Driving home from work the other night, I almost hit a deer.
Near-misses with deer are nothing new - I grew up in Wisconsin, after all. But this was in a parking lot, in town. The Monroe Times parking lot, to be precise. Sometime after 11 p.m. one night this week, as I was leaving work, a young deer bounded right in front of me, barely missing my left front bumper.
Not that seeing wildlife out here at the Times building on 4th Avenue West is anything new. We're almost in the midst of our own little nature preserve, thanks to the proximity of Honey Creek and the prairie next door.
There's plenty of deer - they're usually off in the timber, not the parking lot, although they're been spotted in Ruda's lot across the street. One day last winter we must have seen at least two dozen grazing just south of the building.
A couple of times, big fat toads have hopped into the building. (FYI: Sports reporter Mark Nesbitt is not particularly helpful in these situations.)
One year, staffers took a keen interest in the progress of duck nest right outside our side door. Then, one sad night, there was a horrible racket in the parking lot and we went outside to find a skunk had gotten the eggs, leaving the momma duck to wander around, quacking pitifully.
The most startling encounter was coming within a few yards of coyote. I had gone out through the Times' garage door one night. At first I thought the shape some 15 feet away was a dog. I quickly realized it was a coyote. We both stood motionless and watched each other for a good 20 seconds before the coyote turned and loped away.
But I wasn't thinking about any of this when I had my near-miss with the deer this week. What I was thinking was I was really glad, on many levels, that I didn't have to shoot it and eat it.
OK, so maybe I've been watching a few too many episodes of "Life Below Zero," a reality show about living near the Arctic Circle in Alaska. The people on the show don't have ready access to grocery stores, and when they do, food prices are sky high. The show highlights some of the hardships they face in everyday life: the constant struggle to hunt enough wild game to eat and to chop enough firewood to keep from freezing.
I like shows like this, ones that highlight the human will to survive. For a while, I watched "Naked and Afraid," and "Dual Survival" with my daughters in the hopes that we would pick up survival tips in case we ever found ourselves in a remote, hostile environment without food or potable water or protective clothing. I've since surmised my energy is better spent making sure we don't end up in a remote, hostile environment without insect repellent and plenty of snacks.
I thought my husband might enjoy "Life Below Zero" as a change from his usual entertainment diet of "Star Trek" reruns and World War II documentaries. So I told him about one husband and wife couple on the show who work together to hunt, trap and fish to feed their family. They use the animal hides to make wares to sell, and trade and barter any extra food for anything else they need.
"They are subsistence hunters and gatherers," I explained.
"Is there much money in that?" he asked.
Thinking he hadn't heard me correctly, I repeated myself:
"They are subsistence hunters," I said.
And still he persisted.
"Is there any money in that?" he asked again.
Either we were having a serious failure to communicate or John and I would never make it as a hunting/gathering couple in the Arctic Circle. Actually, I'm quite certain of both.
So that's why, when I left work and almost hit that deer, I was glad that I didn't have to pull out a rifle and attempt to shoot it, and then butcher it and tan the hide and whip up a pair of mukluks and build a fire and make myself something to eat. That's what my friends up near the Arctic Circle would do if they stumbled upon a caribou while out riding their snowmachines.
It was late, I was tired and I just wanted a little snack while I watched an episode of "Life Below Zero" before bed.
Luck was on my side. When I got home, I foraged around the kitchen until I found, hidden in a Tupperware container on the counter, a blueberry muffin. I was able to snare it, and quickly and humanely dispatch it. That muffin was enough to ensure my survival for another few hours.
Apparently, I'm a gatherer, able to provide sustenance through my wits and determination.
As long as there's no deer in the supermarket's parking lot.
- Mary Jane Grenzow is editor of the Monroe Times.
She can be reached at
editor@themonroetimes.com.
Her column appears on Saturdays.
Near-misses with deer are nothing new - I grew up in Wisconsin, after all. But this was in a parking lot, in town. The Monroe Times parking lot, to be precise. Sometime after 11 p.m. one night this week, as I was leaving work, a young deer bounded right in front of me, barely missing my left front bumper.
Not that seeing wildlife out here at the Times building on 4th Avenue West is anything new. We're almost in the midst of our own little nature preserve, thanks to the proximity of Honey Creek and the prairie next door.
There's plenty of deer - they're usually off in the timber, not the parking lot, although they're been spotted in Ruda's lot across the street. One day last winter we must have seen at least two dozen grazing just south of the building.
A couple of times, big fat toads have hopped into the building. (FYI: Sports reporter Mark Nesbitt is not particularly helpful in these situations.)
One year, staffers took a keen interest in the progress of duck nest right outside our side door. Then, one sad night, there was a horrible racket in the parking lot and we went outside to find a skunk had gotten the eggs, leaving the momma duck to wander around, quacking pitifully.
The most startling encounter was coming within a few yards of coyote. I had gone out through the Times' garage door one night. At first I thought the shape some 15 feet away was a dog. I quickly realized it was a coyote. We both stood motionless and watched each other for a good 20 seconds before the coyote turned and loped away.
But I wasn't thinking about any of this when I had my near-miss with the deer this week. What I was thinking was I was really glad, on many levels, that I didn't have to shoot it and eat it.
OK, so maybe I've been watching a few too many episodes of "Life Below Zero," a reality show about living near the Arctic Circle in Alaska. The people on the show don't have ready access to grocery stores, and when they do, food prices are sky high. The show highlights some of the hardships they face in everyday life: the constant struggle to hunt enough wild game to eat and to chop enough firewood to keep from freezing.
I like shows like this, ones that highlight the human will to survive. For a while, I watched "Naked and Afraid," and "Dual Survival" with my daughters in the hopes that we would pick up survival tips in case we ever found ourselves in a remote, hostile environment without food or potable water or protective clothing. I've since surmised my energy is better spent making sure we don't end up in a remote, hostile environment without insect repellent and plenty of snacks.
I thought my husband might enjoy "Life Below Zero" as a change from his usual entertainment diet of "Star Trek" reruns and World War II documentaries. So I told him about one husband and wife couple on the show who work together to hunt, trap and fish to feed their family. They use the animal hides to make wares to sell, and trade and barter any extra food for anything else they need.
"They are subsistence hunters and gatherers," I explained.
"Is there much money in that?" he asked.
Thinking he hadn't heard me correctly, I repeated myself:
"They are subsistence hunters," I said.
And still he persisted.
"Is there any money in that?" he asked again.
Either we were having a serious failure to communicate or John and I would never make it as a hunting/gathering couple in the Arctic Circle. Actually, I'm quite certain of both.
So that's why, when I left work and almost hit that deer, I was glad that I didn't have to pull out a rifle and attempt to shoot it, and then butcher it and tan the hide and whip up a pair of mukluks and build a fire and make myself something to eat. That's what my friends up near the Arctic Circle would do if they stumbled upon a caribou while out riding their snowmachines.
It was late, I was tired and I just wanted a little snack while I watched an episode of "Life Below Zero" before bed.
Luck was on my side. When I got home, I foraged around the kitchen until I found, hidden in a Tupperware container on the counter, a blueberry muffin. I was able to snare it, and quickly and humanely dispatch it. That muffin was enough to ensure my survival for another few hours.
Apparently, I'm a gatherer, able to provide sustenance through my wits and determination.
As long as there's no deer in the supermarket's parking lot.
- Mary Jane Grenzow is editor of the Monroe Times.
She can be reached at
editor@themonroetimes.com.
Her column appears on Saturdays.
