Pennsylvania Game News - August 2009 - 22

only thing important about going hunting.” I was stunned. I thought it was the only important thing. It took me a few more opening days to understand what he was talking about. Friendships, family, camp life and time with Dad, those were the important things. As our journey began that day, we traveled through Eau Claire, Emlenton, Knox, Rays Corners, Lucinda, Leeper and then Marienville. In Marienville, we had to stop at Phillips Market. Cheese, ring bologna and two bags of fresh roasted peanuts, still warm and placed in a brown paper bag. And off again to complete the last 17 miles to the village of Barnes. After a 2-hour ride we finally arrived. There it was, a 10- x 20-foot brown, insulbrick beauty, complete with two rooms, a pot belly coal stove and a path. We opened camp by getting a fire started and I walked to the spring to get water. The water buckets were 2½ gallons, and by the time I walked the 100 yards back to camp, there was only about a gallon left in them. Gear unloaded, food put away, guns on the rack, I settled in for my first opening day weekend. Sunday morning started with a trip to Sheffield for church and the Sunday paper. By the time we returned, my cousin Clair Kriebel was in camp. We took a trip to the woods to inspect and repair the “seat” in preparation of the next day’s hunt and then headed back to camp. The next few hours I watched out the small, 2-foot-square windows, looking for Uncle Frank’s Chevy pickup. Finally, he arrived and carried in a roasting pan that was still warm from his home in Dutch Hill, Clarion County. The pan contained a roasted chicken 22 that Aunt Lois had sent for Sunday dinner. Dinner over, clothes and gear ready for opening day, another trip to the spring for water, and it was again time to relax. At 9 p.m. I was sent to bed; 4:30 would come quickly. In the next room, I climbed in the top bunk and got as close as I could to the 12-inch circle that had been cut into the upper corner of the wall to circulate heat, so I could still hear the conversation. “Hubert, do you remember opening day of 1939?” my Uncle Frank asked. “Sure do, Frank,” came the response. “That was a good one, both of us filling our tags. But how about opening day 1946? That was a great day, too.” I’m not sure how long the stories went on, but I know they lasted long after I fell asleep. Next thing I knew it was 4:30. I was being awakened by my father and felt as if I had just fallen asleep. I hoped to see a huge buck, like the one I’d dreamed about. I washed the sleep out of my eyes, ate a good breakfast and began getting dressed to spend the whole day outside. I checked and rechecked: gloves, ammo, flashlight, lunch. It was 5:30 and time to head out. As Dad got the camp ready to close, Clair, Uncle Frank and I waited outside. In the darkness, Uncle Frank asked, “Jim, do you have your nail with you?” “Nail? What nail?” I responded. “To bite down on when the fever sets in,” was the answer. “Fever? What fever?” “Why, the buck fever. It’s a terrible thing to get. You see a deer or hear a shot and you begin to shake. The shaking increases until you put that nail in your mouth and bite down on it to stop the fever.” Now how, I wondered, could my dad have forgotten such an important piece of information? Back into camp I went, rummaging through the drawers until I GAME NEWS

Pennsylvania Game News - August 2009

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