Oh, DEER!

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!