1097


alongside traffic
a deer limps
against the lights

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4 thoughts on “1097

  1. It seems a shame to have to “like” this, Bruce. The image you painted pains. The “no hunt” crowd around here – and elsewhere – is getting similar images all the time of Bambi and brother braving modernity as populations soar. What happens with our local Black Bear populations – and Seminole County as well as Sanford Surrounds is loaded with them – is a horrorshow whose “final solutions” may be even more pain. We allow homes built hard by habitat along rivers and swamps and then let homeowners demand taxpayer-funded suppression and support services, just like in earlier decades we allowed new developments in 100- and theoretical 500-year floodplains (500 is th eory because we have but near 300 years of annecdotal weather records and still under 100 years of statewide scientific reporting) and then bow to privilege as the new homeowners demand state funds to restore flooded property…and what happens along the Least Coast seaboard – despite repeated promises to quit granting rebuild and even new-build permits for littoral and other critical areas is amazing. The efforts to try – and try is the best word – to preserve and protect the seashore nesting (birds) and spawning and raising grounds (fish) is incredible. We p;rohibit fishing offshore for provable mass quantities of sport/game fish – many of which are tasty too for private anglers – yet we bulldoze their all-important nursery areas…sorry, buddy: I’ll clime down off the lectern now. Thus endeth the sermon: there will be no collection. We need to figure a way to mount a .50 cal on each deer’s outboard shoulder with a go-pro activator trigger and a backup for the dear deer to take a shot as well. There’s a SF tale somewhere in there…deer and SkyNet join up to tell Arnold his services no \longer needed.

  2. Hunters should be limited to granite spears they themselves chiseled out. Your sermons are always welcome, tho sometimes I feel like an ant in the flood.

  3. I’ll stick with my arm-the-deer-too approach, though I do like the stone-tipped spear appeal. But that – while salubrious for the would-be gatherer of venison more to engage fully the process, it I fear will allay the greater problem of overpopulation since we have yet to allow into our homes and hearths the notion of wolves and large cats upon which the ruminants to feast. Failing that, we must assume the burden of butcher before-the-fact. In many Western states Car-Kill deer are gleaned by the highway patrol and if practical cleaned and if available donated to good causes. We had a photographer at the Sanford Herald – his pioneer-era father also was a photographer and this guy who taught me how to shoot sports photos with a twin-lens reflex camera – who also cooked breakfast at the then Sanford-based County Jail. He swapped out beef for his personally poached venison and you shudda seen all the lawyers and judges lined up to eat his deer with hoppin’ john and swamp cabbage (chainsawed – illegally – Sabal Palm state tree – cooked in grease with onions and such and then boiled to softness: big bucks at Norman’s in Liquordale or Miambi Bitches and near tastless as a Brazilian substitute real tall palm heart canned: the flavor of aluminum is mighty fine!) all the fixin’s. Couldn’t have been illegal what with them judges and lawer-critters gullet-filling themselfs on vittles right outta the swamps, no? Read as a teen a nighthunter fashioning a fire-tempered pointed-stick weapon dropping out of a tree to harvest a deer…the big buck’s antlers almost got him – though would have been fair!) and more recently but less recent a Louis L’Amore tale of a full-blood Amerindian Air Force experimental plane pilot kidnapped in the cold war by the Russkies who escapes from his personal Gulag and treks the way from The Urals throough Lake Bikal(sp?) to the Bering before getting a cousin to give him a sea-going kayak. When he gets back to U.S. he sends his captor a scalp – of the Soviet native tracker sent to get him back and the words in blood on a bark page: In times past my people used to do this. This is my first. There will be one more. Chilling. He, too, harvested his life-sustaining deer from a tree, but used a gift knife to accomplish his kill during his multi-year passage back to freedom. As to sanctity: when my youngest niece was bothering her parents – of which I heartily approved – about eating some forms of formerly animated protein (chicken, fish, etc.) I looked at her across the table and said: “Emmie. Did you know carrots scream when they are pulled from the ground, and radishes cry?” But, then, I am three cruel, no?

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