As it turns out, hunter education is hard.
In the online hunter ed program, I’m on unit 9. Out of 11.
I registered in April.
This is June.
I really don’t want to hunt.
For starters, a lot of hunting involves hiking through forested landscape in the dark.
That’s a hard no.
Between the likelihood of snakes dangling from trees in anticipation of my arrival and supernatural beings lurking in shadows in anticipation of my arrival, all using the cover of darkness, I’ll stay in bed. Thanks.
There are also many rules for hunting. Some are actual laws, enforced by the Pennsylvania Game Commission. Some are ethical – way more than listed in this link, let me tell you.
Here’s a sampling: No using your weapon if you don’t know what’s on the other side of your target. Don’t bait your quarry. Wear fluorescent orange – everywhere, always. Make sure no people are anywhere near you before firing. Don’t appear menacing when approached by a game warden.
I’m going to write down the rules. Keep that crib sheet handy while I hunt. My understanding is the noise I’ll make rustling through my notes is likely to scare away my quarry. I’ll fail before I even get started.
And consider the elements and fauna. Last month-ish, Don took our daughter spring turkey hunting. They were out at 4 A.M., hiking through the woods and waiting on the turkeys. Temperatures were in the twenties, Fahrenheit.
A few weeks ago, while out hiking, Don spotted a black mark on a tree, set way off the path. Curious, he hiked in closer for a look.
It was a snake.
While it’s safe to say I’d never be that curious, there’s no guarantee the snake won’t feel the same way about me.
And the hunting itself…I don’t have the courage to look my meal in the eye. I have people for that.
But to learn to butcher, I’ll need to hunt.
I persevere with hunter ed.
By the way, did you know butchering requires removal of the animal’s poop? That’s something you just don’t consider.
This isn’t to say hunter ed hasn’t been entertaining. There is, for example, a bird called a dickcissel.
Are you kidding me? That little guy is just begging to be mocked over his name.
Before you judge, my maiden name is Pope. Married name Rank. I’ve suffered plenty of ridicule right there. And Wendy’s “Where’s The Beef?” campaign? Let’s just say I hated that campaign. And that’s not how my name is spelled.
Also, think about the confluence of my first and middle names – Wendi Lynne. Even my mom – who named me – says that sounds like a porn name.
So I get to mock the little dickcissel.
Little dickcissel! Now that’s funny.
Double entendres pop up in hunter ed like Whack-A-Mole. Nipple wrench? Not what you think. Butt plate? COCK? I texted Don so many jokes about hunting double entendres he stopped replying.
The reality is I’ll be done soon. Committed to hunting to achieve my true goal – butchering. I’ll have to step off that ledge. Brave the cold and the snakes, the rules and the ethics. Leave my comfort zone, and the comfort of my sofa, Starbucks, and Netflix.
Well. At least it’s not a Wendy’s commercial.
Today, an article popped up in my newsfeed. The post, written by the MeatEater crew, discusses why hunters frequently have the misfortune of finding human remains. It’s fascinatingly macabre.
One police officer points out hunters are trained to be observant – in the woods. But that same hunter at home? Not so much on the good observations.
In my case it’s messes. Don spots a black mark on a tree far enough away he has to hike in to figure out what it’s a snake. But spill something in the kitchen, well, let’s just say there’s a lot left to clean up.
So let’s review what I have to do to avoid additional messes made with butchering. Spend two months taking the sexually provocative hunter ed course. Memorize and apply a Magna Carta’s worth of rules. Hike through the woods in the dark. Brave ghosts and reptiles. Remove poop. Be prepared to find dead bodies.
That seems fair.