Jen Jeffrey
It is hunting season and on my Saturday hikes with the Greys I have heard hunters shooting in the distance as they go after squirrel and early goose. I was always fascinated with hunting ever since my niece Megan shot her first 12 pointer at age 14. I thought she had to be pretty tough to do that. I wrestled with the two natures inside of me about hunting.
Part of me loved the idea of the adventure while knowing that hunting is a good thing and not just a sport, but the animal lover in me just couldn’t see myself killing such a beautiful animal even if I respected the hunter who could.
The archery season for deer in Kentucky began Saturday.
Kentucky has the earliest opening dates for deer giving hunters a chance to harvest a buck “still in the velvet” according to Murray Ledger and Times outdoor columnist Kenny Darnell. He explains further stating that the velvety covering on a growing deer’s antlers is usually shed by deer season and it is quite a rare trophy.
The next season will be for early wood duck and teal so Kentucky deer hunters who use a muzzle will have to wait until mid-October.
After reading Kenny’s article, I was sure that during my Saturday morning hike my imagination would hear swooshing sounds of arrows zinging by while the Greys and I sought our adventure.
Waking up after a stormy night, I threw on Jason’s galoshes knowing it would be wet in the river bottoms where our farm is. Clomping around in his boots pretty much keeps me close to the farm and doesn’t make for great hiking. It looked like it may rain again and Sweetie doesn’t like the rain so we only walked by the corn fields this time.
As we walked under the sprinkles of the beginning rain, we heard a terrible squawking of black birds in the woods where the deer sleep. I am sure they were not asleep with that racket and I also had slept a little later than usual and it was nearing 7 o’clock already.
My canine pals didn’t seem too interested in heading towards the sound, but my curiosity was stronger than their resistance on the leash. As we came up to the bean field, I realized that four or more black birds were trying to overtake a nest of another bird. I couldn’t tell what bird it was, but she was screaming mayday calls as she circled over the tree where her nest was.
The bullying black birds were still busy squawking and my natural mothering instinct had kicked in full force. I did not think about the clunky boots I was wearing or the higher than normal snaky grass. Head strong, I traipsed through the tall grass to get closer to the trees and hoping to scare off the crazy black birds.
For some odd reason, I felt I could save the nest somehow if I could shoo the blackbirds. With my save-the-bird focus, the Greys knew not to ask questions and to just go along with me as we crossed over some fallen bamboo and over to the woods. I didn’t have time to think about snakes or what could be buried under the bamboo – I had to save some birds!
The mama bird was still crying out. I found a dried out corn cob under the bamboo where corn had been last year and I picked it up and threw it as far as I could toward the trees. I think my aim would have been pretty good if it wasn’t for scardy-cat Spec.
When he heard my arm slinging the corn cob, he jerked thinking I had seen something and he started to run away (from whatever he thought I saw) pulling me with the leash. Thankfully the black birds still flew off! Hurray! I saved the nest! I hoped I had saved the nest. No telling just what they were doing to it as they made all that noise.
Just as soon as I thought I was a hero, the bullies flew far to the other side of the bean field to the other woods and resounded more squawking and I heard another mama bird’s shrill scream. My heart sank. There is no saving nature. It’s just happens.
It made me think about my bucket list entry of one day going on a hunting trip… I am a woman who tries to save birds. I don’t kill spiders - instead I watch them with wonder and awe. When a grasshopper was caught on my moving Jeep a few weeks ago, I prayed for it to be able hang on until I reached home where it then was able to hop off and enjoy the lush green grass. I can’t kill a deer.
I have become neighbors with the deer. I am now the mommy of two greyhounds and two weird little cats. My nurturing nature overpowers my adventure nature at least in this respect. I will scratch off hunting from my bucket list and above that entry, I will mark “befriend the deer”. I am an animal-whisperer. I haven’t met an animal that doesn’t take to me.
It may take a few years, but as I hike the woods and fields and watch for the deer when they cross through the cornfields; I hope that they will learn I am a friend and not a foe. It would be so cool to gain their trust! I wonder if I could leave food out for them, but then …I am afraid it might attract something I don’t want to be friends with. I am not too fond of the idea of possum or coyote as friends.
I think with Mama’s kind heart I learned to be loving, nurturing and to care about others and, with Daddy’s practicality and matter-of-fact wisdom, I learned that I cannot be a baby about caring.
I will never forget when Daddy and I were heading to Bowling Green where he was to teach at the university that day and traveling at his usual top speed. Daddy was a stickler for making good time when he traveled.
After a rest stop and pulling back onto the interstate a bird flew across our path and I thought for sure Daddy was going to hit it. I was a teenager with a tender heart and I cried out, “Oh Daddy, don’t hit it!” Daddy slowed a little but not much because of the cars pulling on the ramp behind us. The little bird flew overhead and we did not hit it, but that was when Daddy taught me one of those important lessons of life I would carry with me.
He told me that for him to break for a bird suddenly could cost him his life, my life and the lives of people behind us. It was one of those moments as a teenager, where you realize there is more to think about in life than what is right in front of our face. I learned to respect animals and not to purposely hurt them, but also not to mourn the loss of an animal in situations beyond our control.
When Mama and I had to put her 14-year-old ailing Golden Molly down last year it was mercy, not murder. We did mourn for her, but we felt we did the right thing. People vary in their opinions of caring for animals, in hunting and in killing living things.
I have no problem killing a fly. To my knowledge the world has enough of them and won’t miss the few I kill to keep my house germ-free and maggot-free. I am not a fly-whisperer so I doubt I could make like ‘Miyagi’ and capture them or set them free yet I know that spiders kill harmful insects and I like to catch them on a magazine and release them outside.
I don’t have one general rule that I follow. My belief system is not something I can wrap neatly in a box. I don’t believe the world is black and white – it is colorful along with black, white and gray. There are many answers, many lessons learned, many mistakes and many joys and triumphs. I just enjoy life itself and with each path I take, I learn something new and I like learning.
As the drops of rain started pelting our faces, the Greys and I headed back to the house. Maybe we saved one bird’s nest while another was robbed. Maybe the bow-hunters will snag one of our deer today or maybe they will just go home with a great story. That is my passion. I always love a great story.
jen@jenjeffrey.com
For more stories by Jen, you can find her weekly column in the Happenings section.