"Deer Santa, Please spare me from camping and hunting"

by Grace Alexander guest columnist

[Editor's note - Grace is a full-time freelance author and editor.
This is her fourth installment, and is exclusive to Just Camping Out]

Oh, Deer Me….

All together, friends. "I hate camping!" I can't hear you! "I HATE -" OK, OK - whatever, I can see the only person joining in is the old lady in the corner with the church dress. Hey, when I get done ranting do you want to split a cab back to civilization?

It's December here in Texas, and that means camping and deer hunting to my hubby. He can't understand my aversion. It's not like he's asking me to get out of the tent at dawn and climb up into a deer stand where my toes and fingers go numb and fall off and I have to pee into a beer bottle. His point of view: I get to stay in the nice cozy tent. He can't see what my problem is.

My problem is that once he is done tramping in and out of the tent ten times looking for stuff he left in the truck, the tent is no longer either nice or cozy. Mud is tracked all over, the cold is flowing in, and he is no longer in said tent to warm it up with his insanely high body temperature (the sole saving grace of camping, and still not as good as a nice hotel with bed sheets and CH/A). Puhleeeze.

Photo: three deer elude hunters and campers by hiding in Jim's backyard

Sigh. See, I hate hunting, too. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a 'you're killing Baaaaambi, waahhhhhh' advocate. I could care less, especially if you plan to eat it. Just spare me the draaaaaaama. The intrigue. The sneaking through the bushes, freezing if a twig snaps and doing that little thingy where you point two fingers at your eyes, then jerk a thumb at two o'clock, like you're deep in enemy territory. C'mon. It's not like the deer are planning a sinister counterattack.

The whole deal about covering yourself with doe pee, baiting a clearing with corn and waiting in the screened hideaway with a high-power rifle and a sniper quality scope just strikes me as a little lame. Seriously. When did they take the 'sporting' out of sport?

I used to know this old guy from Colorado. You know all Texans think they are the world's greatest hunters, macho redneck he-men, right? This little scrappy guy was laughing, and told me how they hunt deer in the Rockies.

"You ride a fast pony" he said, "and you use a heavy pistol. You HUNT them, you don't lure them in and pick them off! What the heck is wrong with you people?!"

I had to spirit him out of earshot before some good ole Texas boys took offense… but I thought he had a point. Shhh! Don't tell hubby!

Copyright 2008, all rights reserved - Grace Alexander for Just Camping Out

Read Grace's Profile on Helium.com
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Sorry, Grace, but I couldn't resist adding a shot of the deer that visited our backyard this past Thanksgiving. Seemed to fit your topic quite nicely. Here, hold my gun for a minute while I find the camera for another picture. -grin- ~Jim