As summer fades and deer season looms on the horizon, thousands of us are in the woods, strapping trail cams to trees all over the state. I’ve been putting some serious miles on public land, dropping pins on my map for spots that speak to me. Spots with deer potential.
At this point in the year, it’s very much a grind. The humidity’s thick as soup, the overgrown brush is filled with thorns, and I almost always end up with a mysterious rash. But it’s worth it. Trail cams are my silent partners. They’re my 24/7 eyes in the woods. They’re never tired, never noisy. They scout patterns, leave no scent, and give you an incredible amount of information before opening day.
But if I’m being honest, I don’t just hang cams for scouting deer. They’re a window into a woods with no people around. It’s like becoming Ralph Waldo Emerson’s transparent eyeball. A trail cam becomes nothing but an invisible eye, seeing everything unmolested by human interference. Pure observation with minimal disturbance.
I’ve got a favorite trail location in a large swamp Up North. I found this spot years ago in a cluster of small islands, surrounded by a fortress of cattails. I’d figured this spot might hold deer (the harder it is to get to a spot, the more other hunters are weeded out), so I hung a cam in a tiny pinch point between two of the islands.
I immediately caught a bunch of deer movement, a few small bucks with velvet antlers, a handful of does, and a beautiful mature buck cautiously making its way to a spot to nap for the day. Obviously, this was a great spot to see deer, but the real gold was the other stuff the camera picked up.
During one of the first nights, the cam snapped pics of coyotes loping through the grass with their mouths open in a semi-grin and their eyes glowing. They stopped right in front of the camera, smelled the wind, and kept moving. Then the porcupine showed up, waddling around like a little armored tank without a care in the world. Eventually, the resident bobcat showed up, and over the next few months, I caught dozens of photos of him slinking along the game trail with food still in his mouth.
This is the wonderful part about having trail cams in the woods (especially the kind that sends photos straight to your phone). You are able to witness the currents of the undisturbed woods.
The ecosystem plays out in front of you: the fights, the food, the drama. A buck chasing off a rival, black bear cubs wrestling in the leaves, turkeys dusting in the afternoon sun. It’s genuinely addictive. I check my app every morning, excited to see what went down in the dark.
Older hunters might roll their eyes at all the technology that goes into scouting for deer, saying it turns hunters into “armchair scouts” who skip out on the hard work. I disagree. Trail cams deepen my connection to the woods, pulling me back with fresh intel and excitement. It’s almost like my own episode of Planet Earth slowly playing out in front of me. The Michigan woods are an amazing place, too alive to ignore.
Hang a cam and see what happens when the woods thinks it’s alone.
James Zandstra is an experienced outdoorsman with a passion for the Mitten State. Follow his work on X @TheFairChase1.
