My buddies are outside again, in their usual feeding spots out front. They've been coming in the early evenings every night since putting out corn for them the past month or so. I sit here looking out my window and think how beautiful they are, and the fawns they bring with them. I know what pests they can be to some, but so far we've not had a problem with them; I assume because we're surrounded by woods, and our winter temps, for the most part, are pretty mild and without snow coverage on vegetation for food.
I know some good ol' boys down here would offer to help us out with them if they're a problem, but if I wanted them killed, why would I feed them? I don't set out any food plots to lure them, only to take their life like hunters do, all in the name of that trophy buck head or antlers to hang on a wall or for the taste of venison. Not hardly. My two stepson's hunt, to my dismay, and not by anything Pete and I instilled in them by any means. They learned and did by hanging out with their friends who grew up in hunting families. It bothers me that they do, but they will do as they feel. I have a hard time believing in the mantra that killing them helps keep the herds in balance..whatever. I have an easier time believing God placed them on this earth for a purpose, not for our desire to find them fair game as an excuse to prove our prowess as hunters with an excuse to kill. I say, go back to your cave, man, and stay there!
No comments:
Post a Comment