Less Firing, More Range

Then there's the mysterious Season Shot, a shotgun shell currently "under development," according to its great Web site (www.seasonshot.com), which boasts perhaps the best slogan found on any hunting product: "Shoots, Kills, Seasons." The idea is that the shot dissolves in the kill, so there is "no shot left in the bird to chip your teeth." (Yes non-hunters, that's a real problem). Because the product claims to be biodegradable "ammo with flavor," it melts when it's heated—and voila! The meat is already seasoned and the hard shot is gone. The yet-to-be-released miracle product will come in Cajun, lemon-pepper, and teriyaki, among other flavors. This stuff has been featured on many radio shows, including NPR's "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me!" but many hunting bloggers speculate that it's a hoax. One online wag opined: "Nothing like eating the flavored wound of a bird." If it's not fake, and you're reading this, please send me some so I can test it. I'm thinking honey mustard.

The words used by manufacturers to describe modern—and not so modern—hunting gadgets are lyrical and creative, to the point of Seussian excess. There are game calls named raccoon squallers and coyote howlers and duck squawkers. Hunting writer Bob Peck at Bowcountry.com spent an entire article arguing the merits of the wonderfully named Deluxe Whisker Biscuit, using the BoDoodle TimberDoodle as a benchmark, and testing the products using a Hooter Shooter, otherwise known as the industry's "First Portable Shooting Machine." If you're curious, the topic of the review was a mechanical hunting arrow rest, as in "bow and," that stabilizes and helps aim the critter-seeking projectile. The tester used the Hooter Shooter because it shoots with "perfect form."

If the hunt is done and you're back at the cabin and want a change of pace, why not pop in a copy of Bikini Bucks, a video that seems to show scantily clad women either killing deer or posing with dead ones. Sadly, despite hours of Internet research, this writer was unable to come up with the tape by press time, and can only imagine its wonders. But if you're lucky enough to already own a copy, you probably know what it says in the ad is true: "Anyone who can truly appreciate the magicalness of the whitetail deer will enjoy this film, over and over." Over and over, indeed.

What does all of this crazy hunting accoutrement mean for the future of shooting animals? (And what kind of hunting writer uses the word "accoutrement?") After God gave us the gun, did we really need to get so greedy? To find out the answer, I put together a card-table discussion with two expert hunters, men who regularly kill several deer a year. The first, a hunter with over 60 years experience in the field—and whom, for the purposes of this article, we'll call "my dad"—says a lot of these wacky tools are "really stupid stuff." The other expert, heretofore known as "my little brother," has no doubt that some of it works, but wondered aloud who would want to "carry all of that crap into the woods?" They agreed to disagree on whether it matters to the deer that my dad's clothes smell like Tide. As for that girl who ignored me in high school, there was no opinion, probably because I didn't ask. Most likely it was because I looked like a 6-foot 3-inch stick with a huge Adam's apple and a head the size of a prize-winning pumpkin.

© 2008