Friday, January 23, 2009


I didn't mean for my next post to be a rant, seeing how I've had several of those lately. (Not just on blogger, but at home, too. I'm hormonal, leave me alone. Unless you have chocolate...then, just approach carefully.)

As I was driving to pick up my daughter from school yesterday (just the daughter, son has been home sick 2 days this week), I noticed a large, dead deer on the side of the road. To save myself the prerequisite "ewwwws!" and gagging, I didn't mention it to the kids. This morning as I drove back home from dropping them BOTH off at school (PRAISE GOD FOR A QUIET HOUSE!), I accidentally looked over at it again. Not only was it still there, but it had been decapitated.

(No worries. There will be no pictures to illustrate what I saw. It is forever etched in my memory. That is more than enough.)

I don't like--but I understand--hunting and the mounting of deer heads as trophies. Heck, if I got up really early and braved the mind-and body-numbing cold of an Alabama Winter morning, I would want something to show for it, too. Like the Friday after Thanksgiving when I go stand in line to go to Wal-Mart at 4:45 a.m., I get to bring home my trophies in a shopping bag. Exactly the same, really.

What I don't get is the concept of getting a deer head mounted if you (a) Hit it with your truck, or (b) You just happened upon it and you weren't even the one who killed it. I can see maybe having a personal vendetta against poor Bambi if he damaged your car massive truck (This is Alabama), but I don't see what good his head does you. He was no John the Baptist. And if scenario (b) happens, well, that's just dumb. There was no skill involved. You didn't aim your truck at the deer and skillfully manage to kill it (although in scenario (a), it is somewhat plausible it could happen. Again, this is Alabama I am talking about.)

I will leave you with a much happier image and thought from my backyard last summer.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

4 delightful comments:

Armchair Housewife said...

Well, sad to say, I have known some died-in-the-stonewashed-denim rednecks that DID aim with their trucks. I had a boyfriend in college who had a good buddy from highschool named Chuck (of course). Chuck and his buddies used to get drunk (no joke), get in their F350s, and drive down town line road (very rural and very straight) with their lights off, hoping to hit a deer.

And they did so more than once, if memory serves correctly.

They were also known for their tire-burning parties and their home-grown demolition derby out back on their property. Also cats... lots of cats.

And just in case anyone reading this gets some regional prejudice going, these boys were from upstate New York. You can find a Redneck anywhwere you go...

Temple said...

Well, you are in Walker County...heh heh heh

Lianne said...

A.H.--Ahhh, so "Chuck" is what they call "Bubba" in upstate New York. :)

Temple--Actually, I'm not in Walker Co. We live in Marion Co., which is waaaay closer to Mississippi, which may explain a lot!

Ticia said...

I'm sorry but in a very sick way this is so so so funny!
Being from Washington state I see a lot of deer road kill along the I-5 freeway, but I have never seen one that some one came along at took its head! I recently moved smack dab in the middle of redneck a utopia.
I like them myself -they might do some pretty bonehead stuff but they are nice people (Unlike that big jerk from wife swap).