||| ORCASIONAL MUSINGS BY STEVE HENIGSON |||
When I was young, I would find work on an upstate dairy farm for the summer, just to get out of the city. Once, I had my arm deep inside a cow, helping it through a difficult birth, and then, a couple of weeks later, without a qualm, was helping to load her unnecessary bull calf into the knacker’s truck, to be turned into supermarket meat. I’ve hunted squirrels, which were delicious, and deer, which were even better, and then used the deerskin to make leather goods which I sold in my shop.
But nowadays my wife and I feed the local birds, including some hummers who winter over with us; and the squirrels, who know us well enough to let us get within a foot or two; and the raccoons, whose kits we tease with dangling cat toys, sharing mutual enjoyment; and, for the past two years and more, a beautiful, maturing, finally-four-point buck who was partial to dried corn.
Well, two weeks ago, a neighbor with property large enough on which to safely hunt, harvested that buck. We know because he told us that he was going to, and, in return, we told him that we felt entitled to some of that buck’s meat because of all of the corn we had fed him. Our neighbor wanted to tap into my leathersmithing experience, to find out how to Indian-tan the buck’s skin, so I’ve told him the little that I remember, and he has promised us some December venison sausage in return.
Deer hunting has always been an important source of meat for the Orcasian table. That’s why we have Doe Bay and Deer Harbor, the latter in particular having been the notable location of wholesale annual slaughter. In the early days, store-bought meat was an expensive luxury, but rifle cartridges were relatively cheap, especially if the rifle user was both experienced and careful. And properly prepared venison is both tender and delicious. But as Orcas caught up to the modern world, hunting was replaced by salaried labor, and the deer enjoyed a time of peace.
When we first became Orcasians, so many years ago, we were assailed by the moans of the pleasure gardeners who complained about the myriad deer who were constantly beheading their peonies.
“Piece of cake,” I told one of them, “I’ll just go home and get my rifle…”
“No! No! No!” came the reply, “I can’t let you kill Bambi!”
And then the beheaded-flower wailing began once more.
Now time’s wheel has turned full circle, the deer have had many years to multiply unchecked, and, quickly, before all of the peonies are gone, we Orcasians have got to thin the herd. “Our” plump, young, corn-fed buck was a prime candidate for thinning, so thinned he was.
He’ll be put to good use. His meat, including our winter sausage, will be consumed with great pleasure, his skin will make perhaps a vest and a pair of gloves for our neighbor, his antlers will become tool handles, and, very likely, his bones will be ground up for fertilizer. And the peonies in our neighborhood will grow up tall, and strong, and beautiful.
My wife and I will continue to feed and associate with the local birds, squirrels, and raccoons, and we will watch with pleasure the maturation of the next generation of deer, one of whom is already munching on our dried corn.
You’ve done it again Steve…spun a great tale to elicit many emotions in the reader….especially this one. And you’ve done it without showing your own bias; leave it up to the reader to react, knowing that there will be those for and against whatever they feel like picking from your tale. We’d love to hear those comments.
My short time on Orcas in the 60’s was as you said…deer season was the time to fill your locker with meat. And we did, but only once or twice. You could load your deer into your pick-up and take it own to the Landing to have it butchered in the back room of the store. Ask me sometime about my hunting trip into the woods with my husband.
I guess if you call us predators, which even then there were few of on Orcas, we were helping keep the deer from the dangers of overpopulation.
I’m just finishing a book by Elizabeth Marshall Thomas: “The Hidden Life of Deer; lessons fro the natural world”, where she recounts her keen observations of the deer that come into her New Hampshire yard to feed on the corn she provides. Contrary to you, Steve, she anthropomorphizes a lot of the deers’ behavior. A good read, however.
Chemical sterilization for a few cents is available.
No assassinations or stray projectiles, plenty of springtime Bambi’s, plenty of photogenic rascals eating your peonies, no reduction in cervidian quality of life [or safe sex PSAs], just a decade-long taper in population. This is a well tested wildlife management practice.
ONE downside: pragmatic- would have to find another issue that pits Peony-lovers against Bambi-lovers, a rare, local, aerobic sport. ..
You wax romantically poetic, Steve.
My question is: why the 4-point buck? why do these guys always have to kill the ones with the “biggest rack?” is it some kind of pee-pee envy competition thing that makes hunters feel more manly – will the head be stuffed and put over the mantel in the den?
Why not any other buck? Why always the best one – which weakens the herd and engenders more disease? Shouldn’t the strongest and best survive to keep the others healthy? Not knowing how to “manage” a herd, I ask these questions with genuine curiosity.
No offense meant, Steve, but this story just makes me sad. I’m glad at least that the hunter is showing a little interest tanning the hide – what a waste not to. Uou may surmise that he will (perhaps) use all the parts but in reality, who will do all those things that you listed – grind the bones, cut the horn, tan the hide, etc?
Well, Sadie, I don’t think that the “problem” is penis envy, because a four-point buck is nothing special, in terms of antler spread.
The number of antler points is merely an expression of health, nutrition, and, to some extent, longevity. It bespeaks of the possibility of good meat.
Hunting season would normally coincide with the rut, in such a way that breeding would most probably have already taken place before the hunting begins.
But in the Orcasian case, we are plagued with deer, and we are the only predators, so the season may have been set to occur before breeding.
The hunter in this case is not the sort of person who would have a four-point head mounted on a plaque, and he is the sort of person who will use the entire animal. Take my word for it.