Backroads and Bobtails
Late-Season Deer Stand Reveries
by Bob Kornegay

(Author's note: I dedicate this column, with apologies, to my friend and noted sporting literature critic George Petrey, who informs me that I have spent entirely too much time lately writing about deer stands. Please bear with me once more, George. I shall soon return to those outdoor subjects to which you can best relate, such as how to hook, fight, and land a trophy sardine can on light tackle.)

Whenever I settle into a deer stand, I remind myself of a peregrine falcon or other such noble sharp-eyed bird of prey. With every sense finely honed, I watch and listen, never missing even the slightest quivering shadow or the quietest crackle of the tiniest twig.

For an hour, maybe. After that the fidgets set in. For an hour more, I squirm on my seat, missing as many deep- woods sights and sounds as I actually see and hear.

As the third hour begins, I officially become a deerstand philosopher, spending the remainder of my outing musing and thinking rather than hunting.

The last time this occurred was yesterday morning. The thoughts I came up with, despite the lateness of the season, are pretty deep. Wanna hear 'em?

(Rhetorical question, smart alecks. Save your breath.)

Thought #1 - Why do we call it a deer "stand" when deer "sit" would be more appropriate?

Thought #2 - Why don't male humans undergo a brief annual rutting period like male deer do? I mean, wouldn't life be a whole lot simpler? A couple months out of the year we could frenziedly chase around after "does," get it all out of our systems, and subsequently return to normal. Romance and carnal distractions would not enter our heads for another year, and we would be free to concentrate on really important stuff like fishing, hunting, professional wrestling, and NASCAR.

On the other hand, nature would dictate that we physically battle each other to prove ourselves worthy of mating and contributing to our herd's gene pool. Speaking personally, if I had to win a fight to win a mate, I'd wind up being the only celibate "buck" in the mix.

Thought #3 - How can a Labrador retriever retrieve a downed duck, dove, or pheasant if he hasn't trieved it first?

Thought #4 - Someone should conduct a scientific study to determine why bullets never fall from one's pocket until he's 40 feet up a pine tree.

Thought #5 - Wouldn't it be neat if good-old-boy anglers began referring to fishes by their scientific names? As in, "Hey, Bubba, you fishin' that Micropterus salmoides tournament next weekend?" or "Man, you shoulda been with us on the river last week. Me and ol' Leon caught us a finemess of Ictalurus punctatus. Naw, son, you can't get that in a public restroom."

Thought #6 - Do fishhave necks?

Thought #7 - Who first gave edible-sounding names to things like skunk "cabbage," cow "patties," and toe "jam?" Likewise, who was the first to eat an egg or an oyster?

Thought #8 - Why does a deer hunter never have to "go" until he's 40 feet up a pine tree? (I must remember to pick up my bullets when I reach the ground.)

Thought #9 - How is it that I always see a million deer when I'm squirrel hunting and a million bushytails while looking for deer? And does that squirrel dropping bark and twigs on my head really think I won't get mad enough to shoot him with this .30-06?

Thought #10 - How can that buck over there possibly enjoy eating those water oak acorns when they're so doggone bitter? Why, I'll bet he's eaten a hundred in the last five…..

Thought #11 - Buck?!!! Holy @#$%^&*!

Thought #12 - When I get home, should I just say I didn't see anything or that I passed him up because his rack was too small?

Thought #13 (How appropriate) - I wonder if old Socrates and some of those other great thinkers ever had days like this.