Were somebody to compile a list of who should be considered the dean of Upper Valley
deer hunters, they’d probably put Alfred Balch at or near the top. Balch, 82, has been a deer
hunter since he was 9 years old, and he’s shot a deer just about every year since.
He still hunts the way it was done half a century ago: You pick up your open-sight rifle
and head out into the fields and woods and start looking for a deer track to follow. The hunt will be on foot over varied terrain and require real physical exertion.
It’s not done that way much anymore, and Balch, a lifelong Lyme resident, laments how
the culture of deer hunting in the Upper Valley has changed since he shot his first deer at the age of 10. He fondly recalls how, when he was a young man, he tracked a big buck all day until he finally shot it high on the shoulder of Smarts Mountain.
“It was about 4 o’clock in the afternoon. That buck weighed over 200 pounds and it
was after dark when I finally dragged it out of the woods. That kind of hunt brings a lot of
satisfaction, but you don’t see it much anymore,” he says.
The changes in Upper Valley hunting culture in modern times can be boiled down to just
two words: technology and posting.
And while the tech part has gotten ever more tilted toward the hunter, thousands upon
thousands of acres of habitat have been closed off by “No Hunting” signs. The population of deer over the region has constantly been expanding to the point where, in many localities, the animals are deemed nuisances and a serious threat to long-term forest health.
Most hunting rifles today are fitted with high-power sights that afford razor-sharp
images in their crosshairs. Bow-and-arrow hunting is shifting from traditional vertical bows to sophisticated crossbows that are aimed like a rifle and can launch an arrow that flies at 400 feet per second.
Rather than hunt on foot, many hunters take up perches on platforms and wait for the quarry to walk into view. Called deer stands, these structures are affixed to trees as much as 15 feet up, usually in areas known to be well populated with deer.
A relatively new technological addition to the deer hunter’s toolbox is the internet-
connected camera. Game cameras are cheap and easily installed to pick up images of deer and other species gamboling in the forest. The pictures are transmitted electronically to the hunter, who can be watching the show on a phone or tablet from a good distance away, possibly in the warmth of a pickup cab.
Authorities are trying to head off the unsportsmanlike optics of this practice by requiring the hunter to wait one day before pursuing an animal caught on camera.
‘It’s shocking what’s happened’
Lucky Thurston has shot a deer in the Piermont-Bradford area every year for more than
30 years, and he offers a simple, stark observation: “Cameras are ruining deer hunting.” Plenty of other hunters feel the same way, but most are resigned to their being a part of deer season for the long haul.
Jerry Robinson, a longtime Lyme-based writer for outdoor magazines now living in
Bridport, Vermont, has a view similar to Lucky Thurston’s.
“It’s shocking what’s happened. There’s no more tracking; it’s just more and more
technology, stuff like stands, fancy rifles. Kids used to learn from their elders; now it’s all about the equipment.
“And it’s all about the kill, not the hunt. That’s not hunting,” Robinson avers.
Locating up-to-date numbers for both New Hampshire and Vermont on the acreage of
land that is posted against hunting is challenging, but the “No Hunting” and “No Trespassing” signs increase every year. Some landowners abhor the idea of “shooting Bambi” and don’t want to allow gun-toting strangers on their property looking to kill the cute deer foraging in their fields.
A much bigger factor is fear of liability claims. In an era when huge judgments are
handed down in the courts and litigation can take years to finally be resolved, people think
posting their property will help ward off legal actions. It’s an attitude that often comes with new owners who have moved to town from away, or made absentee investment in raw land.
And some people just want privacy.
But both New Hampshire and Vermont have very clear laws that bar injury claims from
people who recreate on land of another, so long as the owner hasn’t willfully created a hazard or situation to intentionally harm a guest on their land.
So, if a hunter trips on a tree root and falls down, breaking an arm, there’s no recourse against the landowner. These laws have made it virtually impossible to sue a landowner who simply has allowed a party to hunt, hike, birdwatch or any similar activity on their land.
Parcels of posted land scattered here and there over the landscape can disrupt hunting
activity as much as blocking out a single large holding that has long been open to hunting. In some towns in the Upper Valley, there are situations where three or four dispersed parcels have the effect of barring hunting over hundreds of adjacent acres.
‘White-tailed rats’
Feelings that there are just too many deer are widespread over the Upper Valley region. One farmer in Sullivan County who is constantly vexed by deer damage to strawberry and vegetable crops refers to them as “white-tailed rats.” Only tall, strong fencing can protect apple crops; homeowners can see their landscape plantings devastated — deer will graze hostas right down to the dirt.
Then there’s the constant tension between motor vehicles and deer. A collision with a
yearling “spike horn” buck can easily cause $3,500 to $5,000 damage to an automobile.
Stretches of road in many towns are notorious for bounding does and gawky fawns
appearing suddenly out of roadside brush.
Wildlife management departments in both states are under continuous pressure to
manage the deer population, but they’re often in the middle of conflicting policies. Abundant deer for harvest makes hunters happy. Happy hunters buy hunting licenses, and the license revenue is the key supporter of wildlife agencies.
Dave Poole of Rumney is the Grafton County member of the New Hampshire Fish and
Game Commission. He says a key reason for the change in deer hunting culture is that the
exposure of the general population to outdoor activities is much less than it was a half century ago. And increased posting of land is impacting the way hunters approach the sport, bringing things like stands and game cameras instead of getting out in the field on foot.
The deer herd in both states is strong, compared to how it was a half-century ago. Back
in the 1970s, severe winters had thinned numbers way down; there were frequent reports of dogs “running” deer and there was continuous battling over doe season vs. bucks-only seasons.
A 1971 meeting in Hyde Park, Vermont, drew 1,400 rowdy hunters arguing over state plans to revive the deer population.
Deer “harvest” numbers for 2025 tell how different things are now. In New Hampshire,
the total kill was 14,387; Vermont’s was 17,803. License totals were at record levels — New
Hampshire’s standing at 71,000 compared to under 40,000 in 1981.
Cody Patch of Lebanon shot the second-biggest buck in the state with an animal that weighed in at 242 pounds, just 6 pounds behind the state champ’s. Vermont’s biggest was 245.
In the Upper Valley, town-by-town numbers showed Hanover with the highest total of
any town in the region, 160 head, followed by runner-up Lebanon, 159, and Plainfield, 156. On the Vermont side, Tunbridge led with 128.
Hanover’s leading performance is attributable to efforts led by Barbara McElroy, an
activist on forest conservation and invasive species. Hanover adopted a Deer Management
Assistance Program in 2018 that encourages hunters to come in and harvest what had been a burgeoning deer population, notably on the Hanover Water Works property. Deer
overpopulation was destroying young trees, as the animals ate off the leaves on seedling and emerging trees, especially young oaks.
Alfred Balch remembers
Talk to old-timers like Alfred Balch and you can hear fond recollections of deer hunting
culture 50 years ago.
He’ll reminisce about how successful hunters showed off their trophies by lashing them to the fenders of their cars and trucks to impress folks around town; about how deer carcasses were often displayed hanging from a tree limb in the dooryard for all to see; about venison meat being a vital source of winter season dietary protein for a lot of rural people; mincemeat for pies made with deer meat; deer skins that could be traded for a couple pairs of buckskin gloves; buck heads with big racks of antlers preserved and mounted on kitchen walls; and on and on.
“They’ll come around and realize it was a great tradition,” Balch predicts, with a touch of
nostalgia for the old ways.
Meriden resident Steve Taylor speaks and writes frequently on rural culture. He has
contributed to the Valley News for many years.
