How the Grinch Stole Hunting Season

In answer to the awful, dreadful opening day of hunting season, I’m re-posting the following uplifting poem (based on the Dr. Seuss classic Christmas cartoon)…

How the Grinch Stole Hunting Season

Every hunter

Down in Hunt-ville

Liked hunting season a lot…

But the Grinch,

Who lives just North of Hunt-ville,

Did NOT!

The Grinch hated hunting! The whole hunting season!

Now, please don’t ask why. There are many good reasons.

It could be because hunter’s heads aren’t screwed on quite right.

It could be, perhaps, that their belts are too tight.

But I think that the most likely reason of all

May be that their hearts (and other parts) are two sizes too small.

“They’re cleaning their guns!” the Grinch snarled with a sneer.

“Tomorrow is hunting season! It’s practically here!”

Then he growled, with his Grinch fingers nervously drumming,

“I MUST find a way to keep hunting season from coming!”

For, tomorrow, he knew…

…All the Hunt-girls and boys

Would wake up bright and early. They’d rush for their toys!

Their rifles, their shotguns—all things that destroy!

And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!

That’s one thing he hated! The NOISE! NOISE! NOISE! NOISE!

Then they’d carve up the body of some unfortunate beast,

Which was something the Grinch couldn’t stand in the least!

And they’d feast! And they’d feast!

And they’d FEAST! FEAST! FEAST! FEAST!

I MUST stop hunting season from coming!

…But HOW?”

Then he got an idea!

A brilliant idea!

THE GRINCH

GOT A WONDERFUL, INSPIRED IDEA!

“I know just what to do!” The Grinch laughed in his throat.

And he made a quick Santy Claus hat and a coat.

And he chuckled, and clucked, “What a great Grinchy trick!

With this coat and this hat, I’ll look just like Saint Nick

And I’ll slide down their chimneys, empty bags in my fist,

AND I’LL STEAL ALL THEIR FUCKING AMMO!”


Text and Wildlife Photography ©Jim Robertson

In Memory

The days are growing shorter, the nights cooler and you’ve long since polished the previous summer’s velvet off your antlers. You’re feeling primed and ready for the coming breeding season. But you’re torn between the urge to seek out others of your kind and the nagging awareness that you shouldn’t let yourself be seen by the strange upright beasts who turn foul and aggressive this time of year.

Your mate and the rest of the does, whose company you yearn for, don’t have as much to fear as you and the other bucks. At first sight of your proud antlers, the horrible 2-leggers will zero-in and follow you like bloodthirsty mosquitos…

One of them has been on your trail all morning. You hear the cracking of a branch and run for the heavy cover of a spruce thicket, but you see him out of the corner of your eye and are sure he saw you too. Your heart is pumping hard and you’re feeling panicky, but you know you must keep your head or risk making the wrong move. Cautiously proceeding deeper into the forest, you lose track of the pursuer and hope he’s gone away.

All at once you feel the searing pain of something tearing into your side and a loud crack like thunder pierces the silence. You fall to the ground gasping for air. Someone is approaching, but you can’t get up—the pain is all-consuming. He is standing over you now, pressing something sharp against your throat…

Everything is going black as you think back on autumns past and envision your mate and the young ones…and fear for their safety.

Wildlife Photography Copyright Jim Robertson