Tucked deep into the coastal flatwoods and marshes of extreme South Jersey, where pine thickets brush up against soy fields and tidal marshes fade into salt air, Robert Loper quietly walks a different kind of line. These days, it’s one less patrolled by steel doors and sirens—and more by hoof prints and scrape lines. But behind the saddle, beyond the bow, is a man whose past weighs heavy, and whose future hinges on the stillness of the woods.
Loper doesn’t just hunt deer—he fights for peace with every sit.
Hard Years Working Maximum Security
Before bowhunting became his lifeline, Robert spent two decades working one of New Jersey’s roughest maximum security prisons. He retired early—emotionally broken and spiritually bruised. “If I didn’t have bowhunting,” he admitted, “I wouldn’t be here.” The weight of trauma, both from violent inmates and toxic coworkers, left a mark no therapy could scrub away. But the woods offered something else: healing.
“I was never a tough guy,” he said. “But I was fair. Firm. And I always tried to talk to people like they were human.”
Jersey’s Underdog Deer Scene
For all his grit and wisdom, Robert doesn’t claim to be chasing 180-inch bucks. In South Jersey and Southern Delaware, mature bucks are rare, habitat is fragmented, and pressure is brutal. “If you kill a 110- to 120-inch buck here, you’re like an Andre D’Acquisto,” he joked. “People just don’t get how small and pressured these deer are.”
Bait piles litter the woods. Gun clubs push deer in giant drives. And the state allows hunters to take up to seven bucks a season. “It’s just too much,” Robert said bluntly. “This place could be amazing if they’d just let deer grow.”
Born From the Bay
Robert comes from saltwater stock—his family ran commercial clam boats out of Cape May, working alongside the Truex racing family. But when the boats were sold and the family’s focus shifted inland, Robert found a new obsession. At first it was rabbit hunting, then deer. And by the mid-90s, he was working at a sporting clays range and diving headlong into bow season.
He admits he didn’t know much at the start. “I used to hunt over corn piles in a ladder stand,” he laughed. “Then I got sick of not killing what I wanted. So I started studying deer. Hard.”
The Mobile Mindset
For Robert, it’s all about the learning curve. No presets. No shortcuts. No blind hope. “I don’t bait anymore. I’m mobile. I scout. I read sign,” he said. “If the sign doesn’t say ‘hunt here,’ I turn around and go home.”
He’s been saddle hunting since before it was trendy—hauling early Trophyline rigs and now running a Cruiser XC. With B-Sticks and a fixed platform, Robert adjusts his setup by season and terrain, often climbing no higher than one or two sticks. “If I’m sweating on the way up, I’m doing it wrong,” he said.
Reading the Room, Deer-Style
Where some see trails and rubs, Robert sees strategy and survival. “These deer know where we park, where we walk. They’re watching us more than we think,” he said. He studies bedding habits, thermals, entry routes—hell, he’ll sit in a buck bed for 15 minutes just to see what it sees.
He doesn’t buy into the luck myth either. “People say 99% of deer hunting is luck? Nah. If you know your wind, know the pressure, and you hunt smart—you’re gonna get chances.”
Scent Control and Skepticism
Scent-proof suits and miracle products? He’s not buying it. “You can’t beat their nose,” Robert said. “Hunt the wind. Use milkweed. Be smart about your thermals. Period.” His philosophy is brutally simple: think like the deer and walk like a snail. “I’ve taken 90 minutes to move 50 yards,” he said. “That’s how you close the gap.”
Peak Rut and Personality
He’s also got strong opinions on deer behavior—especially during the rut. “Big bucks? They’re narcissists,” he said. “They want to see and smell everything. But they’re not running three miles for a doe. Most stay tight. They’ve got their route. They’ve got history.”
He believes mature does are actually the smarter animal. “She’s watching for the whole family. I hate hunting does. They’ll blow you out of a spot way quicker than a buck.”
A Heart Bigger Than His Platform
For all the tactics, for all the pain he’s carried, Robert’s real legacy might be his willingness to give back. “I want to mentor,” he said. “Get some old-school hunters like us to help the new guys. Not with gear. With knowledge.” He dreams of a national rut forecast system built by hunters from every region. Just boots-on-the-ground, no-BS data from real people who live it.
“Deer hunting saved my life,” he said. “And if I can help one person fall in love with it the way I did—it’s worth it.”
