Self-esteem among prey animals is a delicate thing. And, I’m concerned about the messages we’re sending with the names we give to corn and other attractants. What deer wants to be called Swamp Donkey or Dirtbag? What deer wants to be associated with the Buck Bomb Cornholder Screw-Style Deer Attractant? Which you can actually buy in pink (sugar beet flavor).
Demeaning names aren’t even the worst of it. We’re now pushing drugs on young, impressionable deer. What kind of country allows any hunter — regardless of age and without a doctor’s prescription — to legally buy unlimited amounts of Deer Cane in block, liquid, and now powder form? You can buy it, throw it in the back of a truck, and not even have to hide the label from the cops. Same with a 2-kilo bag of Deer Crack.
Is this who we want to be? Recently, while hunting in Arkansas, I realized we’d crossed the line when I ventured into a little country store for a chicken-fried sausage-egg-and-cheese biscuit and found myself staring at a pallet of Deer Meth. The stuff “Compares to Deer Cocaine, Only Better!” And if you want to make it — or anything else for that matter — even more deadly, you pour peanut oil on it. Because peanut oil sort of turbo-charges anything it touches.
Sometimes I grow weary of being a voice in the wilderness as I wage this lonely crusade against a culture that has come loose from its moorings. I may just give it up and join in. I believe I will. Just as soon as I can find some Deer OxyContin. Heck, they’d be tapping on your windows with their hooves to get some of that.