November 15: Holy Day, Dead Bambis, Not Done

Today is one of the holiest days of the year in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  On this morning, men put on their sacred garments, get in their cars/trucks, and drive to the woods.  They trek into the darkness, to places where they meditate until the rise of the sun.  Then, they load their rifles and wait to blast the hell out of a whitetail deer.

Yes, it is the opening day of rifle deer season.  For the next 15 days, nothing with antlers is going to be safe in the Big North Woods.  I, personally, have never gone deer hunting.  Don't like being cold.  Don't like shooting guns.  Don't like killing things.  Don't like the taste of venison.  That's a lot of "don'ts" against me joining the excitement of deer season.  Please understand, though.  I'm not against hunting or hunters.  It's simply not something that lights a fire in my furnace.  I'd rather go to work, and that's saying a lot.

Needless to say, I will be seeing many dead Bambis in the next couple of weeks.  It's always a pleasant walking out of a grocery store and seeing a gutted carcass on top of a car.  Nothing says Season's Greeting more.

I am not done with my Christmas essay yet, but I will be later this morning.  I can almost envision the ending of the piece now, which is good.  I just have to sit down and write the damn thing.  I'm trying not to be cranky or impatient this morning.  Not sure if I'm going to be successful.  Maybe I should just avoid human interaction until it's complete.

Saint Marty needs a vacation, but not in the woods with a rifle in his hands.

My view while I'm driving for the next 15 days