Hunting Season Again

I know it's hunting season because bottles of wine are starting to arrive at our front door. That, and I have to go walking with a fluorescent orange jacket, so that the hunters have to aim to hit me.

I'm not a hunter; neither is the Farmer. However, we have several hundred acres of woods giving lots of hiding space to crop-eating deer. There are no natural predators. The deer eat a LOT of corn.

Coming from the city, I was in the "Don't Shoot Bambi" camp. Barbaric, old-fashioned... whatever. I just saw a facebook post in response to a hunter who enjoys it. "Barbaric" was the response. I wondered, almost publicly, if she eats meat. And how she gets it. Wrapped in plastic on a styrofoam plate?

Moving to the Gravel Road, I've had to think about hunting, if for no other reason than it's a common practice and hunters ask permission to hunt on our land. We say yes. Here's why. For the Record.

1. The hunters ask permission.
2. They say thank you afterwards. They truly appreciate the privilege. They used to offer us some of the meat, but I'm vegetarian and The Farmer doesn't like venison. They bring wine now, instead!
3. They take out what they take in and look out for the property.
4. They follow the rules: wear orange, get the tags, share the space.
5. The equipment is not hi-tech. Let me rephrase. They don't use high-power rifles. They use bows and black powder guns. These pieces ARE high tech, but they can't simply aim and fire. And that's intentional. Hunters do have to work for their prey.
6. They use all of the animal.
7. Unlike meat eaters in the city, who buy meat that someone else has killed, butchered and packaged, the hunters have caught their own meat. It's free range, organic and, frankly, natural.
8. The hunters help keep the deer population in check.

I'm still not a fan of hunting and will never hunt unless I have to in order to eat; however, the hunters are welcome here.

A New Take on Hunting Bambi

I'm not a hunter. I'm 97.386% vegetarian. I don't think I knew any hunters before I moved to the Gravel Road from the city and I'm one of those who think that animals, with the exception of possums, are cute. There are currently 6 cats calling our place home, and one is currently sleeping on my lap, but that's another story. 
In short, I was not a big fan of the concept of hunting and I subscribed to the liberal, 'humane' view that hunting is yucky. And hunters are mean people who kill Bambi.
However....
Hunting is part of the fabric of life on the Gravel Road. November and December may mean Christmas and concerts and shopping to people in the city. But out here...people hunt. And go to concerts and parties and shop!
I've had to come to terms with it. I've thought about it a lot over the years, because it's right at my front door. Literally. Hunters come to ask permission to hunt on our farms. We give it. It took some time, but I have come to the point where I (nearly) celebrate it. In spite of my prejudices.
Here's why:

"Thanks" from the hunters. 

• the hunters ask permission
• they follow the rules- wearing orange, hunting where we tell them (away from houses and me walking), have their licenses and tags, etc.
• they truly appreciate the opportunity- if it weren't for the farmers, they wouldn't be able to hunt (ie, there's no 'free, open, unowned land' around)
• they keep an eye on our woods and will let us know if there's anything amiss
• they don't leave a trace- they take out what they take in
• they say thank you (for us... wine, chocolate, and all the ketchup or canned beans you can throw a stick at)
• they use the entire animal
• the hunt helps keep the deer population in check, since there are no longer any other natural predators in the area. We're happy to give some of our harvest to Bambi (and Rocky the Raccoon and Sammi the Squirrel) to live on, but they do a lot of damage, so some kind of balance is needed.

Plus...
The guys (and it's all men who hunt here, though there are women and there has been one girl hunting with her dad) have the meat butchered and put it in their freezers.They eat what they kill.
It's organic, local, heritage, hormone and antibiotic-free, non-GMO. There's a direct connection between the food and the consumer. There's little energy used in transport (usually 2-4 guys in the truck, and they carry it home) and within the proverbial 100-miles.
I'd say, in fact, that it makes a more authentic, local  meal than going to the grocery store. 
This week, it's black powder. The guns look like automatic rifles, but they have to re-load after every shot. It's not easy. When it's not black powder, it's cross-bow. It's not like being at a shooting gallery. These guys have to work at it.

Let the hunt begin. Let my wine cellar grow! There will be chocolate for dessert.