By Jade Meinzer
Deer season is an unofficial holiday here in Nebraska. Opening day tends to sound like a warzone, the air smells like doe urine from all the different scent markers, every store that you go into will have someone wearing some kind of camouflage and it is not uncommon to see antlers peaking over the top of a tailgate as a pickup rolls down the highway. I myself enjoy hunting. My son thoroughly enjoys spending time with me waiting and watching deer, hoping for a chance to harvest the biggest buck. I do have to laugh at some of the hunters that I see coming through our little town though. Some of them look like they got hooked by the salesman at the big sporting goods store who is paid on commission.
Usually about two or three days before opening day, they descend upon our little town. Men in all shades of green camo hoping to bag the trophy deer that they have talked so much about all season long. They will buy out all the beer at the local liquor store, spend hours at the local café or bar telling stories about the monster buck they plan on bagging this year. They have all the latest gear, apps on their phone that tell them the best time to be sitting in which spot because apparently deer have access to technology. These guys look like Rambo, head to toe green with painted faces so the deer won’t see them, even though they ride around in oversized pickups with mufflers loud enough to wake the dead. Their cologne is a pungent odor of stale beer, deer attractant, body odor and exhaust fumes from riding around all day on their overpriced side by side or four-wheeler.
They can see deer from four states away with the optics that they carry. They have binoculars, a spotting scope, night vision googles, a scope on their rifle with a built-in range finder, something that tells them which direction the wind is blowing and a camera mounted on their head so that they can video their hunt for all of their buddies back in the suburbs. They drive all the backroads, stopping in the middle of the road so that they can glass the fawn on the faraway horizon. Gates apparently only open for these guys, they haven’t figured out that they close too.
Then comes opening day, the hungover green goblins pour into the wilderness before the sun comes up hoping to get their spot before anyone else. They get set up and wait for the sun to come up hoping that their prey didn’t hear them come in. Time and again they look at their phone and make sure that this is where the app says that they need to be. Just after sunup they get their chance, the biggest two-point buck they have ever seen walks into their view. With their fancy new elephant rifle, they take aim and the blast echoes across the countryside as their prize buck goes running away unharmed over the hill with his tail waving in the wind. They’ll go back to the city empty-handed and tell all their friends that they didn’t see anything.
On their way back to town, they’ll look on in wonder at the farmer who is dressed in coveralls cleaning a 12-point buck hanging from the loader tractor that he took with an open sight 30-30 that morning while he was out checking water for cows. I poke fun at my fellow sportsmen, but I appreciate their love for the outdoors. Enjoy hunting season this fall, remember to close the gate and always ask permission from landowners before hunting. That’s all for this time, keep tabs on your side of the barbed wire and God Bless!