Word: deere
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...superabundance of hunters (15 million this year) and a paucity of places to hunt. Wary farmers post NO TRESPASSING signs; creeping asphalt and urban sprawl gobble up more land each year. What open land remains is often overcrowded. Last week in northern Michigan's Ogemaw County, the deer hunter population was 100 per sq. mi. In the East, it is worth a man's life to venture into the woods. "I don't know which is safer," says one hunter. "Wearing a Day-Glo coat or hanging a pair of antlers on my head." So what does...
Boars on Horseback. Preserves are nothing new. New Hampshire's 25,000-acre Blue Mountain Forest Inc. was stocked in 1890 with deer, antelope, moose, elk, caribou, and Himalayan mountain goats. Railroad Magnate Austin Corbin chased boars there on horse back with javelins. Today, there are nearly 2,000 preserves in the U.S.-most of them open to anybody with a box of shells and a handful of greenbacks. Some are nothing more than dusty, played-out farms, stocked with a few pheasants and partridges. Others cater to the whims of an affluent society...
...rugged, remote northwest corner of Montana, the Yaak River Valley is a picture postcard of some yesteryear. Moose muse among the willows. Elk graze on the slopes. White-tailed deer browse in the bottom land. Deep among the whispering pine and the hemlock, among the silver aspen and birch, the bears dig into windfalls for grubs. Rainbow trout, cutthroat and whitefish tumble in Beetle and Winkum Creeks...
...security money, and they did not know if they could afford the $10-a-month minimum charge for electricity. Besides, says Mamie Johnson, 79, "I'd rather have spent the money for a game license. I do some fishing, but I'd like to get me a deer this fall, and a bear. I'd sure like to get the juice from a fat bear. Makes a fine oil for salad." Nevertheless, the Johnsons have signed...
...author's satire to a cruel point. His scenes in the London slums are brief but harrowingly Hogarthian: and Squire Western's hunt explains more powerfully than words could possibly explain the senselessness and horror of blood sport. Mile after mile the chase goes on: the running deer all terror and loveliness, the men and the dogs all grinning the same blank, murderous, animal grin. Then all at once the deer collapses. Blood in their eyes, the men and the dogs fall upon it together. They snarl and they slaver, they tear at its throat. Smeared scarlet, Squire...