Oh, deer! It's almost that season again.

Archery hunting season for deer opens Saturday. We've seen fewer non-local vehicles than in years past cruising the roads doing preseason scouting and checking out parking areas etc. Yesterday we did notice a Minnesota Department of Natural Resources (MNDNR) pickup cruising the area, presumably in anticipation of Saturday's opener. Minnesota's Chronic Wasting Disease [CWD] surveillance areas are well North and South of our location, so it's not clear if CWD concerns are affecting hunter numbers or if, come Saturday, the usual numbers or archers will be sitting in trees. The MNDNR "has imposed [changes that] include measures designed to mitigate the spread of Chronic Wasting Disease, which poses a major risk to deer health in parts of the state." The Center for Disease Control, on the other hand, notes this caution: "Hunters should avoid eating meat from deer and elk that look sick or test positive for CWD. They should wear gloves when field-dressing carcasses, bone-out the meat from the animal, and minimize handling of brain and spinal cord tissues. As a precaution, hunters should avoid eating deer and elk tissues known to harbor the CWD agent (e.g., brain, spinal cord, eyes, spleen, tonsils, lymph nodes) from areas where CWD has been identified."

five of Minnesota's herd of 1,000,000 deer

Photo by J. Harrington

In years past, we've hunted deer from time to time but our preference was for hunting ruffed grouse or waterfowl. Contemplating the low level risk of disease transmission to humans, compounded by the additional efforts required to comply with testing requirements in areas known to harbor CWD, we'd forego the deer hunting "recreational opportunity" without a second thought. But we've also been friends and acquainted with several hard core deer hunters who lived and breathed for deer season. Folks like that will probably just take the extra precautions and compliance requirements in stride and keep on going. As the Star-Tribune mentioned a couple of years ago:

At risk is the state’s 1-million-animal deer herd, more than $500 million annually in economic activity tied to deer hunting and the state’s legacy of family and friends bonding over whitetails in the fall.

The relationship between Minnesota's deer farms and the state agencies responsible for regulating them is, in our opinion, distressingly comparable to that between state regulatory agencies and the mining sector. Unfortunately, too often the Minnesota Legislature plays an equally helpful role in managing CWD and the pollution associated with mining. We probably need better quality voters to get better quality politicians and bureaucrats. We're open to suggestions about how we can manage that.

The Knife Wearer

By Lois Red Elk

This morning we found ourselves skinning a deer,

cutting meat, hanging some to dry and packaging

some for the freezer. It was the dogs late last night

that set off a howling, the unexpected smell of fresh

blood floating down the block, then a familiar car

horn honking in the driveway. My nephew and his

friends were hunting and brought us a deer. Mother

always said, “Cut up the meat right away, don’t let

it sit.” I look at a front quarter, a hole filled with

coagulated blood. Grandma says not to eat the part

next to the wound, “Cut it out; offer it to the earth for

healing, a sacrifice to remember the hungering spirits.”

Auntie says to save the muscle along the back strap,

“It makes good thread.” I carefully learned the exact

place to cut the joints so the bones separate easily.

Mother said that is important—“It means you are a

thoughtful person.” Auntie is at the door waiting for

a roast. “An elder takes the first piece,” she reminded.

Mom tells me to save the hooves for her. She wants

to make a bone game for the new grandchild, wants

him to be patient and skillful. I boil the hoofs with

sage, find the little toe-bones for her. My hands begin

to ache from the work, I soak them in warm water

and start again. I admire the placement of tendons

on the deer shoulders, no joints, just the crisscrossing

of muscle. Grandma says, “That’s why your dad called

them jumpers, they bounce off the strength of their

flexing muscles.” Late at night Mom helps me stake

out the hide. My back hurts; my feet feel like I’ve

been walking on rocks all day. I want to complain,

but Mom catches the look in my eyes. She says to me,

“When you get dressed for the dance this weekend,

you will proudly wear your beautiful beaded dress,

your beaded leggings and moccasins, and last, but not

least, you will put on your beaded belt, and attached

you will wear your sharp knife and quilled knife sheath

because of what you have done this day.”

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