Roping Deer

Recently I received a couple of fwd fwd emails which contained a cattle guy's account of his deer roping adventure. One thing is certain, the guy can spin a good yarn. If farming and ranching don't support him, he has a future as a writer, or maybe a stand up comic.

Apparently, since deer regularly helped themselves to the feed trough, the guy thought maybe he'd rope one of them, keep it around and fatten it up, then send it to its maker yielding him a good harvest of venison. He discovered that a deer may act dumb and docile but it is all a trick. Deer can be meaner than horses and cows. This rancher claims that pound for pound deer are stronger.

By the time his adventure ended, the tables had turned and all he wanted was to escape the deer. He never did get that venison, as he lost all desire for it after getting his butt kicked by the cute little creature..

What thought this generated concerns life, media and induced stress. The relative who sent it has done very well in his life; good grown children, comfortable financial status, continuing interests, great wife, and a collection of friends. It somewhat puzzled me that he is preoccupied with dinosaur bone activities in remote parts of the west, hunting and fishing, but little in the ream of things you see in the media, other than getting his news from Stephen Colbert and John Stewart.

The deer roping story sounded like something from his life these past few years. I realized that far from being totally oblivious to matters of civic concern, he has chosen to live life, enjoy what he can, the friends he likes, and let the rest go. It is his prescription for his own health, I suspect. It makes sense.

Possibly I am wrong, but I sense that the stories which are rich in basic humanity, the fun and unusual things people say and do, have become rarer than in times past. Such is the nature of collectivism. Somehow the warmth and humor of individuals just being themselves becomes overshadowed if not frowned upon. The deer roper would be seen by many as a big meany, uncaring when it comes to the possible environmental impact of his interactions with Bambi, and guilty of all kinds of sins.

I tend to see the guy as a hero. He reminded me of another era. It was the time when my great uncles ranched and told stories and trained great cow ponies, and generally minded their own business. I can't imagine them ever deciding that what car someone drove was somehow an affront to the earth and therefore their business. I have to think that they would have resisted arguments which encourage people to find excuses to be in the business of others that way.

Anyway, roping deer is about making the best of one's own world. Doing things just because it makes you feel alive; without concern for what various organizations or celebrities might say. Daring to be yourself. It's about freedom. Lucky people are those who are far enough away from the collective lunacy to engage in whatever folly they can dream up. Not hurting others, just living life, and finding excitement how they choose. It's an art that may be fading. Perhaps only I feel that my ability to live free without all the external filters has been retarded and the rest of the country is not in a similar condition. Actually, I don't believe that.

Maybe I'll give up paying attention to the neo-Bolsheviks for Lent. I certainly have the jump on not believing their theories or their ubiquitous public service ads.