Every November, I spend a lot of time with other guys dressed in wool and blaze orange. We spend hours talking about how well we know deer, their
feeding and breeding habits, and how they think.
I’d love to be a tick on a deer’s back and listen to a conversation between two bucks. Maybe it would go something like this:
“It feels like it could snow any day now. I love this time of year.”
“Yup, soon the yahoos will be out in the woods with us, again.”
“So Wilbur, I don’t get it. Every year, they plant those big, round, tasty, orange-colored things and we eat most of them. Then they carve faces into some of them and put them in front of the places where they bed down.”
“Yup Larry, that’s how I know it’s almost time. Soon they’ll dress up like those big, orange-colored, tasty things and come out to the woods.”
“Oh cool Wilbur, here comes one now. He’s walkin’ this way.”
“So why do they walk around on their hind legs?”
“I dunno Wilbur. No wonder they fall down a lot. And they wonder why they can’t keep up with us.”
“He’s getting’ close Larry. This’ll be fun. Wait for it. Wait for it. 60 yards . . . 50 yards . . . he stopped. He put that noisy stick over his shoulder. Okay, run!”
6o yards later . . .
“Okay. Stop Larry. Ha-Ha. Look at him. He’s hittin’ himself on the head.”
“Wilbur, he’s walkin’ this way. Should we run again?”
“Heck no! Let’s sneak around him so we can watch him. He’ll do somethin’ stupid again. I’m sure of it.”
“Here we go. He’s puttin’ that thing in his mouth and makin’ gruntin’ noises. What the hay?”
“Larry, I think he’s tryin’ to talk to us, but he doesn’t know our language.”
“What’s he sayin’, Wilbur?”
“Ha-Ha. I think he just sai
d, ‘I’m a smaller buck than you and I want you to make love to me’.”
“That’s kinda twisted.”
“Yeah Larry, they’re a weird breed.”
“Lordy Wilbur, did he just do what I think he did?”
“Yup. Oh god, I can’t stop laughin’. He just picked up some of your poop and sniffed it. This is too funny. By the way Larry, if you ever come across any of their droppin’s, don’t sniff. I don’t know what they eat, but it ain’t cedar or acorns, that’s for sure.”
One hour later.
“Geez Wilbur, we’ve been followin’ him for a while. What’s he doin’?”
“He’s hangin’ somethin’ from a tree. He’s takin’ somethin’ from his fur and squirtin’ it. Oh god Larry, hold your breath. Whoah!”
“Geez Wilbur, what’s that smell?”
“I’m not sure, but I think he’s tryin’ to smell like a hot doe.”
“A hot doe? It’d take a doe ten times the size of big Effie to smell like that. Heck, even Effie’s too fat for me, and you know I ain’t that fussy.”
“That’s for sure.”
“Wilbur, let’s get outta here.”
“Not yet, Larry. He’s climbin’ a tree now. Let’s wait. Wait for it. Okay, when he’s halfway up the tree, make that snortin’ noise and run right past him. His noisy stick is still on the ground. Oh, and Larry, make sure he sees those big bones stickin’ out of our heads. That really makes those yahoos do stupid stuff.