I spent the night before deer season at Jim Welch’s deer camp in Chelsea, Vermont. His camp is an old school bus, outfitted with a woodstove and a couple pallets in the back for sleeping. To get to it you have to drive through Mr. Bradshaw’s barnyard and then about a half mile across a field. The bus has been there for as long as Jim can remember and Mr. Bradshaw lets him use it.
So a bunch of Jim’s friends were coming out to the bus to do what they always do the night before deer season, which is mostly drink beer, tell deer stories, eat burned hamburgers, bitch about hunting permissions and land use and give each other a hard time. And no surprise, there was plenty of profanity. And since there’s no movie theater, no bowling alley or much cell service in this valley, fun is something you have to make up together as you go along….