At work, Lake, or John, or Angela, or Tim will ask how my day is going. I'll tell them about the big buck I saw, or the twin fawns, or the three or four does, and I'll see eyes glaze over. Tongues snake out and swipe lips, trigger fingers begin to twitch.
"Yeah," I'll say, "you can see it on my blog. I posted pictures."
The next day they'll sidle up and ask if I have a landowner tag.
I just shake my head and tell them about the young buck I saw that day, much younger than the big one I saw the day before.
"Where do you live?"
I'll just smile.
Come hunting season, I'll usually have two or three hunters offer to come fix something at my house. Phffft. I know the real reason they are offering.
They can't have my deer.
I'll probably still continue to torture them. It is a weakness. I admit it.
Is it too mean?