Ron Schara: Don’t approve of deer hunting? Don’t be a hypocrite

With apologies to Mickey Mouse, in recent weeks I’ve been running a trapline to eliminate a mouse invasion – a very impressive one, I must say.

In my garage alone, a herd of mice, roughly 10 strong, have been trapped and removed, thanks to a slab of peanut butter and my trapping skills. Of late, my trapline still offering tasty peanut butter has gone untouched, which could be an indication the invaders have been eliminated. Ditto for the unsnapped traps awaiting mice in two backyard sheds.

I’m not claiming to be mouseless yet, but I’m not seeing any new, shall we say, mouse droppings. As I ran a daily check of my mouse trapline, I noted that all of the mice I was nabbing were deer mice, not house mice – two different species but with the same goal: to live with you.

Deer mice, with a white under-tail, typically reside in woodlands or fields but are not above invading buildings. The house mouse is kind of an urban mouse and prefers your house.

I share with you my mouse wars today because a dear friend of mine recently revealed her mouse-control method is more humane than the snap of a trap. She admitted to a case of mouse sympathy. As a result, she live-traps her invading mice and carries them away to be released somewhere else to – I guess – live happily ever after. Or perhaps in someone else’s house.

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While her compassion for a mouse is admirable in a way, I reminded her that having mice live where you live is a recipe for diseases, property damage, and a supply of, shall we say, mouse droppings. She was not convinced, although I asked if she had the same sympathy for the Hereford.

The steer wasn’t released to live happily ever after. It was whacked in the head, butchered, and headed for her freezer and, later, her barbecue grill.

We’re still friends, by the way.

Those of us who claim to love animals (and I count myself as one) are often faced with a case of hypocrisy when it comes to the cycle of life. We some times are forced to decide what animal lives and what animal dies. I’ve often wondered how many folks would parade into McDonald’s for a Big Mac if, first, they had to decide which steer should die.

I don’t know the answer. But I do know folks who claim to be animal lovers and can’t stand the thought of killing anything are all hypocrites. An example follows.

Many years ago, I was hunting deer along Minnesota’s North Shore and staying in a small cabin. A hunter in the next cabin was successful one morning and hung a nice buck from a nearby tree. That evening, there was a knock on my cabin door by a friend who knew where I was staying. He looked harried.

“Hey, you’ve got to talk to my wife,’’ he said. “She saw that deer hanging from the tree and she’s crying her eyes out.”

“Come in,” I told him.

Clearly, his wife was sad and upset after seeing such a beautiful animal hanging on a rope.

When I asked what was wrong, she said she couldn’t understand how anybody could shoot such an beautiful creature that wasn’t hurting anybody. The tears kept flowing.

To try to ease her mind, I gently explained that deer are a renewable resource and need to be managed. I explained that the deer wouldn’t be wasted and would provide tasty venison. I said we can hunt deer and still have deer.

None of my attempts to justify killing the deer dried her tears. Finally, I decided to reveal her hypocrisy.

I asked her how many tears she’s shed for a deer woods that has been cleared and turned into housing development. How many times did she donate money for deer-management programs to make sure we always have deer? Did she ever buy a deer-hunting license that helps pay for deer managers and researchers?

Crying over a dead deer isn’t going to do anything to make sure we always have deer, I told her. I’m pretty sure I didn’t convince her to be a deer hunter that day. But, she quit crying.

And we’re still friends.