My husband is deer hunting this weekend with my dad.*
Rob got a deer, which was able to walk for quite a while after getting hit, so it and its two friends walked around for a little bit and happened to walk very near to my dad, who had not yet gotten his deer.
Suddenly the biggest one of the three crumpled to the ground.
And my dad had a clear shot at 2 deer, about 15 feet from where he was.
So what did he do? Did he carefully squeeze the trigger and bring one down? In a word, no.
He decided he didn't really want a deer after all. Maybe he decided he didn't want to kill it, maybe he felt sorry for the poor deer that would be left. Maybe he just didn't want to field dress 2 deer 15 minutes before dark and do all the remaining butchering the next day. Maybe he didn't want to eat venison for a year.
So instead of shooting, he shooed them away. He walked toward them making noises and trying to get them to go away.
Man, I wish I had been there. The Great White Hunter putting down his rifle and shooing deer instead of shooTing them. LOL Maybe I'll get him a camera for his birthday. That is my kind of shooting.
*My dad is tough. He is a lifetime NRA member, he rides a Harley, he (in the words of a friend of mine from high school) eats nails for breakfast. He has hunted upland game and deer for many years. (This is why I refuse to eat any wild game.) Until his beard went white he looked like Yosemite Sam. I kid you not. His beard was that red. He's a Vietnam vet, was a reserve police officer, taught Hunter Safety for years ... in short, he is not the type to sit back and watch while the deer tiptoe through the tulips. Seriously.
Mom, wife, daughter, sister, friend. Scrapbooker, family historian, reader, cook, photographer. Volunteer. Political junkie. Springsteen fan. Loves deeply, strives daily to be a cheerful, kind and generous person. Fails regularly. Snarky, judgy and more than a little blunt. Some people don't appreciate my style. If you're one of them, that's ok. Get your own blog.
I am cracking up at your dad. He saved Bambi!!
ReplyDeleteThis is incredibly cute (that's probably not a word to associate with a hunter). Will he go hunting again so he can shoo away his prey?
ReplyDeleteWell, with age comes some wisdom, I guess. First of all, you know that I hate wild game also and after many years of attempting to cook it and eat it, I said "NO MORE! YOU WANT IT, YOU COOK IT AND YOU EAT IT! TASTES AND SMELLS SOOOO BAD, I'M TOTALLY DONE!" Because your Dad doesn't cook, and his pet phrase is "Never piss off the cook", he doesn't cook it or eat it so guess he's decided not to shoot it either which suits me just fine. I, too, wish I'd been there - the Great White Hunter, who used to not sleep the night before the "hunt" because he was so excited, trying to get the deer to run from him instead of toward him - your father will never cease to amaze me! Love, Mom
ReplyDelete