Trying to reason with elk-hunting season
Because I’m a Sensitive New-Age Guy, I’m proud to sing out loud that I love animals.
Mostly I love them medium rare.
And that leads us to hunting season, which is going on even as we speak.
There are lots and lots of really good reasons to hunt ” food, sport, outdoor recreation, resource renewal, wildlife management and drinking beer around the campfire, which are all good. It also pumps about two hundred and forty zillion dollars into the Western Slope economy, which is even better.
It makes a man’s heart swell with pride to see his fellow American guys loaded into a gas-guzzling recreation vehicle, drive hundreds or thousands of miles to sit around the aforementioned campfire drinking the aforementioned beer and tell lies while they smoke cigars and play poker.
But because you cannot buy beer ” you can only rent it ” the guys eventually have to sit out a hand and wander into the woods to ponder that ancient, metaphysical question about what a bear actually does there.
While they’re in the woods, they come to realize the real reason for hunting season: It gives regular middle-aged guys the chance to take control of the forest for a few weekends, usurping the forest’s normal, granola-crunching inhabitants who squawk that multiple use of our public lands should consist of only hiking, snowshoeing and hugging Thumper Rabbit.
Hunters think Thumper Rabbit would make dandy mitten liners.
Then, in the midst of all that manly reverie, the hunter leans against a tree and responds to nature’s call standing up, just like God intended.
It’s enough to make a man answer the call of the wild, commune with nature and consume the charred flesh of deceased creatures ” at least until he needs to drive the recreation vehicle back to civilization to refill the propane tanks and restock the cooler with beer.
That’s why I and all other real American guys love hunting season.
And while hunters are aging and their numbers are dwindling, the good folks at the Colorado Division of Wildlife are having a great time introducing women and girls to the sportsman’s life.
For our female-type girl readers, let me explain the attraction this way: Hunting is like shopping with a lethal weapon, and you’ll get to buy some shoes.
Sure, it’s easier to go to the butcher shop and buy beef, but the butcher is usually holding knives and axes and gets really grouchy if you crank up a campfire in his store.
And even after you’ve paid for the damage your campfire caused, the beef you bought from the butcher is probably still less expensive than the money you sunk into your elk hunt.
And every time you walk into the butcher shop, whether you’re armed or not, you’re gonna walk out with some meat.
But in hunting there’s the danger, which is part of the attraction. It’s not a big deal if you stay with the regulations and include something in your ensemble that has no basis in the natural world, like Barry Bonds or blaze orange clothing. You’re actually pretty easy to see because you’re wearing a bunch of orange clothing the color of a nuclear physics experiment gone horribly wrong.
Besides, hardly anybody gets shot hunting anymore, mostly because elk and deer don’t have opposable thumbs and can’t hold a gun.
Randy Wyrick will be enjoying the hunting season with his daughter.
Her stated goal is to attend one of the military academies so she can blow stuff up and learn to fly things that go really fast. Tell Randy how proud he should be by e-mailing email@example.com or calling 748-2977.
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