FROM THE DEER STAND

NOVEMBER 2006

by BOB CRIKELAIR

When I was young, the gun hunt was the highlight of my year.  At the end of the day the standard greeting was "hey, did you get your deer?"

We'd gather together up in the barn where we hung each of our kills.  And, we'd swap our stories of the hunts and share each other's thrills.

Though we all admired the biggest one, the small ones didn't count less.  And, every successful hunter considered himself blessed.

To the older generation the horns didn't mean so much.  It was about getting some meat, and having some fun.  And, shooting straight and such.

Through the years the old guys left for that woods up in the sky.  But they took with them the essence of how we hunt, and why.

Something changed in deer camp.  It was sneaky as a thief.  'Till gradually it became about antlers and not about the meat.

We cut back sharing stories out of a stupid jealous fear.  That those who were listening might end up going out and killing OUR deer.

Our group was once friends and family, but when we figured it out.  The friends had to go 'cause they shot some big bucks.  It really was their fault.

My heart used to race when I'd see a deer, and I'd hope that it was a buck.  But, now I just study it to see if he's big enough.

More than once when showing my kill, my excitement would quickly dim.  When a brother or neighbor looked with disgust and said, "Yea, I passed on him!"

Letting them go makes for bigger deer, but I wonder if it's worth the cost.  I sit in my stand now and wonder, just what is it that we've lost?

And, I think to myself as I lower my gun, on another buck...to small!  We've gone from building friendships to hanging dead stuff on the wall.