Tis the Season

And I went up there, I said, "Shrink, I want to kill. I mean, I wanna, I wanna kill. Kill. I wanna, I wanna see, I wanna see blood and gore and guts and veins in my teeth. Eat dead burnt bodies. I mean kill, Kill, KILL, KILL." And I started jumpin up and down yelling, "KILL, KILL," and he started jumpin up and down with me and we was both jumping up and down yelling, "KILL, KILL." And the Sargent came over, pinned a medal on me, sent me down the hall, said, "You're our boy."

Alice's Restaurant (at the Induction Center)

Yes, indeed, the hunting season for white-tailed deer is underway in the northwestern counties of our fair state. Oh, I already knew it to be so since September 8 for the archers in our midst. Yet, as I drove down Waterfall Road yesterday, I sensed that something had changed. Parked in every turnout along the road was an ATV or a pickup truck or, yes, even a Plymouth Voyager minivan. A little further on I came upon an adult male homo sapien dressed as Big Bird in camouflage, carrying a blunderbuss a-shoulder and looking intently into the woods as I passed, his feathers of drab olive, brown and black flapping so with each step he took.

A visit to the NC Wildlife Resources Commission Web site soon revealed that we are, as of the very Saturday morning I ventured out, in the muzzleloading portion of the season for a term of one week and, thus, the dull thuds heard resounding throughout the woods. Come next Saturday morning, November 17, at dawn, the fast bullets begin their lawful flight from WoMD's and, continue so until December 15 at dusk.

I fear not so much for my life here in the woods as I do for that of Sam and especially Murphy who does so love to give chase to deer and, with the white underpinning of his tail, might appear at once to some cold and hungry trigger-happy hunter to be a small buck farting through the woods. (Note to CFO: Could you find blaze orange vests for Sam and Murphy that at least they might appear as small bucks wearing blaze orange hunting vests?)

What on earth, you might wonder, is required for one so inclined to go forth into the woods with intent to dispatch a Odocoileus virginianus by means of a WoMD? At a minimum: (1) Be 16 years of age (unless accompanied by another licensed hunter of at least 16 years of age, in which case there are no further requirements). (2) Sign the statement "I certify that I was a licensed hunter prior to July 1, 1991". (3) $25 (cash, check or credit card).

OK. So much for the privilege licensed by the state. (Hunting, you understand, like driving an automobile, is a privilege and not a right, because the state owns the wildlife as do they the public roads.)

What, you might further wonder, is required for one to obtain and own a WoMD suitable for dispatching an Odocoileus virginianus?

Well, legally in North Carolina, an agreed upon price between buyer and seller, provided (1) the seller is a private individual and (2) the WoMD is a long gun. Should you purchase from a dealer, a pistol permit issued by the sheriff's department of your county is also needed, this overcoming a technicality in the Brady Bill. Accordingly, those with a certain criminal background are limited to (a) theft or loan of weapon, (b) word-of-mouth, (c) the want ads or (d) eBay to obtain their WoMD of choice. And, of course, one might also come into an inheritance of such a fowling piece.

So it is that you can be a stark raving mad lunatic with an IQ of 25 and be a perfectly legal hunter of Odocoileus virginianus in the woodlands of North Carolina. A psychopathic moron, if you will.

"You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant!"

(Kinda gives the freedom to bear arms a warm, cuddly feeling, doesn't it?)

Now, in all fairness to hunter safety, I would be amiss were I not to relate to you the final score for the 2006-2007 deer season in North Carolina.

Hunters: 241,895 deer killed.

Deer: 6 hunters killed.

And to this score we should add, as an antidote, another 3000, or so, deer who died of suicidal attempts to bodily kill automobiles and their passengers.

Far better to be a hunter than a deer, I'd say!