Hundreds of thousands of blaze-orange clad hunters will take to the woods in Wisconsin this weekend for the start of the state’s nine-day annual gun deer hunting season.

Hunting is not only a traditional outdoor activity practiced by family and friends for recreation, it has two other key goals. First, it helps supplement the protein sources for hunters and families which eat venison and provides a source of meat to food pantries. Second, it manages the population of Wisconsin’s whitetail deer herd, which without hunting, would quickly make driving far more dangerous due to increased car-deer crashes.

I was born into a family of hunters, so, when I became 12, I passed my hunter’s safety class and started joining my family for the deer hunt.

I was the first youthful party crasher to a group that included about eight family members including my dad, two uncles and some distant cousins. We hunted in Adams County on land owned by companies that harvested timber to make paper.

Because this was the first time the group had a “kid” around, my presence made things awkward. I learned what is said and done at deer camp stays at deer camp.

While I held up my end of the bargain, I made a number of awkward mistakes and must have infuriated my dad during those first few years I was hunting.

For example, I walked more than a mile in the wrong direction on a deer drive.

Generally, we had enough drivers that you could always see a driver on either side of you when we pushed through woods. The drivers were briefed in detail before we started. For some reason, this 600-yard deer drive was going to be so easy that few explanations were given. I was going to be a driver and I was positioned between two other walkers and told to walk east until I came to an open area where there was open ground due to an electrical line. That’s where I would see the standers and the drive would end.

I walked into the woods and somehow got myself turned around so much in the first 100 yards that I was standing at a road. I wasn’t told there were any roads on the drive, but I was told it would be short and I should walk due east. I looked around, saw no other drivers, and checked my compass. I figured if I continued heading east, I’d be fine. Early in the drive I had to walk through a lot of thick branches and underbrush, which slowed me down compared to the other drivers.

I crossed the road and walked on.

I continued to follow my compass and walked, walked and walked. I hiked more than a mile through the woods without seeing another hunter or hearing a shot. I never felt “lost,” because Adams County’s wooded areas are basically mile sections crossed by half-mile roads and quarter-mile roads. I knew eventually I would find another road, and that’s exactly what happened. The road was across from the open electrical high-wire area I was supposed to find. When I stepped out onto the open, I looked what I thought was south of me, I saw a group of tiny blaze orange specs about a mile-and-a-half away. That was the rest of my hunting party.

I started walking back to my hunting party and figured I had royally messed up. When coming upon my dad and others I was questioned, “How did you end up walking so far away on a short drive?”

I had made a mistake by crossing a road. While I was being read the riot act over that, one of my uncles asked for my compass and he walked away from the group with it. As the “lecture” continued filled with colorful language and phrases you would not read in a “better mentoring” manual, the uncle with my compass returned and informed everyone that my compass was “junk.” Many people then looked at my compass and found it consistently pointed in the wrong direction.

I realized people were upset because they had been worried about me. I was given a spare compass that worked correctly and soon we were on our way to another location and deer drive. The same thing did not happen again.

My first few years of hunting included more awkward moments. Three years later another younger cousin joined the group and I witnessed him go through many of the same things I had gone through.

I’ve been deer hunting 40 years and this will be my son’s eighth hunt. I learned lessons on how to be a better hunting mentor and I enjoy hunting. Getting to hunt and having a safe hunt is the goal. Seeing deer is a bonus. Harvesting a deer is a gift. Spending time together is the big thing.

I don’t like to make hunting insufferable and on very cold days I’ve been know to build a small fire to make things cozy. I’m glad I never got buck fever to the point where hunting wasn’t fun. People wouldn’t go hunting if they didn’t love it — it’s too hard.

Good luck to all of those heading to the woods!

— Matt Johnson is publisher of the Monroe Times. His column is published Wednesdays.