Did I mention our friend, Bob, the hill-dweller, in West Virginia lives alone? Well, sort of alone. He has lots and lots of company in his house but not much conversation takes place.
Bob is an avid hunter and has traveled the world in search of game. Now, I’m generally not too bothered by hunters. It’s not like Bob doesn’t use what he kills — he brings home meat, he stuffs the body parts to hang as wall art, and he uses the skins as table coverings and some even function as bed covers. (Yes, there was an animal skin on my bed. Can I just say…ewwww??) So, he’s certainly not wasteful.
I’ve heard the hunter arguments and I know “they have to thin the herds.” I accept that. I’ve even been known to eat venison if it’s prepared correctly. Just don’t ask me to do the killing. I’m aware that if I were truly starving in the wilderness somewhere I would quickly beat the crap out of the first critter that got close enough to me so I could eat. I don’t dispute that. But I don’t consider hunting a very fair sport. A sport involves things like golf balls, or badminton rackets. A sport is something you participate in for fun. What is the fun in hunting? There shouldn’t be blood, gore, and death in a sport activity unless Bubba decides to smack you in the face with the bat. Those participating in the sport are usually equal in sporting equipment; all the players are suitably tricked out with the accoutrements of their sport. If one hunts for sport — to make this truly sporting, one should also arm the prey. In my humble opinion, hunting is nothing but the glorification of man’s ability to kill something. I can kill a spider but I wouldn’t mount it on my living room wall to show my hunting prowess.
Anyway, some of you know I’m not the world’s best sleeper. I tend to wake up and do something else for awhile until I’m sleepy once more. Now, when you are staying at someone else’s home, insomnia can present some problems. Sure enough, I woke up Saturday night and couldn’t fall back asleep. I tiptoed down the hallway to the basement stairs, down the stairs, flipped on the light, and prepared to watch a little tv. Everywhere I looked there was a deer looking back at me. I was outnumbered. I imagined them talking to each other and the difficulty in talking to your neighbor on the wall when you couldn’t exactly turn your head. I found I was having deep deer conversations and then I noticed their eyes seemed to follow me wherever I went in the room. It wasn’t long before I bade them goodnight and trucked back to the safety of my bed.
For Bob, animal pieces parts are appropriate home decor. For me, I’ll stick to framed landscapes for my walls and cotton tablecloths for my tables.