Deer Season - Times They Are A Changing!

           Richter and I were chatting the other day on our drive back home from spending the day in town about how the internet has even affected the deer hunting season.  When the boys were little, the advent of deer season was a huge event.  In October, while the weather was still warm, Richter and our two boys would go to the local farm store or Walmart to pick up the salt licks to go put out on our neighbor’s farm.  That is when the anticipation would begin.  They would all go to the farm and place the salt licks in the designated areas and go check on them every couple of days to see if there was any activity.  By the second week or so, the weather was getting cooler and the days getting shorter and the anticipation getting higher.  Before the anticipation reached fevered pitch (as much as two little boys could stand it), it was time for the trip to the local “guns, ammo and liquor” store.  (This is where I as a mom had to step aside and let ALL of the guys do their thing).  Because it was now cold outside, Richter would bundle up both of the boys and the three of them would climb into the truck to go get the deer tags.  To this day they remember the excitement of that night.  The fun for the boys started once they got to the store.  There would be a store full of the regular local characters telling stories of deer hunts past and plans for the current season.  This was also just a time for everyone to catch up with neighbors they don’t normally run into because everyone is busy living their lives – going to work, taking care of their families, etc.  This trip to the store to get tags was special too because the boys were allowed to get a soda and some beef jerky out of the barrel. What a treat!  In an hour or so they would be home with stories of who all was at the store and what was new with the men in the area.  So at this point, the anticipation of deer season was full bore, just waiting, waiting, waiting. 

            Usually the night before opening day, everyone scrambled through the house looking for all of their gear – blaze vests, blaze hats, gloves, long johns, boots, the de-scenter spray, and of course their guns.  Before they went to bed, the boys usually had everything laid out in a row so it was ready in the morning.  The morning of opening day would finally get here and there would be the rush of trying to get everyone out of their bed and dressed and into the woods before daylight.  So most times, breakfast was usually forgotten.  They would all leave the house in anticipation of the hunt.  (I can almost imagine how the boys’ stomachs were nervously twitching with excitement.)  They were off to the farm, or wherever they had gotten permission to hunt.

            In Missouri during deer season the weather is usually a crap shoot.   We have been hunting in weather anywhere from 70 degrees to a foot of snow and colder than billy damn.  For the most part it is usually cold and wet.  This is where my job begins – I would get up with everyone else in the morning and as soon as they left the house, I would either start making a pot of soup, stew or chili because I knew that if they didn’t get a deer first thing, that by noon or so, all of the guys would be back at the house wet and cold and in need of something warm to restore their spirits.

            If they got a deer they would load it up into the truck and take it back to the same store to check it in.  That’s when they would run into all of the men that they met there just a few days before, where the trucks would be lined up with deer of various shapes and sizes sticking out the backs of the trucks. The boys would stand around listening in amazement to all of the stories of how these deer came to be laying in the backs of these trucks.  This is where they also met men of all sorts of character – but this was part of where they learned to be men.  This was an experience that no matter what – no one could take away the stories and the feeling of knowing that at that very moment you were a part of something special.  If time permitted, Richter and boys would drive around town to see who had a deer hanging in their tree, and if there was anyone around, they would get a new story of that particular hunt.

            After our deer was checked in and accounted for, it was brought home to hang in our beautiful oak tree to bleed out.  If the weather was cold enough, we could let it hang overnight; however, if it was one of those warm Novembers, Richter would hang it in the tree to skin it and then we would have to get busy butchering it. (That’s a whole other story).

            My point to all of this is that now the check in stations of yester year are far and few between.  Now you can get your deer tags and check your deer in on line -- all very impersonal and antiseptic.  There is no feeling of community, no hanging out with the men to hear their stories, no special treat of soda and jerky out of the barrel.  I feel sorry for the future generations of young men out there because if handled with all of the modern technology available to us, it is possible they will never experience the anticipation of the hunt and all that it brings with it.