My husband is an avid hunter. He loves to go hunting in all kinds of weather. He sits in a blind in the wee hours of morning, freezing and waiting. He waits until the last day to get himself that perfect buck he’s been watching all season. If he were to take him on Opening Day, he wouldn’t have anything to do until January. Duck hunting is another story. Ah, the season that keeps on giving. Mike makes sure that he takes his share, often limiting out in a day. Have I mentioned that duck is dark meat? Dry, dark meat. I’ll just put it this way: someone in our house wasn’t the least bit disappointed that we lost everything in the freezers after Hurricane Ike.
Recently, we have a new game sport that opened in Grimes County, Texas: alligator hunting. Seriously. And I happen to know where you might find one or two. Oh, take the limit. Please. Our place in the country has recently been overtaken by the reptilian monsters. I hear they eat dogs for breakfast. So, if anybody is interested in an alligator hunt, I’ll cook you dinner. I guess it shows my torn state on the subject of hunting. Deer – huh? Ducks – yuck. Alligators – where’s the Terminator when you need him?
But deer? I get all the practical talk about “thinning the herd” so they don’t all go hungry in the winter, or something like that. I even understand the adrenaline that comes right when you see that 14 pointer come into range–well not really, but I’ve heard about it–a lot. I realize that it is a sport that most Texas men consider sacred. I guess I don’t object to hunting philosophically, but I do think they could adjust a few of the fine points to make it more fair. Most sports equip both teams. If it were a real sport, they’d give the deer a gun.