What do you get when you combine a bunch of good ol' boys, more than a few beers, a deer camp with no deer, and mash them together for 30 years? You get Camp "Cantkilladeer." The Masters ain't got nothing on us—this is actually a tradition unlike any other. Enjoy your inside glimpse.
I wrote a short piece on the background and driving force behind our beloved deer camp, which you can read here, but here's the gist: my dad and some of his best friends kicked off a yearly gathering among the pines of East Texas, designed to emphasize time together over trophies on the wall, something we've managed to accomplish for 30 years straight. We had four generations represented at camp for our 30th year in 2025, and everyone survived. Deer included.
A deer camp needs to be far from fancy, and this spot fits the bill. Light beer over white linens, venison over valet.
It's called Camp "Cantkilladeer," not Camp "Wontkilladeer," but we don't try too hard. We did manage to put some pork and fresh rabbit on the table to accompany some top-notch Mexican food.
It's called Camp "Cantkilladeer," not Camp "Wontkilladeer," but we don't try too hard. We did manage to put some pork and fresh rabbit on the table to accompany some top-notch Mexican food.
This deer camp has been around far longer than we've been meeting up, and it's dripping with hunting patina at every turn.
This deer camp has been around far longer than we've been meeting up, and it's dripping with hunting patina at every turn.
With each passing year, I enjoy the generational aspect more than anything—seeing young hunters who're taking up the torch for responsible hunting followed by slightly irresponsible shenanigans.
With each passing year, I enjoy the generational aspect more than anything—seeing young hunters who're taking up the torch for responsible hunting followed by slightly irresponsible shenanigans.
Photography by Steve Schwartz