Oh deer

I just completed my corporate new employee training, and I spent the last week of it in the company of men who wear hard hats and work outside and spit on the ground a lot. That last thing is discouraged in the office building where I normally work.

After a week of this, I will never complain about my job again. When I got back to the office, I felt like George Bailey when he realizes he has his life back. Hello, you wonderful old coffee machine!

I respect the work these guys do and I did my best to fit in, but I was sorely out of place with most of them. Part of the problem is I didn’t get to do any actual work, I just stood there and watched, and asked an occasional question so I would appear interested. It’s not that different from some days in the office, except I didn’t get to sit down as much.

I would have fit in more and been more accepted had I been a hunter. Pretty much every non-work-related conversation revolved around hunting. Apparently, it’s currently hunting season, so they had a lot to talk about.

I don’t have anything against hunting, and I don’t oppose it on moral grounds. I oppose it on comfort grounds. I went once and I had to get up very early, it was freezing cold, and I sat on a piece of wood in a tree for about three hours, waiting for some unlucky deer to walk by so I could shoot him, or her. This was no way to spend a Saturday.

I’m not even sure why they call it “hunting.” The deer hunters aren’t really hunting, they’re just lurking. They’re hiding up in a tree, planning their sneak attack on Bambi. It doesn’t seem sporting. Maybe if they had to chase the deer down and kill them with a hammer, or if the deer were given guns to shoot back, it would be more interesting.

And I have to tell you, deer aren’t that hard to find. I see them all the time. And they’re not hard to kill. My mother once killed two in the same week using nothing more than a Plymouth Valiant. I think hunters should instead hunt something that’s really rare, like an honest politician, or a reasonable woman.

One of the guys on the crew I was hanging around with last week said that he liked killing young deer, because they have the best meat. I gathered this was illegal, but the old boy didn’t care. He said “I’ll shoot one while it’s still suckling on its mama.” Well, ok, I guess that’s one way to get some tasty meat. I’d prefer to just go to Wendy’s. It’s easier on my conscience.

The problem with shooting an animal is, then what? I guess you have to take a knife and skin it and pull its guts out and cut it up. How is this fun? I didn’t even like dissecting frogs in biology class in high school.

When I was living in Milledgeville, Ga., I was in a convenience store one day, and there was a redneck girl and her redneck mama working behind the counter. This young couple came in, dressed in camouflage, and they were very excited. She had gone hunting with him, and he had killed a deer, and she was so proud. She even took the knife and helped him dress the carcass, which made him proud of her.

They were grinning from ear to ear, covered in deer blood, and buying some beer to go home and celebrate. When they left, redneck girl turned to redneck mama, heaved a deep sigh and said, “That was so sweet. I wish I could find me a man like that, mama.” Mama assured her that, someday, she will.

I don’t know if she ever found true love, but if not, I know some guys I can introduce her to. They might even let her cut out the deer’s liver, if they’re the romantic types.