Caregivers of the Dead

     A short while ago, I responded (with my FD crew) to one of the more gruesome motor vehicle fatalities I’ve seen so far in my time as a fire department chaplain. Sure I’ve seen dead bodies before, but not so many that I’ve “gotten used to it.” This one stuck with me for several reasons, mostly due to the time it took to free the victim from the vehicle. Three hours is a long time to stand around in the Florida heat while a deceased human is slowly extricated from an overturned van.    

     Such times can test your internal constitution, and reveal your capacity to stay focused on the job you need to perform. For me as a chaplain, my job has many layers, most of which are intangible. There can be specific functions to the role, but most often my job is to be randomly encouraging with reassuring smiles, human contact, and what is called “the ministry of presence.” So being “present” for my Seminole County fire crew, the Seminole County Sheriff’s deputies and Florida Highway Patrolmen on scene was really what was on my mind.

     That changed, though, when another team arrived on the scene with whom I had not interacted before: the medical examiner and coroner. I was struck by the meticulous detail the M.E. had to document concerning the entire scene, the apparent cause of death, and even the body itself. Photographs were taken from every angle so as to preserve each view of the vehicle and the deceased. Her singular focus was that of capturing every relevant detail so that the story of the victim’s death could accurately be told. Who would later need that story to be told correctly? The victim’s family? Law enforcement? A jury? The M.E. carries a tremendous responsibility reporting to the living how a soul left this Earth; a story that will have a far-reaching impact, and that will endure through all the generations of the victim’s progeny.

     Another “caregiver of the dead” that gave me pause, however, was the man from the coroner’s office whose role was to transport the deceased away. I imagine that such a profession could become taxing. It’s never your job to transport the living or be involved in their rescue. No…all of your “clients” are dead. Your passengers, whether meeting their demise in peaceful or violent fashion, calmly or through much suffering, all have the same state of lifelessness. These keepers of the dead bear a burden which most are uncomfortable discussing. In film (especially westerns) they are portrayed as macabre characters all clad in black, randomly approaching the stranger in town with a tape measure so as to get a head start on building their coffin. They’re never featured as the happy individual with a normal family, a burgeoning romance, and a network of friends they meet down at the pub. We don’t like thinking about the dead, so we imagine their caregivers as someone we’d rather not be. This is very unfortunate.

     I must confess that I, myself, have been guilty of the above misconception before…that is until this encounter. As I observed the gentle care and attention to dignity shown for the dead by this man, I felt myself developing an entirely different view. With great personal alarm I realized how under-appreciated he has been, and others like him with the same job. My great hope is that I was able to be of some encouragement to him on the spot, for it was in the flashing minutes of standing there in the middle of the road that the epiphany of his necessity struck me. Flooding my mind was all the Biblical references to his role that I had read before, and the great need for his role across cultures.

     To some it might have seemed odd that I wanted to help him carry the body to his vehicle, but to me it had suddenly become a great privilege to assist him in any way. Overwhelmed with this new revelation, I wrote the following Prayer for the Coroner (shown below):

Our Father in heaven…

Who gave to our forefather, Joseph,
    faithful brothers that would carry his body
    to his final resting place in the Promised Land;
Who inspired women to care for the body of our Lord
    before He rose from the dead,
Grant, we ask, your Grace upon those that,
    with gentle care and respect for the departed,
    transport the earthly remains of those that have died
    as such souls leave for their heavenly journey.
Comfort those who must examine and report
    on the remains of people now gone
    in order to tell the story of their passing,
    that the living will know the truth how the deceased left this world.
By Your Spirit, remind these workers of respect for the dead
    of the great importance of their profession,
    and fill them with assurance that their example
    inspires the respect and reverence of others as well.
These things we ask on account of Him who first revealed his Resurrection
    to those who came to care for his body, Jesus Christ our Lord.       

Amen.

    Hopefully we all are able to better appreciate what these people do for us. When the dead leave us behind, our mourning process is facilitated by a chain of dedicated individuals that must care for our deceased loved one along the way; from the M.E. and coroner, to the funeral staff and even those that carry out what is done with remains (burial digging, cremation technician, etc.). Care for the dead is one of those bedrock practices that makes us human, separating us from animals and revealing culture in the archaeological record. Let us show our appreciation for these “caregivers of the dead” and consider the great calling they carry for our benefit.

Houston Spartan Race SPRINT Review

     Imagine my surprise when, following past race reviews, others would be sought by my peers. Obstacle Course Racing (OCR) has been a passion of mine since first discovering it in 2012. That was the year that my yearnings for athletic activities looked beyond the normal local 5K race for charity, and sought to interject a sense of adventure. A banner ad at the time intrigued me, which included a self-playing video clip of OCR legend Hobie Call jumping over fire, followed by the caption "Could a race change your life?" That was enough. I was instantly hooked as a "Spartan" and didn't even realize it. Spartan Race quickly became the go-to focus of a family wanting to increase our list of camaraderie and character building activities. We volunteered at the BEAST in Glen Rose, TX that year so as to earn our race registration for the following May where a SPRINT would be held in Burnet, TX. Our first exposure to Spartan Race was as volunteers, only later to actually run the course and fully understand how appropriate our passion had been. 

     That first race also introduced us to the larger world of OCR, the culture, personalities and ethos of it. In 2014-2015 we had opportunities to participate in several OCRs other than Spartan Race. I will tell you that our experiences with those OCR companies have left me quite content to simply fill my race calendar with Spartan races, unmotivated to attempt fitting others in. Either those others were in some way quite disappointing, or merely not spectacular enough to attempt fitting them in around the SRs that I already know I'll want to do. If it seems that my reviews are not entirely objective, at least I've disclosed my rationale. 

My race evaluation has come to include five categories of significance to me. The list is, of course, open to expansion, but these have been key areas according to my experience. The list described below is pasted from an earlier review: 

"Our evaluation score is based upon five categories or experience that we comment on to each other as we work as volunteers, run as racers together, and then later debrief about after the event. These five categories are:

• Staff - Were the event staff friendly, professional and patient? Were they accommodating of needs for water, food or bathroom breaks? Did they make an effort to help us volunteer together? At registration, were they warm, welcoming and organized?

• Logistics -  Did the event seem organized and well thought-out? Were sufficient materials brought to meet the attendance demand? How well were staff supplied with materials to perform their tasks (shirts, medals, radios, water, etc.)?

• Obstacles - Were they well-constructed? Did they offer an athletic challenge? Did they need explanation or were they self-explanatory? Was there a penalty for failing the obstacle? Was it also safe while being difficult?

• Trail - Was the course designed for a decent trail run? Did the outside venue (ranch, field, stadium, etc.) allow for the run itself to be part of the challenge with topographic variety (hills, canyons and plains)? 

• Festival area - Was the atmosphere electric and exciting? Were examples of obstacles constructed for contests and practice? Were exhibits, vendors, restrooms, showers, start and finish lines laid out in a sensible way? Were start and finish line experiences exciting and satisfying

On each of the above categories we offer 0-20 points, resulting in an accumulated score out of 100 points (making a letter grade easy to calculate)."

     For the Houston Spartan Race SPRINT, we volunteered in the morning and raced in the afternoon after having been relieved of our duties at the end of our shift. This has largely been our repeated custom from the beginning. The result has been that at any given OCR, we get the perspective of a worker for the event before we are a participant. For the Houston Spartan SPRINT, I score each category below:

Staff - While I've yet to have a negative experience with Spartan Race staff, some races stand out more than others in terms of staff care. For the Houston SPRINT, not only were they their usual professional, gracious and helpful selves, but they did so in the face of unexpectedly challenging conditions. For several days before the race, heavy rains had soaked the race venue, leaving the planned parking area unworkable. Thus at the last minute, a new location was selected, and school buses were contracted to shuttle racers from the new site to the festival area. These logistical obstacles faced the staff mere hours before race day, yet not a single attitude was out of sorts as droves of participants and volunteers showed up late because of the changes they also were having to adjust to as well. Volunteer registration was relatively smooth despite the changes that had been foisted open the process. 

     I'll admit to being at somewhat of an advantage for having volunteered so often that, without much direction, those with me and I were able to march purposefully to our assigned area and begin working, meeting our staff contact at the finish line, without any other assistance. At the finish line, our staff contact moved about regularly to make sure people drank water, had the necessary snacks, and felt freedom to check out other areas when heavy waves of finishers weren't keeping us busy. When our volunteer shift came to a close, the staff member did not need to be reminded to relieve us. They were on top of it, and we were released with plenty of time to prepare for our own race. Staff Score: 20 points

Logistics - As was mentioned above, heavy rains had required a last minute, major shift in racer/volunteer entrance to the venue. Spartan Race sent out an email alerting of the change, and out party was able to adjust accordingly. We parked where instructed. The school buses that had been procured were not on scene at the announced time though, allowing some lag time for a considerable crowd of people waiting at the new parking location. Nevertheless, the buses did arrive in force and shuttle services remained steady after that. To describe the race venue (Lazy W Ranch in Hempstead, TX) as "muddy" from all the rain is an exercise in understatement. In many respects, this was an enhancement, but that will be described later. In terms of working the race, tables sank and threatened to topple supplies, with considerable ponds of standing water where venue traffic areas might have otherwise allowed people to congregate. 

     Photography continues to be an area where hiccups can arise. Because timing pads are sometimes situated distant from an auto-camera location, finding one's self in the repository of action shots can be challenging. Finding photos actually tagged to your timing chip is hit-or-miss. I found all of mine, and those my companions, by scrolling through every single picture time-stamped between our start and finish times. Another trade arises in the presence and skill of photographers. Without them, auto-cameras (such as GoPro), do not know to turn and snap a shot of each racer in a pack of friends. Thus actions shots are missing for some racers when a herd of muddy participants stampede across the timing pad or by the GoPro station. I understand its a trade though, for hiring more photographers costs money, and some find registration costs already eyebrow-raising. However, concerning photographers, it often appears that photographers that are hired have a time limit themselves. More abundant, and more detailed pictures can be found for racers earlier in the day. This is not merely for elite racers; open heats starting before noon have a greater collection of action shots than those starting later (oh say, in a volunteer's heat). The photographers leave before all racers have passed their area. This is just my perception. Logistics Score: 17 points

Obstacles - By far the greatest obstacle of this race was the mud. In this way, the open heat racers can boast a greater toughness and grit than any of the elites that finished this SPRINT in less than an hour. Yes, the elite racers had some mud and water with which to contend, but they certainly did NOT struggle against 4.2 miles of earthen purgatory affixing itself to one's body like an animated horde of demons from the mythic underworld. The barely viscous and unholy sludge ranged from ankle to waist deep for most of the course. This would be exhausting enough, but it also made each obstacle 143% more difficult. I have never struggled to get over 8ft walls before (with the exception of the BEAST in Glen Rose last Oct which had similar ground conditions), but in this case the ground would simply not release my feet. Teamwork was an absolute requirement. The teams might have been pre-planned by friends racing together, or the team may have been spontaneous as Spartans stopped to assist one another, but only teams could overcome these walls once the ground began to deny any jumping whatsoever. 

    The mud enhanced some obstacles to make them more of a challenge than ever before. In previous races, nailing the spear throw was aided by taking a few steps for momentum. The mud disallowed that. Fortunately, I still got it, but it required a different throwing strategy and the collection of burpee penitents nearby was greater than normal. Sand bag carry, gravel buckets, and the atlas carry all were transformed into something far more epic and daunting. There were no particularly noteworthy obstacles that differed form what has become standard for Spartan Races. There's a comfort in knowing that I've become familiar with these varying tests of skill, strength and endurance. Without the mud though, this might have been a rather unremarkable event (within the normal range of Spartan Race; which is itself excellent, challenging and fun). For my part, I failed at just one obstacle. At the end, the multi-rig assembly of bars, rings and ropes created a large burpee corral that needed wide expansion after racers began bunching up there. The multi-rig continues to be the "Bane" of my existence; and I WILL conquer it! Perhaps if it was near the front, like the monkey bars were, but instead it was at the end, after the mud demons has sapped all of the energy away. The obstacles were within normal range, not particularly creative; however, they do get a boost from the mud enhancement.  Obstacles Score: 18 points

Trail - Even more so than the obstacles, the trail benefitted from the advent of the apocalyptic mud in our score. Without it, the course would have been topographically underwhelming. I'm simply not used to a Spartan Race lacking any hills. Previous SRs for me have been in either the Texas hill country or the Sierra-Nevada near Lake Tahoe. I'm used to shouting my "AROO!" as a means of encouraging others trudging up a woeful incline, or in denial about my own exhaustion. This course's trail contained no such elevation changes. Were I among the elite racers, I might have been wondered what all the fuss was about, but after it had been pulverized by several thousand racers into moon dust (just add water!), the trail became a living thing bent on resisting your progress. Don't miss understand! The trail was beautiful, the ranch picturesque in many places and the water obstacles a joy, but the mud adds approximately 5 points to the overall level of satisfying difficultly, which Spartan Race could not have anticipated...Unless of course we include God among the Spartan staff performing course design. Trail Score: 18 points

Festival Area - As with the rest of the course, the mud was the star of the show. Imagine a rodeo arena being doused with six inches of water, then thoroughly tenderized with horses and cattle, then add some low depressions that fill up to create inconvenient lakes. None of this was the fault of Spartan Race, however it created a complete lack of anywhere to set your gear down or rest in the festival area. Seating has always been at a premium at OCRs of all types, but this was exceptional. A couple more hay bales here and there might have helped, or perhaps some plywood laid down for major foot traffic routes. Admittedly, those are my "armchair" suggestions, not fully appreciating what goes into those tasks. But enough about the mud already!

     The layout of the festival area was well planned. "Spartan Rigs" had practice obstacles for warming up or even competing for a free future race. All the booths and merchandising were well placed. There were adequate restrooms, and I experienced no lines or gross lack of maintenance for them. At other races, the "showers" (water pumped through hoses and nozzles) have suffered from intermittent pump operation, sometimes losing water pressure or stopping altogether; not so here. The equipment was well attended and no hiccups occurred. The D.J. kept the music upbeat and constant, and even made the announcement at one point that a dog had been left in a car and law enforcement was about to break into the car if the owner didn't see to it soon. Staff were ubiquitous and helpful in the festival area. It just took 10 minutes to walk from one end to the other because of the mud. 

     The announcing was adequate, but unremarkable. Previous announcers have created such an air of electricity and excitement at the starting line that you truly felt immersed in the adventure you were about to begin. I understand that some up and coming announcers need to be given a chance to really get into their groove, but there's a certain amount of talent for it that comes into play also. With examples like Dustin Dorough of Spartan Race, or Dewayne Anderson of Battle Frog Series, having raised the bar so high, OCRs do well to keep announcing as something they look to maintain high standards for in talent, excitement, charisma and delivery. Some have even suggested this deserves it's own category in OCR reviews. I'm not sure of that. For now I'll leave it as part of festival because start/finish line experiences are part of it. 

     To balance that out...finish line experience doesn't have announcing; it has fire. The fire jump is the last obstacle to overcome (it used to be gladiators in SR's early days) before the finish line. It contributes most to the excitement before getting the medal around your neck and completing the day's epic struggle. Note to Spartan Race: PLEASE don't let the fire die down! Depending on how often the staff stoked the fire jump, some racers leapt over glorious, Michael Bay sized flames, while others just had to skip over some smoldering coals. This affects both the excitement of the finish and the brag-worthy photos people want to make their Facebook profile pic later on as well. Festival Score: 17

     With an overall score of 90, this places the Houston Spartan Race SPRINT in the A-/B+ range, depending on how you divide the letter grades. I try to be objective, but admittedly Spartan Race is also like "family" after a fashion, and it's tough to critique "family." Nevertheless, because I'm so fond of Spartan Race, I'll share ways that possibly they could be even better. If you don't have that connection, you won't say anything; you'll just go somewhere else, claiming the "grass was greener" at the other race. Every Spartan Race is different, and I have no doubt that some of these challenges were unique to this venue and weather conditions. Having said all that, Spartan Race's strengths are very well executed, and I'm looking forward to many more. 

Why I race...

As someone that is not an "athlete," doing things considered very athletic would seem out of the norm. Oh yes, I've had hobbies that have taken me outside into the mountains. I've enjoyed mountaineering (when I lived near mountains), which included hiking, rock climbing and camping (often in the snow). Many considered this exceptional, but it was not "athletic" as much as it was adventurous. I've enjoyed swimming all my life, riding bicycles and just about anything else that was a fun and rigorous activity that took me out into nature (including skiing and kayaking). These also, though indicative of an "active lifestyle, " do not make one an "athlete." I've known many that are serious athletes, and I've revered them for their discipline, their drive, focus and the results of being able to perform such incredible physical feats.

So then, the decision to engage in such an "athletic" enterprise as the Spartan Race is seemingly a step up from dabbling in just being an "active person." After all, there are plenty of fun opportunities, in the marketplace of activities now, to merely get muddy while trampling along a trail with friends headed to the beer-flowing party at the end. Why the decision to test myself with a race that, though also fun, enjoyable and "family friendly," is also a seriously athletic event that requires significant training in advance? Why engage in a race that required lifestyle changes and discipline I had not previously maintained? Why voluntarily sign up for something that mandated so much transformation?

Spartan Race offers a wide variety of races to participate in...

 

The Spartan "Sprint" is a race billed as "3+ miles with 15+ obstacles." The "+" is an important caveat because each course is custom designed. Thus, the "+" could mean a few more miles AND many more obstacles. You never know what you're going to get (*says in Forrest Gump voice*).

The "Super" Spartan is advertised as "8+ miles with 20+ obstacles," and the Spartan "Beast" being "12+ miles with 25+ obstacles." The Sprint is an athletic event in itself, but is also designed to be the most accessible of their races, wherein a person could enter who had never gotten off the couch before. The Super is where it starts requiring some training in advance in order to have an enjoyable experience, rather than a miserable one. The Beast is a half-marathon in length, but the inclusion of the obstacles make it, according to the testimony of some athletes, more difficult than a normal marathon (which I have never considered trying). As seen from the graphic above, the events that Spartan Race conducts go well beyond the Beast. Nevertheless, to set a goal for achieving the "Trifecta" (completing the first three - Sprint, Super and Beast - in a calendar year), is by far a more athletic pursuit that I have ever considered before...

...yet that is exactly what I am attempting in 2014 (the Spartan Beast is on November 1st)!

Spartan Race (and admittedly other race companies has risen up attempting to duplicate this function) has provided an activity that challenges many to push themselves beyond where they have been before. However, I have found, along with multitudes of others, that these races are indicated of more than merely physical struggles. They wind up being a physical, athletic analogy of other "obstacles" in life that must be overcome as well. 

The opening line of their promotion video is "Could a race change your life?" One might not think so, but an unexpected internal event occurs on the course. Suddenly what started out as a fun idea for the day turns into a test of will, and a nexus of mental, spiritual and emotional struggles. It demonstrates the folly of the ancient gnostic heresy that sought to separate body and spirit (it lingers on today in many forms). We are integrated complexities of matter and energy that cannot be separated even at death (thus the Christian doctrine of resurrection). Disciplines of the body cannot help but have a corresponding affect on the soul. The religious practice of fasting is an example of this. Several Biblical passages either elude to this or downright proclaim the connection.  The apostle Paul says "Instead I subdue my body and make it my slave, so that after preaching to others I myself will not be disqualified" (1 Cor 9:27). The classic spiritual disciplines have all had this as their motive. Training of the soul via discipline of the body. The connection is inescapable. Does this mean that all who discipline the body are spiritual growing? Not at all. But the connection is such that seldom do people find internal development that was not manifested externally also.

Classic spiritual disciplines have included both abstaining and engaging disciplines; meaning that one either abstains from an activity as their discipline (fasting), or engages in an activity (study/meditation) as their regimen. In most cases, it's a choice that involves activities of the body, and comprises actions of will, speech, choice, appetite, rigor and difficulty. Many perform these spiritual disciplines with full expectation that they will be changed as a result of it.

"Could a race change your life?" Those that understand and appreciate spiritual disciplines would answer in the resoundingly affirmative. For in training for the race, decisions are made regarding schedule, exercise and motivation that disciplines life and brings it into an order that might not have otherwise occurred. Encouragement and accountability is sought from other racers to prepare well and plan to gather for the event. The race itself brings all of this together, serving as a living analogy for struggles and trials faced in other categories of life.

Why do I race? Because of all of the other aspects of life that benefit from the decision to struggle and emerge. Because the discipline of it that hones the senses and sharpens the spirit. Because of the camaraderie among those racing for the same reasons. Because of the spontaneous moments of community evident on the course when people help and encourage each other. Because of the accomplishment of attempting and achieving something out of the norm. Because even training for it develops a fitness level, with the accompanying positive health benefits, that seemed out of reach before now. Because I believe that, were the apostle Paul writing much of the New Testament today, he would have used these races as analogies to make his point in at least a few places (along with the other sports, gladiatorial and military analogies he used). Because the course is all a physical, spiritual and mental challenge all put together. Because being "Spartan" has taken on meaning that applies to myriad struggles off the course as well.

Certainly this is not why everyone does it, but it's why I race.

Christians in the Academy

Early in the 20th century, as American Christian fundamentalists perceived a growing threat from modernism, the divide between science and religion, that started in the 19th century (thanks in no small part to the diverse applications of Charles Darwin's theory of evolution) began to rapidly widen even further. Having largely abandoned the arts as a "secular" pursuit following the Second Great Awakening, fundamentalism was already pulling away from higher education in the mainstream. The Scopes "Monkey" Trial of 1925, however, sealed the fate of hopes for the populist devout considering the bastions of science and art to be a welcoming environment. The perceived gulf betwixt science and religion was fueled by fundamentalist and atheist hostilities alike until it became clear that Christians needed their own "safe" schools; thus giving rise to the Bible college movement.

An interesting dynamic evolved from this mixture of antagonizing currents: both the "sacred" and the "secular" seemed to agree that neither territory was right place for each other. This informal truce resulted in science being held with suspicion in Bible colleges (after all, aren't all scientists just atheist, evolution evangelist bodysnatchers intent on undercutting everything our teens learned at Youth Group?), and Christian fundamentalists saw Bible colleges as the preferred (if other options were even considered) option for higher education following graduation from the private school conducted in the local Baptist church. "Don't send your kids to that secular college," grew the refrain, "they'll come home all eat up with the science and won't believe not'in you taught'em." The arts, the sciences and literature were fed them within the confines of the fundamentalist sub-culture of the Bible college movement. In like manner, because of the Fundamentalist pulling away from the universities, mainline institutions became progressively more accustomed to operating without them. Thus, a Christian behaving and thinking like a Christian on the university campus became increasingly counter-culture, out of place and odd.

My own experience is testifying to this rift between education and fundamentalist religion on various fronts. It's one thing to enter an arena deciding not to argue evolution with anyone, but it's another thing altogether to realize that the evolution they're teaching in the mainstream science disciplines doesn't remotely resemble the "evolution" I was taught to hate at the Bible college. To imagine a theological equivalent, it would be as if university professors teach that Christian preachers are still using Bible verses to argue in favor of slavery. The Fundamental Baptist response would be, "What? That hasn't been the case for 150 years!" And yet, Bible colleges similarly misrepresent universities as a means of demonizing the "other." The resulting effect is that when a Christian actually enters the university setting who can "play nice with others," it's something of an anomaly.  But surprisingly, it hasn't taken a lot of "bravery." The "attacks" to my faith simply have not materialized that I was taught were lurking around every marble-columned corner. The "monsters" of M. Night Shyamalan's "Village" just are not pouncing like I was trained to expect.

It's a shame that more Christians (that haven't also shed their faith in order to enter academia; thus confirming the fears of the parents sending their kids to Bible college) aren't moving back into the academic arena. Genuine faith has a legitimate voice among the messages of circulating around campus, and the "ivory tower" could use more input from those that didn't leave their piety at the entrance  - like shoes that are left in the lobby so as not to track dirt into the house. All it takes is an willingness to operate within the unique cultural dynamics of academia, which the proudly counter-cultural fundamentalism is ill-equipped to prepare you for. Many evangelicals are willing to do to this for the sake of missionary work. They adopt the language, fashion and many customs of the "culture" they wish in "infiltrate." The result might not be a rash of growing new churches in the target culture, but at least they will have demonstrated that Christians can function in that culture, being friendly and intelligent. Not that I think Christians should approach academia with the "hidden agenda" of converting those they find here; it would be enough just for more Christians to demonstrate they can function here, advancing the research and contributing positively to the education of young people off of the evangelical "reservation."

My experience is proving positive, and I haven't had to shed my faith to get it. I can only imagine that both academia and the Church would be served well by more having my experience also.

Bowhunting for No-Show Game

Some deer are just plain rude. We came for a visit and they spent their whole time away from the designated gathering area...

But I'm getting too far ahead in the story...

Back to the beginning.

Last weekend my daughter and I had the marvelous opportunity to go bowhunting for whitetail deer in the Texas hill country. A friend of mine had relatives living in a rural area where the deer are, according to their reports, so numerous as to be a nuisance for those attempting to grow flowers, trees or any other plants in their yard. "Come get'em," we were encouraged. "They're eating us out of house and home." Up until this point living in Texas, I had craved the chance to break into the local hunting scene. Frankly, because it differs so much with the west coast hunting paradigm, wherein you stalk your prey in a wilderness context, I had been skeptical whether I'd ever enjoy a predatory outing in the Lone Star State. Here so much of the land is privately owned that the notion of simply walking off into the mountains to be an ecological participant could not be more foreign. Instead it's necessary, in most cases, to pay for the right to hunt on someone's land (i.e. a "deer lease").

Ah yes...the deer lease. It's been described to me before. Apparently, one goes to this piece of pre-designated land (where you bought an annual lease), sits in a pre-fabricated "blind" (these booths often are elevated off the ground, contain satellite TV, an espresso machine, seat and hand warmers, concierge service and wifi) and points their weapon (rifle or bow) in the direction of a "deer feeder" (these strange contraptions disperse deer feed at pre-set times, along with soothing music, mixed drinks and various recreational drugs meant to offer deer a full pleasing experience) and wait for the appropriate moment when these trained animals of the wild (puh-leeeese!) respond to the dinner bell with crackerjack Pavlovian timing to hit their mark on the spot exactly at that range the marksman or archer had practiced the week before. This is called "hunting" in Texas. I find the term "harvesting" more appropriately applied to this practice. Nevertheless, whether "harvesting" or "hunting," the animal participating in this Circle of Life (shameless "Lion King" reference) has a greater chance of escaping unharmed than...oh say...the one that gave their life so that an anti-hunting activist can have their burger just the way THEY like it. But I digress...

If, however, one does not have a deer lease (they can be rather expensive), the other option is to know someone with land or a lease that is generous enough to invite you along. Such was the case when my friend invited my daughter and I to bring our bows and hunt near his relative's hill country home. I must say, the experience at their home was indicative of all things embedded in the phrase "southern hospitality." The cooking was rich and filling. The sleeping arrangements were plush and accommodating. The hostess' attention was reminiscent of a bygone era when "stewardesses" saw to passenger comforts to the degree unheard of among "flight attendants" today that toss you a bag of peanuts from three aisles away. In this way, the experience already felt nothing like the hunting I knew growing up in which the toughness of wilderness camping was part of the bragging rights. Warm showers available after the morning hunt? Heresy!...yet one I gladly embraced without reservation.

One hunting tradition to which I was accustomed was hiking at least a mile to the hunting spot away from camp, thus necessitating a 4:00 a.m. wake up time to allow for breakfast and hiking time, and be in the right spot at least 30 minutes before sunrise. On this hunt, the blind we were to use was approximately 25 yards from the house in the adjacent lot. This is akin to hunting in your neighbor's back yard. Now while this may not seem like adequate "roughing it" per se, it's important to note that this blind consisted of lounge chairs under low hanging tree limbs, with no espresso machine or wifi; HARDLY the luxury enjoyed by some...Don't judge me! In addition, our blind had two lines of fire that required the deer to stand motionless in front of the archer occupying each chair. In case the reader is thinking that we had it too easy, I'll remind you that the pre-dawn temperatures on both morning hunts were lower than what most people normally subject themselves too unless being initiated into the Polar Bear Club. Both mornings though, the deer exercised their prejudice against these west coast transplants to Texas and stayed warm in their lodge, popping open a cold beer, kicking back and laughing at the hunters shivering by themselves in the deer-less forest. No doubt their recreational drugs involved passing around a joint and giggling uncontrollably at the father/daughter team freezing their extremities, expecting deer to show up and introduce themselves.

Around 7:17 a.m., the silence was broken with signs of nearby animal life. A donkey from a nearby field proclaimed his obligatory "heehaw...heehaw" to accentuate the futility of our efforts. Roosters began their mocking chorus at daybreak, crowing sounds that, when roughly translated mean "You're freezing for no reason, silly people." At one point I did draw my bow back, prepared to let loose an arrow on a majestic "buck" approaching, but on further examination realized that this particular tree stump was never going to turn broadside for me. After the first day of finding about as much evidence of deer presence as can be found in the Houston Galleria, we decide to descend further into the Texas hunting customs with the addition of deer bait into the picture. Purchasing "deer corn" from a supermarket in the nearby town held promise of a different experience the following morning. We spread it along the trail in front of our blind, even pouring small piles of it where we wanted the deer to hold still so we could shoot them. Imagine our shame when, the following morning, we discovered that none of the deer corn had been consumed throughout the night. It was the ultimate insult. Not only did the deer rather stubbornly refuse to show themselves when we were present, but they even lifted their collective nose and rejected the free corn we offered for them to consume in our absence.

To those that feel I am overselling the embarrassment of this, I submit that the only time we DID see deer was, after leaving our blind with icicles hanging from our nose, when we were looking across over in a neighboring field and spied five does holding morning soccer practice. When they saw us from approximately 100 yards away, they pointed and giggled like popular high school mean girls, and bounded away to all go eat at the same table. With our deer corn untouched and our arrows having not flown on this outing, we sauntered back to the house to pack for the trip home. Of course, it was after all the gear was packed away, and our vehicle was leaving, that the once "missing" deer all lined the road leading out of the neighborhood, swaying back and forth, singing:

Na na na nah
Na na na nah
Hey hey hey
Goodbye.....
(repeat)

Once our SUV turned back on the highway, those lazy pothead deer that had been kick'in it at the lodge got the munchies and filed outside to consume the deer corn we had left for them. Those that were still hungry went back to eating the rose bushes our hostess was trying to preserve through our hunting efforts. I hope to return sometime to be that line of defense for her landscaping.

As this was my first time experiencing Texas deer hunting, I can say that it was indeed a great departure from the wilderness experience I grew up with. However, not all traditions from my youth were discarded. There was still occasion to cover my face with intimidating camouflage paint, looking mean enough to scare the deer to death should my skills as an archer be found wanting. Snickers bars (fun size...a childhood staple) still found their way into the "ditty bag" (fanny pack) to satisfy that special hunger that attacks you about twelve minutes before and after sunrise. All in all, though the deer obviously were better at surveillance of us than we were of them this time, it was rewarding to at least get our feet wet in this new arena, leaving with plenty of ideals to hunt those disrespectful, pothead, absentee animals next time.