The Associated Press reported that nearly 500,000 Minnesota deer hunters took to their deer stands on opening weekend.

Tuesday, November 09, 1999

The Associated Press reported that nearly 500,000 Minnesota deer hunters took to their deer stands on opening weekend. This is their story:

They are anybody and a good percentage of everybody.

The vast majority of them are fathers and sons, whose fathers’ fathers set in motion the deer hunting traditions of today.

One can also find wives, girlfriends and daughters among the hunting class.

My father told my mother that one day he will gladly teach his granddaughter to hunt.

My mother responded, "You better ask her parents first."

That would be OK with me, provided it’s what she wants to do.

Because as I alluded to earlier, hunting isn’t for everybody.

But, again, hunting is for anybody.

Anybody with a butt and a decent shot can hunt.

For those who want to hunt, but are uneasy with a gun, take comfort in the fact that decent shots are not born, they’re made through years and many rounds of target practice.

Back in the day, a decent shot might have been called a snort.

The old guard of my hunting party used to have a snort or two while sitting in the deer stand.

But those days are long gone. It’s a matter of knowing now what they didn’t know – or didn’t care to practice – then.

So the only snorting that goes on now comes from the bucks.

My dad’s got a great story about how he was sitting in his stand one day when heard something behind him.

He turned ever so slowly only to get snorted in the face with a big white cloud of the buck’s cold breath.

It takes one smart buck to realize the error of his ways, then to set a diversion before high tailing his white tail out of there.

But then, you learn that the bucks are – if not smarter – the more cautious gender.

In the deer world, "women and children first" is not a chivalrous practice. Rather, it’s a litmus test for bucks’ survival.

Allow me to illustrate.

A year ago, I sat using my butt as I watched one, two, … six does and fawns walk out onto the field.

Finally, after studying from the woods the apparent security of the does and fawns, the buck carefully joined them on the field.

I shot him.

The poor guy failed to take into account that I did not have a doe permit.

From doe permits, the phrase "If it’s brown it’s down" was born.

I can’t speak for anybody else, but I’m not big on the "brown-down" theory.

Once you’ve bagged a buck, you never look at the does the same again.

Those big brown eyes and the two fawns trailing after her make shooting a doe about as fun as fishing the pond at an arena boat show.

When you only shoot the bucks, they call it "buck fever."

I’ve got it. So do thousands and thousands of others.

It’s one sickness we’ll never be rid of.

It’s just too bad the symptoms include bed sores on our bottoms.

But, they’re only temporary.

And I guarantee you one thing, my butt will always be in hunting shape.

What a sport!

Brady Slater’s column appears Tuesdays