Wabbit season! Duck season! Wabbit season! Duck season! Wabbit season, “shoot him now!” I always adored Looney Tunes and felt a real kinship with both the name Looney and Daffy. (okay guys, you can stop nodding your heads in the affirmative anytime) I inherited my love of cartoons from my dad and I adored that a man who could speak three languages, play the violin and compose classical music could also belly laugh at Elmer Fudd, Bugs Bunny, The Road Runner, and Daffy Duck. From what I understand it is take your rifle out, scope set, locked and loaded, coffee hot and Bambi look out, deer season. I have never eaten rabbit, my mom cooked a duck once and all I can say is she should have left it at the store and let someone else buy it. I have had deer twice and both times I was too young to know my multiplication tables. The first time I ate it I thought it tasted like something someone found on the road, scraped the hair off, threw on the pit and decided to call dinner. The second time it was offered me, I tried to say I didn’t want any but when you’re a kid and at someone else’s house, good manners kick in and you eat stuff that makes you cry so you do not appear to be rude but that time it tasted more like barbeque and less like road kill. My parents never owned a gun, oh wait, my mom had one, a glue gun. She often threatened me with it and said if I said another word she would glue my lips shut. However, we didn’t have the kind that took bullets and as far as hunting, the thought of my daddy in a deer blind in the woods is stuff for a stand up comic. I don’t think my dad’s bare feet ever touched the ground and even at home he might have worn his flip flops to shower. He was a Captain in the Merchant Marines and aboard ship they always wore shower shoes and who knows, it may have carried over to his home habits. Anyway, to say he wasn’t the outdoor type is a lot like saying our dachshund, Patches doesn’t like being left alone. My mom did tell us stories of growing up in England and wringing the necks of chickens but she graduated to just making food taste like chicken feathers when she moved to America. I adored her but she could make Chinese water torture seem like a better choice than eating her version of the all American comfort food, macaroni and cheese. I used to sit and stare at my plate of food as a child and wonder how someone who could speak five languages, have a vocabulary of six dictionaries, and was more intelligent than anyone I knew make a can of soup taste like ditch water, tuna casserole resemble and mimic slime covered fish bait and meat loaf make a person’s taste buds pack suit cases and run to the back of the throat demanding sanctuary! One thing about hunting season is it sure makes for a lot of traffic in town. I think I saw one of my taste buds hitching a ride on the bumper of one of the cars the other day. Do you suppose that is why I became a vegetarian? We all know how popular it is to blame everything on our moms so why not go with that right? I was concerned about the Welcome Hunters sign in the parking lot of Super S as I saw deer stands and deer corn at the ready and thought maybe they had offered a bounty for the first hunter who could bring down a goofball red haired columnist but was relieved to see price tags on the merchandise. I also saw deer meeting in the parking lot late at night and the next day found a flyer stuck under my windshield. It read:Please save the deer population of San Saba! We hear you are vegetarian and make great fudge. Please make tons of fudge and leave it in all deer blinds you come across so that hunters will be so hyped up on sugar their trigger fingers will be too shaky to work! Thank you Dear. The Deer! Even if I think the only way a deer should taste is with its tongue, I love that people flock to our town to enjoy the things they love doing. I, as always, am a live and let live person, even when that means live and let die. Hey, I just made a movie reference and I do believe it was a James Bond movie. I wish all of you a successful hunting season and that means for all things in life for which you hunt. Love you all with all my heart.Wabbit season! Duck season! Wabbit season! Duck season! Wabbit season, “shoot him now!” I always adored Looney Tunes and felt a real kinship with both the name Looney and Daffy. (okay guys, you can stop nodding your heads in the affirmative anytime) I inherited my love of cartoons from my dad and I adored that a man who could speak three languages, play the violin and compose classical music could also belly laugh at Elmer Fudd, Bugs Bunny, The Road Runner, and Daffy Duck. From what I understand it is take your rifle out, scope set, locked and loaded, coffee hot and Bambi look out, deer season. I have never eaten rabbit, my mom cooked a duck once and all I can say is she should have left it at the store and let someone else buy it. I have had deer twice and both times I was too young to know my multiplication tables. The first time I ate it I thought it tasted like something someone found on the road, scraped the hair off, threw on the pit and decided to call dinner. The second time it was offered me, I tried to say I didn’t want any but when you’re a kid and at someone else’s house, good manners kick in and you eat stuff that makes you cry so you do not appear to be rude but that time it tasted more like barbeque and less like road kill. My parents never owned a gun, oh wait, my mom had one, a glue gun. She often threatened me with it and said if I said another word she would glue my lips shut. However, we didn’t have the kind that took bullets and as far as hunting, the thought of my daddy in a deer blind in the woods is stuff for a stand up comic. I don’t think my dad’s bare feet ever touched the ground and even at home he might have worn his flip flops to shower. He was a Captain in the Merchant Marines and aboard ship they always wore shower shoes and who knows, it may have carried over to his home habits. Anyway, to say he wasn’t the outdoor type is a lot like saying our dachshund, Patches doesn’t like being left alone. My mom did tell us stories of growing up in England and wringing the necks of chickens but she graduated to just making food taste like chicken feathers when she moved to America. I adored her but she could make Chinese water torture seem like a better choice than eating her version of the all American comfort food, macaroni and cheese. I used to sit and stare at my plate of food as a child and wonder how someone who could speak five languages, have a vocabulary of six dictionaries, and was more intelligent than anyone I knew make a can of soup taste like ditch water, tuna casserole resemble and mimic slime covered fish bait and meat loaf make a person’s taste buds pack suit cases and run to the back of the throat demanding sanctuary! One thing about hunting season is it sure makes for a lot of traffic in town. I think I saw one of my taste buds hitching a ride on the bumper of one of the cars the other day. Do you suppose that is why I became a vegetarian? We all know how popular it is to blame everything on our moms so why not go with that right? I was concerned about the Welcome Hunters sign in the parking lot of Super S as I saw deer stands and deer corn at the ready and thought maybe they had offered a bounty for the first hunter who could bring down a goofball red haired columnist but was relieved to see price tags on the merchandise. I also saw deer meeting in the parking lot late at night and the next day found a flyer stuck under my windshield. It read:Please save the deer population of San Saba! We hear you are vegetarian and make great fudge. Please make tons of fudge and leave it in all deer blinds you come across so that hunters will be so hyped up on sugar their trigger fingers will be too shaky to work! Thank you Dear. The Deer! Even if I think the only way a deer should taste is with its tongue, I love that people flock to our town to enjoy the things they love doing. I, as always, am a live and let live person, even when that means live and let die. Hey, I just made a movie reference and I do believe it was a James Bond movie. I wish all of you a successful hunting season and that means for all things in life for which you hunt. Love you all with all my heart.