Off the Cuff
Something You Just Don’t Talk About
I'm not going lo hunt
anymore. Hunting season opens
tom morrow but I won't even
buy a deer tag.
I've only missed hunting
season one time since I was 12,
but I think I'll hang up the rifle
for good this time. There are
lots of reasons, I suppose.
We still have a freezer full of
deer meat my grandpa got last
season when he and I went
hunting in northern Oregon. I
saved a lot of money on food
last winter, but three months of
venison dinners nearly made
me ill. I don’t even want to
smell it anymore.
Grandpa doesn't cat much of
the venison either. He said the
steaks remind him of the deer's
sad little eyes staring at him
before he shot it. It really
wasn't a very big deer.
But the main reason I’m call
ing it quits is discrimination
The conservatives at the
Commentator cry about
discrimination because their op
ponents say they're not
politically correct. The Gay
and Lesbian Alliance members
fight discrimination because op
ponents say they're not sexual
ly correct.
Those prejudices pale next to
(he degradation facing hunters
who come out of the closet on
this campus It's recreational
correctness amok.
I seriously doubt hunters at
OSU ever had their heads
swayed by People for the
Ethical Treatment of Animals
Well, maybe they have, but I'll
bet they have some sort of
hunters support group that
meets on Wednesday nights so
they can tell each other that
bagging a prize buck is nothing
to be ashamed of.
For evidence of hunting's
sorry state on this campus you
only need to look at the cur
riculum offered in outdoor
recreation.
The wilderness survival,
backpacking and mountain
climbing classes could definite
ly prove useful to huntsmen.
But the ease of discrimination
is obvious when one notices an
entire course devoted
specifically to fly casting. Are
fishermen more deserving of
their own c.ass than huntsmen?
Shakespeare was a fisher
man Hemingway was, too,
and so the folks who schedule
classes seem convinced that
fishing is a more culturally
refined sport than hunting.
Well 1 like fishing too, but it
seems a shame the people on
this campus have forgotten
President Theodore Roosevelt's
favorite pastime. Why not have
a class in Big Game Stalking'
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or ‘Dressing the Kill’? But I
doubt that will ever happen I
think I'm just going to give up
I could try to form a hunter
support group on this campus,
but I don't think anyone would
come. It's not that I haven't
tried to find some huntsmen at
the University, but my efforts
have all led to ridicule and
ostracization.
I’ve even tried to convert
were the basic manly cham
pions of the male dominion.
They had never seemed like ci
ty boys, but they were always
well enlightened about the
modem do's and dont’s of
America's young adult sect.
My confidence that I wasn't
a redneck or a hick began to
waiver, but I had to stand up
for my beliefs.
“Well, S was sort of thinking
Where I come from, the middle of
September, beer, and guy talk always
leads to one topic — hunting season:
tracking deer, finding wild game and
killing it.
some companions to the hun
ting life.
The week before last I was
sitting in the pub talking to a
few friends We were all guys,
college students. The
conversation ran the garnet —
current events, beer, women,
football, music, cars — pretty
much what most college guys
spend their time talking about
Anyway, all of that good, old
fashioned guy talk must have
ovcrwelmcd me I sort of
forgot where I was and who I
was talking to.
-I should--have known better. -
Kit ffi?'tTOWewS w£re stacked
against me. I mean, here we
were, four guys drinking beer
and talking guy talk in the mid
dle of September
Where I come from, the mid
dle of September, beer, and
guy talk always leads to one
topic hunting season: big
bucks, tracking deer, finding
wild game, and killing it.
I guess it was that last part,
about killing. I should have
remembered first But I didn't.
Instead, as the conversation
seemed to dwindle. I decided
to spark it a little with the
natural topic.
"You gonna get your license
and bag a deer this year?" I
asked. As soon as the last word
was off my tongue, I realised
my mistake.
"Hunting,” gasped one of
my quickly sobering pals.
"Are you going to go
hunting?”
It didn't seem like such a bad
thing to me. And these were
not spineless intellectuals giv
ing me the evil eye. No, these
about going hunting around
here this year,” 1 said.
“Jesus, have you everkillcd
a deer before?" they asked.
“Yes," I answered in a
strikingly Ted Bundy-like (or is
it Mark Harmon) tone.
“What was the first thing
you ever killed?" they asked 1
began to believe they were
honestly interested, and the
conversion of their souls was
on my mind.
"I guess the first thing I ever
killed hunting was a squirrel."
I answered.
'" That*- under Simula hi e. the
squirrels are currently fh a state
of overpopulation,” said one of
my more reasonable pals
“Look at the campus, for ex
ample The squirrels are
already competing for the
limited food supply The new
dog control regulations and the
crackdown on transients have
eliminated most of the squir
rels' natural predators And the
construction on campus is fur
ther depleting their food
supply.
"These elements will even
tually lead to extinction of all
campus squirrels," he said.
“ The only solution is human
intervention. And the most effi
cient and sporting means of
population control is hunting of
course."
Holy smoke. I was suddenly
thinking how I’d never looked
at hunting in quite that way
before.
"So,” continued my con
verted friend, "we have to
convince the game commission
and Paul Olum that open
season on campus squirrels is
Spectrum
A publication of the Oregon Daily Emerald
Editor.Curtis Condon
Assistant Editor.Stephen Maher
Contributors: Ross Martin, Chris Norred, Alyson Simmons
Cover photo bv Ross Martin
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in everyone's best interest.
Then I'll have to borrow my
uncle's .357 magnum, and you
and me will have to go squirrel
hunting."
I thought he was right. I
started to smile. He started to
smile. Then he started to
laugh, and I realized he was
laughing at me.
I chuckled nervously and
bought the next two pitchers.
Silently I vowed to hang up my
gun, or at least to put it back in
the closet where it will have to
slay as long as I live here.
Campus squirrel hunting,
indeed.
- CHRIS NORRED
A letter from
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