Deer Prudence
With the solstice upon us, so too comes that modern newspaper staple, the tale of hunters-donating-to-soup-kitchens:
As its name suggest, the Oxford-based charity [Hunt to Feed] donates venison to the hungry by way of the Connecticut Food Bank, according to its president, Joe Tucker, also of Oxford.
“Each deer produces 40 to 50 pounds of deer meat,” he said. The first year we donated 700 pounds of venison. Last year it was 1,250 pounds. And this year, we’re on track to go over a ton.”
While I have nothing but respect for someone who slays so that others may sup, these kinds of stories tend toward the formulaic, right down to the obligatory snarl from an anti-hunting spokesperson:
“I think that this gesture is meant to build the image of the weapons enthusiasts,” said Priscilla Feral, president of the Darien-based Friends of Animals. “I see it differently. They’re not hunting to feed families. They’re out for trophies. The problem of hungry people is solved with jobs, not deer flesh.”
It helps the joke if you understand that Oxford, HQ for the hunters’ group, is a middle-class town in CT’s blue-collar Naugatuck River Valley, while Ms. Feral’s Darien is the second richest town in America. Regardless, these antipodal sentiments bring to mind another story from Tuesday, in which we learn that wild boars have pierced Berlin’s borders more expertly than the Red Army:
The hairy beast was one of thousands of wild boars that have discovered the charms of urban living in Germany’s leafy capital city. When the creature trotted out of rush-hour traffic one morning last month to root around the flower store, Ms. Klose’s first thought was: “That is one ugly dog.”
After a second glance, Ms. Klose phoned the police for safety — and a local tabloid for publicity. The police called in Matthias Eggert, one of a crack band of hunters with license to kill hogs in urban areas. But Mr. Eggert’s plan to dispatch the boar appalled Ms. Klose. The hunter says the tabloid reporter brandished a camera and warned him he’d have the whole of Berlin on his case if he pulled the trigger. Mr. Eggert sensed a PR debacle, so he phoned around until he found an animal sanctuary 40 miles from Berlin that granted the boar asylum and named the swine “Amanda.”
The story goes on to illustrate the sympathy the donuts citizens feel for the boars, with Mr. Eggert alone expressing that Hunnish vigor we’ve come to know and love:
“We should just gather hunters at the these feeding sites, make the civilians stand aside, and feed the swine with lead.”
What’s interesting about this story is the complete absence of the obvious final solution for bacon on the hoof. Did the writer not think to ask about what was done with the dead boars? Are Berlin’s food kitchens well stocked without them or are there proscriptions against donating the meat? I would imagine the strongest case for boar butchery would be made by appealing to the need of Berlin’s less fortunate — but it’s never addressed.
Beatles’s “Dear Prudence” here. Siouxsie cover here.
