I was talking with a guy the other day when the conversation shifted to deer hunting. That was when he asked where I hunted. Not if I was a hunter, but where I hunted.
I found that odd since I have never gone hunting for deer, or any other animal, at any time in my life. Don't get me wrong. I'm sure I would enjoy killing a cute, defenseless animal as much as the next guy, but there are several reasons I stay at home when others are out in the deer woods.
First, you have to get up way too early. I am not opposed to getting up early, but I refuse to wake up before the sun comes up, well, unless I'm getting paid. And I'm sure not going to get up early and freeze my butt off while waiting to shoot a deer.
My dad used to get me up early in the morning and take me fishing. We would be out on the water and watch the sun come up. There is nothing like seeing the sun come up when you are on the water. It makes you think, "I should be in bed right now. What in the world am I doing trying to catch fish?"
I enjoyed fishing with my dad, but why in the world do fish only bite in the morning? And for that matter, why do you have to get up so dang early to shoot deer. Deer walk around in the afternoon, I promise. As a matter of fact, one just about ran out in front of me the other day and it was mid-afternoon. Wouldn't that have ticked some deer hunters off if I had bagged one with my car while they froze their butts off in the early morning hours waiting for a deer to cross their path?
Of course, that is another reason I don't deer hunt. Let's just say that patience is not one of my stronger points. I'm so impatient I always set toast to brown on the lowest setting because I can't wait the extra 15 seconds for it to brown longer. So imagine me out in the woods, in the cold, early in the morning, waiting for a deer while holding a loaded gun. Fifteen minutes after I got comfortable in the deer blind I'm sure I would just start shooting at anything that moved. And if it was perfectly still, I would still shoot something, just so I didn't get bored.
That is another reason I stay away from deer hunting. Let's just say you don't want me around with a loaded gun. What happened to Dick Cheney could easily happen to me because a sniper I am not. While I have become deadly with my BB pistol, something tells me that wouldn't transfer over to a rifle. The last time I shot a rifle I aimed at a can and missed so badly we didn't even see where the bullet hit. Thank goodness we were in a gravel pit instead of, say, the deer woods.
And what would I do if I, by some miracle, actually hit a deer? I don't want to kill a deer. It didn't do anything to me and I sure don't want to have my picture taken with a dead animal to put in the newspaper. That is always disgusting with the deer's tongue hanging out and all that.
What is so great about killing a deer? It doesn't shoot back. Heck, if I shot a deer, it would have to be the dumbest animal on the planet with all of the extracurricular shooting I would do while I was waiting. And I sure don't want to go through the process of dragging its dead carcass out of the woods. Those animals look heavy and I'm not into that heavy lifting stuff, or any kind of lifting for that matter.
If by some miracle I did shoot a deer and find somebody dumb enough to drag it out of the woods for me, then what would I do with it? Strap it to the top of my Honda, because it sure isn't going inside. I have two rules when driving my Honda. No eating and no dead animals. That way I don't have the crumbs or the blood.
So with all this in mind, I found it strange that someone actually thought I would hunt. Maybe now I'll shave and give up the camouflage, but I'm keeping the orange hat, I like it.