Hunting season

So I’ve been a little behind in the blog-department… life, and nice summer/fall days have deterred me. But all that freedom and enjoying the outdoors will change this weekend.

If you don’t live in an area where hunting is rampant, you’ll likely be unable to relate here. But feel free to sympathize as my life becomes engulfed by blaze orange (after a season covered in camouflage).

Simple walks or jogging become hazardous, unless you’re covered head-to-toe in lovely, blaze orange attire—which really accentuates your pallor this time of year.

Leftover Halloween candy is suddenly confiscated by deer hunters to stuff into their coat pockets and inhale while they waste, I mean hunt, their hours away in a tree stand.

The thing is; I used to be one of them. City-slicker-me, who had no idea growing up where beef and pork came from until I spent some time on a farm. After getting married and moving “up north”, I was enlightened as to what people do around here to deer. Shoot them.

Yes, poor Bambi—and his mom and dad, are ruthlessly hunted, and then (oh, I don’t want to think about this part) mysteriously appear on our dinner plates a few weeks later. Savages, yes. After going through the butchering process myself, I can assure you I wait a good long time before I can stomach any venison. I can still see those soulful brown eyes gazing at me when I close my eyes.

I have to tell you, I wasn’t your typical hunter. I was told “Deer can smell you a mile away, and can hear every little move. Don’t eat anything out there, not even gum, and don’t move a muscle.”

Hah! I’m not a good “sitter”, plus who wants to just waste time swaying way up high in a deer stand while sllllllllooowwwlllllly turning your head to look for deer? Not me. So I’d pack a lunch, and bring a book. Yes, a book. Read a page, gaze around me, read another page, repeat. I’m here to tell you, it’s a productive way to hunt. I had many years of success!

I actually feel sorry for the area men. For two weeks before hunting, they can’t sleep. Or, if they do, they’re hunting the elusive buck in their dreams. Then their neck swells to twice its normal size as they go into “rut”. And, if they actually shoot the elusive buck, then their head swells to twice its normal size!

So maybe instead of feeling sorry for me, I should ask you to empathize with our deer hunters. Or, at least, please keep them in your prayers. As annoying as this “season” can be, we’d like it if they all get through it safely.