In my neck of the world, it’s huntin’ season.  I traveled 100 miles south today and saw herds of deer and antelope just a playing in the autumn sunlight.  Actually, I saw more herds today than I have ever seen.  Along the road, trucks were parked with the hunters scoping out areas.  And my favorite, a white Blazer crammed with four big guys dressed in bright orange.  They were going slow and had their guns at the ready.  If that doesn’t sound comforting, it wasn’t.  Let me stress the point, that vehicle was in Utah – not Wyoming.

I have a confession to make.  Despite being born in Wyoming and spending most of my life here, I’ve never gone hunting.  Not once.  I do eat meat.  I just prefer somebody else to do the killing.  And definitely the cleaning (insert gagging noise here).  One summer, I helped my brother clean Albertsons including the meat department.  It took a while before I could even look at meat again.  And the smell of raw meat still sends a warning to my stomach to be on alert.  So, no I’m not a hunter.

The other night I was at a rest stop resting.  It was a dark, cold night that made my teeth chatter.  So, I stayed in the warm car while I waited.  A car came down the access road and out the gate.  As soon as it left the rest stop, a herd of deer came around the corner in the opposite direction.  They headed for the gate and slinked in.  They seemed to be communicating with each other.  This is what I imagined they were saying.  You know, in deer language.

“Hey, Joe,” said one from the group.  “They gone?”

“Yeah,” said the small deer sneaking slowly a few feet in front of the group.  “Looks like the coast is clear.  I mean there’s a girl in the car there watching us, but she’s harmless.  She couldn’t even tolerate the cold and got back in the car.  Plus, she’s not wearing orange.  She’s no hunter.  Let’s go home.” 

The rest of the group caught up with him while laughing.  “I can’t believe how long those hunters were out there waiting for us,” said one.

“Yeah, we sure showed them,” another answered.

“Momma, I’m tired,” one of the fawns mumbled and yawned.

“Let’s go home, dear deer.”  And the whole herd slipped past the gate and disappeared into the dark.  Safe for the night.

I’m no deer linguistic expert, but I think I read the situation pretty accurately.

So, good luck all you hunters.  I hope you get your meat for the season.  Just don’t shoot anything on two legs.