Some Thoughts On...

Shooting a Deer

Having lived in New Paltz for five years of my life, quite a few times did I find myself enjoying a leisurely drive through the mountainous outskirts, peacefully careening around the tree-lined bends, and happily enjoying the picturesque scenery that surrounded me, only to be thrust into temporary panic mode upon being forced to recklessly swerve my car directly off the road in an effort to avoid hitting a usually large, adorable, and presumably retarded deer.

Behind their huge, solid color, cartoonishly handsome eyeballs is a brain that prevents this unfortunate mammal from understanding the potential consequences of being struck by a speeding vehicle. It's almost as if they are daring you to hit them. But when it comes down to it, nobody wants to deal with the reality of crashing into a deer. I've been fortunate enough to avoid such a fate thus far, but that is not to say I haven't seen many a destroyed front bumper from a highway run-in with these wobbly-legged creatures.

I'll come right out and say it. I like the look of an animal's head hanging on a wall. No decorative sconce or tastefully framed landscape painting can fill a room with the rustic esteem imparted by the suspended head of a decapitated bear, or the majestic protuberance of a smiling moose face. These are one of a kind accouterments for your wall that are quite simply in a league of their own. Now at this point you may be saying to yourself, "Eric, you piece of shit. I thought you were an animal lover." And you are right, because yes I am. But as I have little to no control over the untimely demise of these unfortunate, sometimes endangered creatures, I have no choice but to bypass the grieving stage and embrace what remains of them as unique decorations for the home.

Now when it comes to deer, there's no denying (even for the most utterly devoted of conservationists) that this particular animal is vastly overpopulated. Strolling about wherever they like, eating my friend Marc's bushes in his backyard, deer appear to have no respect for anyone. And while nobody is particularly interested in hitting a deer with their car, there are an inordinate amount of people attracted to the idea of shooting one with a gun. Many would not think twice about settling the crosshair of a high caliber rifle directly over Bambi's heart and sending a streamlined chunk of metal speeding into their internal organs. I can't say that if given the chance I'd pass up on this interesting opportunity either. I'd like to think though, that I'd be somewhat selective about the deer that I killed. Preferably it would be one that is not very well liked in the deer community. Boring, inconsiderate, perhaps counterproductive to general deer well-being. This is the one I would take down. And I would hang his head over my couch, where he could finally be of some use to someone.