And yes, I am a Bambi killer; I prefer Bambi harvester because my wife and I eat venison. My code of ethics dictates a humane kill with minimum suffering. With prices of everything being the way they are, venison, while already an attractive choice, becomes more and more sensible. My granddaughter is a vegan, so I appreciate all of you who make this conscious decision. As for me, I am an omnivore, and venison is about as good as you can get. Also, venison jerky is one of my main food groups. At any rate, this is for all of you hunters who have been in the deer woods. Whitetail Deer are the most sought after and challenging big game animals on the North American continent, as well they should be. If you get one, you deserve the harvest. You will know what I’m talking about, enjoy.

ODDS AND GODS

When a man goes deer hunting, he’s praying to the Gods,

Silent trees, squirrels laugh, woodsman plays against the odds.

One most elusive, quick eyes shames dogs’ vast sense of smell,

Noiseless shadow moving, ears are hearing all as well.

Will spirits of the forest hear, give infrequent nods?

Likelihood is small, chase futile, from stand, hunter plods.

Hours pile on time gone, success not measured by the clock,

Patience demands deities if larder you would stock.

Prospects dim as weekend sportsmen leave the wild in squads,

Silence! Celestials instruct, toes freeze, and movement prods.

Ageless beings dictate chance, to stalker they deem right,

Percentage improves extant; woodlore brings much to sight.

Omnipotence, watching, out here there is no façade,

Supernatural outlook gains, improved craft they laud.

Immortal implores expectation, listen to voice,

Pursuer becomes nature, hunting life, not just choice.

Divinities formed a seedpod, watered by the Gods,

Taught discipline through privation, fit to beat the odds.

Beings give chance, hunter good enough to take the best,

Whitetail master craftsman rose full measure to the test.