A few weeks ago I had one of those uncharacteristic sleepless nights, where my mind was cluttered with all of the important things in life like deer, family, work, deer hunting, road construction, politics, deer, terrorism, economics and deer hunting. No matter how many deer I counted jumping that stupid white split rail fence, the art of sleep eluded me. So I carefully slipped out of bed, refraining to awake my sleeping wife, and crept down the hall to my office. I scoured over endless trail cam photos, caught up on the day’s news, and even visited my favorite hunting websites. Still, the thought of returning to bed where I would just toss and turn, was not a viable option. So, I sat there in the dark, with the glow of the computer screen illuminating my sleepless face, and stared.

Then all of a sudden, with Google’s home page staring back at me, I had a sinful urge. I tried desperately to push the desire of just taking a peek, out of my brain. I couldn’t imagine being a red blooded christian man who could fall under such temptation. How would I be able to face my wife after such a lack of judgment? How would I be able to sit in church the next morning, hearing the good word, feeling shameful of myself?

Yet, the pressure and curiosity was too much to handle. I walked over to the door peered down the hall to insure everyone was sleeping then closed the door tight behind me and locked it. I slid back into my seat and laid my fingers across the home row of the key board and typed a “P”. I sat there peering at that letter recognizing the spiritual warfare that was taking place in front of my eyes. The cursor blinked behind that P at the same rate my heart was beating. Placing my hands once again on the key board, I finished typing the 4 letter word of hunting that is the ultimate fall of man kind; PETA.

As the page loaded I felt a lump in my throat making it hard to swallow, and the palm of my hands began to sweat. Then there it was, PETA, home of the People for ethical treatment of animals. I began to scroll through the first few posts, which were nothing more than promoting adoption of orphaned kittens, and how they are fighting traveling circuses on the living confines of their animals. Both, even to a carnivore, are respectable stances. The next post was what they calculated as a win for their organization; a man who was convicted of animal abuse was banned from ever owning a pet again. Deserves him right.

Then, it appeared; 9 Things No One Told You About Hunting. Among some of the most ridiculous assumptions of hunting I had ever heard stood number 7; Hunters often hurt other animals then what they intend to kill, such as horses, cows, dogs, and cats. I couldn’t control my laughter. If I had a dime for every time an inadvertent arrow bounced off a limb and struck a stray cat or every time I mistaken a cow, that was wandering through the woods, for a whitetail deer, I would surly be broke.

The next article I stumbled across was Why Hunting is Cruel and Unnecessary. The article rambled on about canned hunts and poachers, both in which we all would probably agree is not the model of fair chase hunting that we practice. The writer then took a side ways turn from her original thesis and said this;
“Hunters, however, kill any animal they come across or any animal whose head they think would look good mounted above the fireplace- often large, healthy animals needed to keep the population strong.” She then continued saying, “Hunting creates the ideal conditions for overpopulation. After hunting season, the abrupt drop in population leads to less competition among survivors, resulting in a higher birth rate.”

So which way is it? Does the deer herd need the older mature deer in order to keep the population strong? Or by harvesting these animals, does it creates higher birth rates for the next generation?

The contradicting propaganda was too much, as I could feel the blood in my veins begin to actually boil over. I paced back and forth across the room, and eventually out the office door and into the kitchen. I opened the freezer and grabbed the first thing I seen, coincidentally back straps from last years harvest. I returned to the room holding the block of meat to the back of my neck in a feeble attempt to cool my anger, and slipped back into my chair.

I began reading about how conservation organizations are a fraud and how their alignments with hunting organizations is just a ploy to create more opportunities for hunting. They called out the National Wildlife Federation (NWF), by saying that they are affiliates of all state hunting organizations, and all of their efforts are influenced by this allegiance.

Its remarkable how they feel that working on the quality of habitat for monarch butterflies is imperative to hunting antelope, or how fighting for the clean water act is benefited only by those chasing trout for sport.
At that moment I heard a voice from the doorway, “What are you doing?”

I quickly slammed the screen to my laptop down, and turned to meet the disappointed expression on my wife’s face, as she leaned on the door way to my office.

“Nothing,” I stammered as I took a deep breathe. “Just getting some work done.”

“Yeah that didn’t look like work to me,” she said while brushing by me and opening the laptop. As the screen loaded, her face changed from disappointed to frustrated. “Again? I thought we talked about this.”

“I accidentally clicked on a pop up ad,” I lied.

“What if your son stumbles across you looking at this? Are you prepared to have that conversation?” The question hung in the air like dust in an abandoned house.

Her gaze changed from me to the screen, and within moments had slid me out of my chair and began murmuring at an article about why fishing is bad for children.

“It gives children a constant exposure to animal abuse?” Her frustrated mood instantly changed to irritated, as the back of her neck turned an instant red. “It desensitizes their feelings of kindness and psychologically damages their empathy toward others.”

She slammed the screen to the laptop down. “Enough of that crap, I am hungry.” She took the steaks from my hand that were still tightly pressed to my neck. “Since this is already thawed, how about some steak and eggs?”
Reaching the door, she stopped and turned back to face me. “Oh yeah, no more four letter words in this house.” Then disappeared into the kitchen.