Monday, November 15, 2010

I Love You. No, I Hate You!

As a child, normal for me meant growing up with two deer heads mounted on the wall in the living room. If I sat in just the right spot on the couch, they would both stare blankly at me. Occasionally, I got in trouble for climbing on a chair and poking them in the eyes.

My mom never seemed to mind those two creepy deer heads occupying her living room. If she did mind, she did a pretty good job of keeping it to herself. She did, however, get her revenge on those two deer every Christmas by decorating them each with a big Christmas bow. There are several pictures of my brother and me throughout the years opening Christmas presents with the decked-out deer in the background, eerily watching the festivities.

Deer. They're everywhere (even in my living room). Everywhere I look, there they are. There was the time a deer hopped in front of our car, smashing into the radiator in a scene that could only be described out of a gruesome horror movie. Our car was totaled, the deer was totaled, but thankfully the humans, newborn baby included, were not injured.

There were many times growing up when my dad would spot a herd of deer on the side of the road, and we would pull over to watch in awe at the beautiful creatures. I was always mesmerized to catch a glimpse of them in nature. I was, after all, a child of the Bambi era. I never understood how my father, or anyone for that matter, would hurt a beautiful living thing. Of course, I had mixed feelings after taking a bite of a delicious burger, which I assumed was a regular burger, only to hear my dad asking me how my Bambi-burger was.

I suppose I've always had a bit of a love/hate relationship with deer. I loved seeing them in nature. I loved seeing the spotted baby deer playing with their mamas. I didn't, however, love dead deer mounted on the wall in my house. They are so beautiful (alive!), but on the other hand, they sure do taste good. Driving at dusk around here is like playing Russian Roulette. Everyone I know has either hit one (or more), or had some pretty close calls. And then, there's Lyme Disease. Right now, in my love/hate relationship with deer, I'm leaning much more toward the hate side. Why, here's a letter I wrote to a deer just today on Facebook:

Thank you for the Lyme Disease. Now I must eat you.


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