Death in Northeast Washington: Deer Hunting without Reverence

Death in Northeast Washington. What we hear is this: A young man and his father were hunting in Northeast Washington. See recent stories -- Spokesman-Review; Seattle-Times. There were various hunting camps in the area made up of father - son hunters. The camps got together on a Saturday night for some fun and drinking. Things got out of control. One son made threats. A father told his son to get in their pickup truck and be ready to drive away. Some time afterward the father put a rope around the neck of one of the hunter sons, the one said to have been threatening others. He told his son to drive away. The son in the truck followed his father’s command. Apparently he did not know the other end of the rope was tied to the truck’s bumper hitch. One father’s son died by being dragged by the neck over many miles.

I used to hunt deer in Northern Minnesota with my father, brothers, and the fathers and sons of other Minnesota men from the country. In a way it was a reverent event not unlike the sort of attitude one would have when killing a pig for a winter’s worth of meat, sausage, head cheese and lard. Guns were handled with a great deal of care. We would move through the woods in quiet – no talking, careful steps so as not to break any branches on the trail, gently moving branches out of our paths and placing them back so there was no sound.

There was hardly any drinking in the Northern Minnesota woods during deer season. If there was any the father’s sons normally did not participate. No one drank to excess at any of the various hunting camps or summer lake cabin used during the season.

Of course there were always exceptions: Once I remember my father clearly indicating to a deer hunting party from the Twin Cities who were wandering inebriated through the woods and shooting at things with their high powered deer rifles it was time for them to leave. They were endangering my bothers and others in our party who had already gone to their deer stands or were ahead of us and on their way. My father was calm, I stood behind him on the forest trail we were taking to our deer stands. I watched as he confronted the hunters making his words clear as to what the hunters were going to do next. When they objected he made his words a bit more meaningful with the slight but perceptible lifting of his 30-30 lever action. It was time for the hunters from the cities to be on their way, on their way entirely out of the woods. No more words were spoken.

The reverence of the hunt returned and my father an I continued a few more miles to our deer stands deep in the Minnesota forest, each of us hidden in gently sloping ravine leading up from a large lake a three hundred yards distant.