Traverse City Record-Eagle

Betty Werth

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November 8, 2007

Betty Werth: Deer: Trying to keep things even

BY BETTY WERTH

Over the years I have written about the firearm deer season from a number of different angles.

I have examined its purpose, its history, its credo, its grip. I have looked at its food, fashion, weapons and accoutrements. I have discussed its preparatory rites, social conventions and similarities to other sporting seasons around the world. I have written essays, dialogues, fantasies, rhyme.

I have written from the point of view of the hunter, the hunter's wife, the hunter's daughter, the bemused spectator, the visitor from another country, the visitor from another planet.

From where I sit there's only one critical point of view left. So ...

"Dude! How are ya? Name's Hugh. Hugh Hoofner. I'm kinda new here."

"Shhh. Not so loud! It's November. Don't you know what season this is?"

"'Course I know! It's mating season."

"Yeah, well, corn-for-brains, here in Michigan it's also hunting season, and hunters are everywhere! Look up in that oak tree just to the left of the clearing. That's our friend in the brown Chevy pickup, the one who's been laying out apples and carrots at the bait pile all summer."

"Baldy? I love that guy! Except for the fact that he breaks wind when he thinks he's out here alone, he's one of my favorite humans."

"Yeah, well, he's up in that tree with a .22 just waiting for the chance to shoot you dead, cut off your head, and mount it over his fireplace."

"Gees, Bucky. Get a grip. You're not a real happy camper, are you? For a 6-point buck who must be good with the ladies, you are one grim ungulate."

"I'm always grim in November. I guess that's because I'm never sure of living to December."

"Yeah, well, there's living ... and then there's LIVING. Me, I'm doing it Large. And speaking of doing it, I see some good-looking chicks. Who's that one?"

"Deerlene."

"Nice tail!"

"She's out of your herd, Hugh. And besides that, she's dating Alph."

"Elf? What's an elf got that I haven't got?"

"Not 'Elf,' you moron! Alph! As in Alpha-Male. You must have seen him! 400 pounds, 12 point-rack, rumored to be a carnivore!?"

"Oh (snort). Him. I could take him. Let me knock back a couple of fermented apples and I'll head-butt that lumpy vat of venison into next week. Where is that big dumb son-of-a-gun, anyway?"

"It's deer season, Hugh. He's hiding. How do you suppose he got to be old enough to grow 12 points?"

KABOOM!

"Yikes!" (Dashing back for cover.) "Whew! Did you SEE that? Baldy just missed me! I thought he liked deer!"

"They all like deer. Until November. And then they stop taking pictures and start taking potshots."

"Yeah, I know. But we fight back."

"How's that?"

"For about one month a year they hunt us. For 11-and-a-half months a year we smack into their cars. Incident-for-incident, we're still a little bit ahead."

Reach Betty Werth at bwestrope@hotmail.com

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