The “Dyramid,” a Mike Calway-Fagen piece at the Franconia Sculpture Garden. (PHOTO: imagenusphoto, Flickr CC)
The firearms deer hunting season in Minnesota opens Saturday morning, kicking off a venerated November tradition in Northern Minnesota. This year’s season runs Nov. 5-20.
How firmly entrenched is Minnesota’s deer hunting tradition? Behold this e-mail sent out to parents in my son’s 6th Grade class this morning:
Attention Deer Hunters!
If you are so fortunate to bag a deer this hunting season, please save the heart.
I am hoping to use them during science class in February. Please freeze the heart before bringing it to me.
To be clear, this is a 100 percent socially acceptable teacher e-mail. Subject: “Bring me the heart of a freshly killed animal.”
Now, this tradition doesn’t always translate well to non-hunters. For many of them, these words conjure up the sacrifice scene in “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.”
Kali Maa! Kali Maa!
Of course, we in Northern Minnesota know that setting a heart on fire with dark magic wastes a very delicious part of the deer. Or, as we discussed earlier, deprives children of learning opportunities.
It’s not just the lack of squeamishness that defines Northern Minnesota deer hunting culture, it’s the casual acceptance of extremely hilarious or disturbing things as a matter of routine.
For instance, deer urine.
For most people, deer urine is best left either inside a deer or on the ground, quietly seeping into our rural aquifers. But for deer hunters, “estrus” — urine from a fertile doe — is a valuable tool in attracting the big bucks whose racks they covet.
Some of the most avid hunters have to be reminded that putting estrus scent on *your clothing* is not a good idea. There’s a whole cottage industry of pee runners passing “the good stuff” along an informal network of estrus buyers, like old timey bootlegging.
How do they get the ovulating lady deer to pee in bottles? The less we know, the better.
Speaking of randy does, behold this deer decoy from the Gander Mountain sporting goods store in Hermantown:
“The BABE will convince every buck she is ready for action.” (PHOTO: Aaron J. Brown)
I took this last summer. If you can’t read the writing on the box, it says: “The BABE will convince every buck she is ready for action.”
What the picture doesn’t do justice is the, shall we say, “come hither” pose of this plastic doe. If deer had Tinder, most bucks would swipe … is it left? Right? What’s the good one? Ah, who cares. Deer can’t swipe.
For many rural Minnesota townships, the opening weekend of deer hunting brings major community events. In my home precinct of Balsam Township, and in neighboring Wabana Township, locals gather for “hunters suppers” on Saturday night. There, plastic glove-wearing matrons serve roast beef and mashed potato dinners to raise funds for local causes. This literally funds the volunteer fire department that protects my home.
The orange army of hunters will wake Saturday morning to one of Northern Minnesota’s most unique traditions: Probably not shooting a deer. Or maybe they will.
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