters annually, but only six individuals showed up over 10 times and another six were one-hit wonders. For his part, Heberlein never missed an opener from 1973 through 2023.
Several Heberlein crew members have excused absences this year, including death. Others will hunt elsewhere with their families and other friends, while some decided they — like some relatives who once hunted the Richland County farm — can live without hunting.
I doubt low deer sightings, shooting opportunities or fears of chronic wasting disease turned any of these folks into nonhunters. Seeing deer and launching bullets is seldom a problem on the Durkin farm, yet our dropout rate differs little from Heberlein’s Northwoods camp, where we see deer only slightly more often than we see Elvis.
So, why did so many folks quit deer hunting in Wisconsin this century? In case you missed it, Wisconsin sold a record 699,275 gun-deer licenses in 1990 and a second-best 694,712 sales in 2000. In contrast, the state sold 553,479 gun-deer licenses in 2023, a 20.3% decline of 141,233 licenses.
If hunting is all about seeing deer, how did Wisconsin sell 509,447 gun-deer licenses in 1971 when only 14% of gun-hunters killed deer? In comparison, nearly 38% of Wisconsin’s licensed gun-hunters killed deer in 2023.
A big factor in hunter declines is attrition caused by baby boomers dying or aging out of the hunting population. In addition, younger folks today seem less interested in hunting than those who grew up in the decades after World War II. To paraphrase Aldo Leopold, the hair atop these youngsters’ heads does not lift their hats when they see deer.
Such folks baffled Leopold, who wrote: “The man who does not like to see, hunt, photograph, or otherwise outwit birds or animals is not normal. He is supercivilized, and I for one do not know how to deal with him.”
No doubt, access to hunting land — and hunting opportunities — are important, but would more opportunity and more deer reverse declining hunter numbers?
I doubt it. Many things factor in individually, collectively and unexpectedly. For instance, CWD worries and deer superabundance can both reduce hunting excitement, and hurt participation as reliably as do low deer numbers. In love and hunting, passions cool when thrills become rare, common or worrisome.
As my grandkids start joining our deer hunts, I suspect they’ll return only if they sense hunting’s strongest motivations aren’t just deer numbers and shooting opportunities.
Deer are vital, of course, but hunting also requires memories, excitement and human connections that are bigger and more enduring than individual deer or deer hunters.
To endure, hunting requires memories and human connections that are more enduring than individual deer or deer hunters. — Patrick Durkin photo