I’m thinking of hiring myself out as a one-hunter deer population control center. Every time I show up to hunt, deer vanish into the next solar system.
Too many deer on your place? I’m your man, but not because I’ll transplant many white-tails from your land to my freezer.
Do deer think your flowers and shrubs are a vegetarian food bar? Give me a call. When I show up to hunt, it’s like a magic trick, and deer do a vanishing act, at least where you live.
Wildlife experts tell us we have too many deer in a lot of places. I’m happy to right that situation whenever I climb into a tree stand. I sit for hours with the trusty bow and arrow in hand, waiting for deer to show up.
Word of my deer-clearing powers has spread to the point that I don’t ask people to hunt on their place. They ask me.
Several seasons ago, a couple invited me to archery hunt on their property “to thin out some deer,” they said. I’m always happy to help out the neighbors.
The day I showed up to scout around, I practically needed a cow catcher on the front of my truck there were so many deer. Deer were everywhere, standing, lounging on the ground, playing cards. As the sun rose on opening morning, the only deer around were the concrete variety out by my neighbors’ driveway. They were smart to phone me for some reliable deer population control.
We’ve enjoyed years of great hunting at Camp See No Deer, the little wood lot where a few of us lads have permission to bowhunt. Things get pretty exciting during the season as Camp See No Deer lives up to its name.
There was the evening that a thicket behind my tree stand shook like it would rattle the Richter scale. It had to be a 10-point buck headed my way. As my knees shook, an armadillo came waddling out of the brushy tangle.
During another sunset hunt, three baby raccoon emerged, sleepy-like, from the crown of a hollow tree. They stood ready for their nightly rounds with mom.
That’s half the fun for us at Camp See No Deer, sitting quietly in the woods watching wildlife when the wildlife thinks no one is watching. Birds land close enough to touch. Squirrels bark on branches just above our heads.
If we don’t see deer, sometimes they see us. One morning I climbed down from my tree stand only to hear a deer snort behind me. I whirled around to see three does running for their little deer lives. Their white rumps would be the last I’d see of those does all season, more proof of my deer eradication talents.
The other lads do pretty well with their hunting. That is, as long as I’m sitting by the fire at home and not in a tree stand at Camp See No Deer.
Flip Putthoff can be reached at email@example.com