The new Glassberg Conservation Area (see Oct. 31 entry) attracted quite a few hikers and explorers over the weekend, including me, every day; I even met an angler trying her luck, and got so jealous I went home and readied my own fishing rods for the next sunny day. But there's always the scofflaw city guy with his accursed two dogs running unleashed upsetting the wildlife, and although no hunting is allowed at Glassberg until spring, I saw a hunter in his green camo in the parking lot today, gearing up; no other vehicle was there. So I drove straight home where I had the number on the wall and phoned the Missouri "Report Poachers" hotline at 1-800-392-1111.
Starting on September 15 with the deer and turkey archery season, hunters are common in this area because there's so much conservation land, some of this adjacent to this property. "Conservation" doesn't mean "no hunting" -- deer hunting is an important part of conservation. Remember I got my hunter's certification back in March and although I don't hunt I learned how it's done right -- legal and humane -- and how it's done wrong. Either bow or firearm, it doesn't matter which when it's posted "no hunting." The main deer-firearms season is Nov. 10-20 (not a good time to hike, everybody! Boom, boom, dawn to dusk daily!); and hunters may use firearms in the woods until Dec. 30.
Showing posts with label poach. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poach. Show all posts
Monday, November 5, 2012
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Deer Season
The grimmest story ever told on this 100 acres:
One Christmas Day I decided to walk in the snowy oak-and-hickory woods for an hour and think good things. The silence was the big winter kind that felt like deafness. Animal tracks led me along a known game trail. Barely out of sight of the road, a dead deer lay split open, red exploded all over the white snow. Without looking too closely, I saw it was the young buck from the family I'd watched strolling down the road every dusk for more than a year.
Clearly the coyotes had got it. I was rattled enough that I didn't go walking anymore that day.
Next day the landlord's handyman, who was new then, came by to work on Shelley's house. Then he knocked on my door and said, "Need anything?" - which he never did unless I called him. He's a busy man.
I told him about the dead deer in the woods. He said he'd taken a walk, seen it, and got a good look, and its antlers had been roped to a tree. He figured a trespasser wounded and left it, maybe thinking to return and finish it off. But the hunter never came back and the coyotes got the deer. Alive.
"Oh, how horrible!" I said.
Deer firearms season had been closed for a month. He said, "That was poaching. Why didn't you report it?"
It came out that, for God's sake -- he suspected that maybe I'd done it!
No hunting is ever allowed on this acreage. Just to make sure everybody knows, a month before this deer firearms season opened (Nov. 15-25), I sprayed purple paint -- signifying "no hunting" -- on tree trunks all around the property's edge. When I see a deer I deliberately shoo it toward the center of the woods, where supposedly nobody can hunt. And if they do they'd better be humane enough to kill.
One Christmas Day I decided to walk in the snowy oak-and-hickory woods for an hour and think good things. The silence was the big winter kind that felt like deafness. Animal tracks led me along a known game trail. Barely out of sight of the road, a dead deer lay split open, red exploded all over the white snow. Without looking too closely, I saw it was the young buck from the family I'd watched strolling down the road every dusk for more than a year.
Clearly the coyotes had got it. I was rattled enough that I didn't go walking anymore that day.
Next day the landlord's handyman, who was new then, came by to work on Shelley's house. Then he knocked on my door and said, "Need anything?" - which he never did unless I called him. He's a busy man.
I told him about the dead deer in the woods. He said he'd taken a walk, seen it, and got a good look, and its antlers had been roped to a tree. He figured a trespasser wounded and left it, maybe thinking to return and finish it off. But the hunter never came back and the coyotes got the deer. Alive.
"Oh, how horrible!" I said.
Deer firearms season had been closed for a month. He said, "That was poaching. Why didn't you report it?"
It came out that, for God's sake -- he suspected that maybe I'd done it!
No hunting is ever allowed on this acreage. Just to make sure everybody knows, a month before this deer firearms season opened (Nov. 15-25), I sprayed purple paint -- signifying "no hunting" -- on tree trunks all around the property's edge. When I see a deer I deliberately shoo it toward the center of the woods, where supposedly nobody can hunt. And if they do they'd better be humane enough to kill.
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