Deer Hunters - good or bad?!
Nov 21 '00 (Updated Apr 11 '01)
The Bottom Line Since we have disturbed the balance of nature, hunting, in some cases, is required. Hunters should be properly educated and not licensed until proficient in all hunting skills.
This review is updated with the addition of one of my favorite hunting poems.
Since we have managed to eliminate the natural enemy of the deer in most areas here in the US, hunting deer is somewhat of a necessity. Nature used to be able to control the deer population just fine, the sick and injured were quickly eliminated, leaving the healthy to multiply.
But we've disturbed the balance of nature, and it is now up to man to keep the deer population in check and, ideally, weed out the weak and sick.
This is where the problem lies. Few hunters can consider themselves true 'hunters', skilled marksmen who know how to properly administer that fatal shot so that the animal does not have to suffer, who are in tune with nature, observe the rules and respect the hunted.
Unfortunately the truly skilled hunter is hard to find. If you are one of those, this editorial is not directed at you. The only thing I would ask of you is to help educate those who violate every rule of hunting, and therefore give all of you a bad name.
Having lived on prime hunting land for years, I have my share of horror stories to tell. Never mind the constant and defiant trespassing in spite of numerous 'No Hunting' signs on private land, I have to contend with poachers, spot lighters, idiots shooting out of moving vehicles, and being so brazen as to blast off so close to my house that I find ammunition shells on my front porch.
They have left dead carcasses in my front yard, left crippled animals for me to watch suffer. I have seen deer with arrows stuck in them, and once watched that great white hunter kill a 6 month old fawn, so small he could pick it up with one hand and throw it in the back of his truck.
You wonder how I witness all of this. Easy, from the deck of my house, armed with a pair of binoculars in one hand and a phone in the other, desperately trying to summon the game warden to stop these massacres. When he does show up it's usually too late (one game warden covers three counties). Only once has he managed to arrest someone.
I can't remember ever being able to enjoy Thanksgiving, with shots ringing out from the crack of dawn. Every hunting season is a nightmare and I feel I am as much of a victim as the deer. I can't let my dogs out unattended and even then I make them wear a bright red bandana so some trigger happy jerk in the woods won't mistake them for a deer. After all, their motto seems to be 'if it moves shoot it'!
And then there is the individual (I really don't want to call him a hunter) who has donned his camouflage outfit, smears himself all over with doe scent (so he smells like a doe in heat), then sits on his tree stand or hides in the bushes, waiting for the rutting buck to walk in front of his rifle. Now, the following is what I would like to do to that particular person and you be the judge whether or not it would be considered 'fair'.
While Mr. Hunter sits in the bushes, a gorgeous female comes walking along, winks at him and motions for him to come closer. He can't believe his good fortune and hurries toward her. Just then a shot rings out and while taking his last breath he realizes he's been tricked. Sounds familiar? Only in this case it would be considered murder.
There is a place for hunting. To be a good hunter requires more than being able to pull the trigger. It requires knowledge about the animal, it's anatomy, it's habits, it's environment, but most of all, it requires compassion, something few 'hunters' seem to have.
I wished we could rid ourselves of all the bad boys out there in the woods and let the good hunters do what needs to be done, so that we, our children and grandchildren can enjoy a healthy deer population for years to come.
I would like to leave you with the following poem I clipped out of a newspaper years ago, it still brings tears to my eyes today. Allthough not related to deer hunting specifically, it's a reminder that animals have a social structure, they can be happy as well as sad, they feel pain just like we do, and some species even mate for life.
A HUNTER'S POEM
A hunter shot a flock of geese
That flew within his reach.
Two were stopped in their rapid flight
And fell on the sandy beach.
The mail bird lay at the water's edge
And just before he died
He faintly called to his wounded mate
And she dragged herself to his side.
She bent her head and crooned to him
In a way distressed and wild
Caressing her one and only mate
as a mother would a child.
Then covering him with her broken wing
And gasping with failing breath
She laid her head against his breast
A feeble honk...then death.
This story is true though crudely told
I was the man in this case.
I stood knee-deep in the snow and cold
And the hot tears burned my face.
I buried the birds in the sand where they lay
Wrapped in my hunting coat.
And I threw my gun and belt in the bay
When I crossed in the open boat.
Hunters will call me a right poor sport
And scoff at the thing I did.
But that day something broke in my heart
And shoot again? God forbid!
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Member: Claudia Testa
Location: Charles Town, West Virginia
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Travel fever is chronic. I hope no one finds a cure!
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