11 thoughts on “Oh Deer…

  1. Mr. Dwyer ought to shoot as many deer as is humanly possible.

    You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes when you realise you’re about to die? It’s not true. I can tell you what you do see: a deer’s ass, coming through the windshield.Report

      1. Maybe they know you by now. Word’s got out–“watch that Dryer fellow, he says he’s offering you a piece of candy, then BLAM! That’s how my Aunt Jane–you know, my cousin Bambi’s mom–was taken out.”Report

          1. Tell me about it. There’s nothing worse than spending a boring morning in the deer stand and then almost hitting a deer with your truck as you pull into your neighborhood. That’s happened to me on multiple occasions.Report

            1. When I hear my colleagues who hunt talk about the lengths they go to stay stealth during a hunt… camouflage, deer urine, tree stands, remaining absolutely still and silent… it takes all my strength not to share that I could swing a baseball bat in my backyard and take out enough deer to fill my freezer for months.Report

    1. My Mother was an exterior decorator. Deer ~love~ many of the most beautiful landscaping plants and they’re swarming these years. Nothing but stumps and well gnawed trunks. I’ve never heard that saintly woman use language like that on any other subject.

      She picks all her apples and baits like four or five different spots up in the fields beyond my childhood home in late summer and autumn.Report

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