Just parked the last of three killer posts in the queue. They’ll have wait a week for editing and tightening, as I have things to do. It’s Thanksgiving here in the good old USA, and time to lay the digital world aside to focus on family, friends and food — in that order.
It’s also deer season in the states where I hunt, which means its time to celebrate the bounty Mother Earth provides. It’s a time when I fill my freezer with all-natural, superbly organic meat — no hormones, no preservatives, and very little fat. Try to get that from some gnarly old Texas steer.
It may be hard for some readers to understand how this hardcore environmentalist can also be a gun-toting member of the deer-management posse. But it’s my tree-hugging genes that keep me headed back to the woods year after year.
Truth be known, I haven’t seriously “hunted” in years. I sit in a treestand and harvest from a deer population so abundant that wildlife managers in some states are hiring trained sharpshooters to cull the herd. Here’s one example.
I don’t view hunting as a blood sport. It’s a food sport, at least for me. We eat what we kill — every ounce of it. In the process we do our part to bring the ecosystem into balance. This isn’t popular with the PETA crowd, but PETA has never been much concerned with the balance of nature. PETA is about vegetarianism, something you’ll never consider once you’ve tried my venison chops. (I know that link is gonna be trouble, but what the heck.)
Say what you will, but I love God’s creatures — right next to the mashed potatoes. (Kudos to the Saskatoon restaurants for that wonderful line and to dullhunk for capturing this billboard and posting it to his Flickr page.)
I wrote about the PR problems associated with deer management way back in ’06. If it interests you, take a trip to the archives (here and here). Have a great holiday, and don’t hate me if your comments are delayed a bit. There is no wifi in my treestand.