Here Come the Rednecks

"There are two spiritual dangers in not owning a farm. One is the danger of supposing that breakfast comes from the grocery, and the other that heat comes from the furnace." - Aldo Leopold

This past weekend my brother, Travis, shot a nice sized buck, perhaps even big enough to warrant the $300 taxidermy bill to have it mounted. The buck, as it turned out, wasn't as eager to spend its afterlife standing guard over a living room. Travis thought his shot was well placed and that surely the buck would go down quickly, but apparently the shot wasn't as precise as he first thought. Though the blood trail was often thick, the buck remained at large as the night drew its dark curtain on the first day of deer season. The wounding of any animal is not one the ethical hunter takes lightly. There are no amusing anecdotes or whimsy, only the hope that the animal did not suffer long. Travis quickly retraced his steps the next morning, but the trail proved to be more elusive after an overnight rain washed away most of the blood trail. Soon, sometime in the early afternoon, a murder of crows began calling out from the same hill that the wounded buck had fled to. Crows are indeed macabre messengers. When their casual caws turn to violent shrieks you can bet every predator within earshot is going to take notice because 9 times out of 10 something has died or is in the process of doing so. Travis took notice and walked to the top of the hill where the commotion was coming from and, as sure as the mail, there was reason for clamor. Travis assumed he would see his buck laying on the wet, leaf-littered ground still majestic even in death with his proud rack of horns. Instead what awaited him was a fresh gut pile, complete with a set of gonads and penis! Someone had not only trespassed on our land that morning but had also took a deer that they did not shoot. Travis followed the overturned leaves and blood trail to the corner of our property where the deer was lifted over the woven wire fence and two strands of barbed wire and dragged a little further to the road.

This is why I rarely hunt during the bizarre phenomenon that is known as the firearms portion of the Missouri deer season. The tedious confrontations with trespassers has become all to commonplace these days. What's amazing is when you catch somebody they always swear up and down that they never crossed a fence... Indeed.

There is no room for elitism in deer hunting, but to ignore the obvious divisions of class when it comes to the character of hunters would be doing a disservice to those of us who conduct ourselves within the norms of lawfulness and respect. There is a small minority of deer hunters that must think that killing deer is the 'end-all' 'be-all' of human existence; why else would they throw caution to the wind and trespass on property and shoot deer from their vehicles with high-calibered rifles while traversing busy roads. This sect of bold hunters do not bother themselves with asking for permission, they just simply cross barbed wire fences with abandon as they blindly pursue whitetail deer.

These people have obviously never worked or lived on a farm. Fences are not easy to put up or repair. Fence distances are measured in miles, strands, and after their completion, the amount of blood it took to build the damn thing! (For those who don't know, building a barbed wire fence is like working with razor blades mounted on two stands of steel- yes, they're that sharp.) The fabric of fences have to be stretched to their limit in order to be effective in performing their most important task of turning cattle and/or other livestock. When weight of any kind is applied to the fence a finite amount of the integrity of the fence is lost. If this process is repeated enough or if a considerable instantaneous force is applied (especially a downward force) the fence tension will greatly weaken or even break in two. If you ever find yourself in a situation where you need to climb a farmer's fence please do the guy a favor and climb it at a corner post or better still, a brace post section. Now, I will also mention here that there are an even more diabolical trespassers; those who cut fences in order to get to a fallen deer or to "get even" with a landowner who took exception with the individual trespassers upon his land. Fence boundaries are in a constant state of flux as they are perpetually being tested by headstrong cattle, falling trees, and near-sighted deer; trespassers do not need to add to this already unwelcome list.

Another fact for the would-be trespasser: One of the few rewards for a farming family is the ability to hunt their land in relative safety and without having to worry about intruders. However, this rarely takes place in our neck of Missouri. Notwithstanding the priviledge of starting each day in the purified air of the country the farming life is one filled with little compensation, monetary or otherwise. Each penny is earned and with something always needing tending to the body & mind has little time to spare for rest. Wood needs to be cut, brush cleared, fences mended, cattle worked or fed, fertilizer needs to be spread, crops planted & harvested, hay to cut, and on and on. When deer season is over the slob hunter who trespasses will be back in his warm house watching football on a Sunday afternoon, while the farmer whose land he intruded upon is busting ice so his cattle can drink or chopping wood so his family can stay warm.

While it is a fact that 98% of Missouri is privately owned there is still a great deal of public hunting out there to be had. However, much of it is rugged and unmanicured unlike the majority of private land. Your standard trespasser is nothing if not lazy, it is easier for him to brush off an ass chewing after being caught by a landowner than it is to scout and walk public areas overrun with brush, brambles, and hills. If trespassers spent as much time asking permission from landowners as they do plotting out which farms they're least likely to get caught on they might just be surprised on the reception they receive.

Basically, there are two kinds of people in this world. There are those of us who try to treat each other with respect and attempt to get along, and then there are assholes. The assholes care only about themselves and they could care less how their actions for self gratification might affect you. I want to say that it is just the sign of the times, but you know what? There have been assholes since the beginning of time, heck, how else do explain the story of Cain? There were only 4 people on Earth and he couldn't get along with his only brother and finally killed him... Classy. Every generation believes that their current era has produced the most depraved and vile humans to date, but is that really the case? There have always been thieves, murderers, liars, and assholes and there is not one damn thing we can do about it.

All right I'm done ranting; it's just that people piss me off!