Log Cabin Chronicles


Live Whitetail deer

© John Mahoney

Poor old Bambi has been on the run for more than a week and I reckon she has her hooves crossed that it won't snow before the season ends.

Lest you think this is another anti-hunting column, let me quickly set you straight.

Although I post our 30 acres (I closed our land after I was threatened several times by men with guns posing as sportsmen) and favor creation of no-hunting Conservation Zones by those so inclined, I do not oppose licensed, weapons-qualified people with good attitudes hunting legal game.

Really, the deer herd is so large that it needs thinning and probably it's a good idea to kill the females as well as the males. Or we could import wolves for a natural cull, but I don't think that idea would make it to the top of the flagpole, much less be saluted.

However, there is one sub-species of armed deerslayer that really gets my knickers in a twist -- the Quebec Road Hunter. You know the sportsman I mean. He's got it all -- the four-wheel drive, the fluorescent clothing, the high-powered weapon, the six-pack.

Give him this, though -- he doesn't usually drive fast. No, this keen-eyed nature lover drives real slow, sipping and searching for something to shoot. Don't make Bubba no never-mind that the land next to the road is posted. Or is your front pasture. Or your yard.

Watch his brake lights come on when he catches a glimpse of your cow, your dog, maybe your kids playing out at the edge of the pasture. Mark his slow, relentless passage through your rural neighborhood by the trash he throws out the window of his expensive vehicle. Meet his steady gaze as he prays for you to turn into a deer before his very eyes...

Lordy, I'm glad it's a short season.

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Copyright © 1998 John Mahoney/Log Cabin Chronicles/11.97