A new source for taxes
It’s the time of year when woodland creatures go wild. Animals are looking for love. It’s like Friday night in Times Square, Vegas 24/7, Match.com for mammals.
Squirrels are romping across the streets and getting squashed, moose are coming out of the marshes crazed by hormones, and worst of all, deer land on car bumpers or motorists land on antlers. It’s crazy what love will make us do.
I’m convinced Metro-North’s recent outage, which crippled the trains for more than a week, was the result of two love-crazed squirrels prancing over the power lines in amorous pursuit.
Beware of mating season, aka THE RUT, especially if you live near the woods. Even if you don’t live near the woods, the woods will come to you.
Last week, I worked from home, and all day long the dog barked because deer were promenading through the yard to nibble on the hosta and impatiens.
This feeding frenzy occurred during broad daylight. When the mother with three fawns conceived last October came out for a midday snack, the dog jumped up and started barking so bad I thought Miley Cyrus was twerking on the front lawn. I got up from my work — I always work hard at home so the boss man doesn’t think I’m loafing or playing Candy Crush — and raced to the window. There was a gang of deer standing five feet away, munching on our plants as if the garden was a tapas restaurant.
At night, they wander around the neighborhood, foraging for food and looking for love, sort of like a deer bar crawl.
The dog went from an insane bark to an insane howl, which prompted the deer to look up, roll their eyes and continue snacking. The dog looked at me in total confusion. Something isn’t right with the natural order when deer have no fear. So to put the fear of God in them, I started pounding on the window and yelling, “Get the ^#!%@#$ out of here, you mangy tick-infested deadbeats!”
No response. They didn’t even look up. Yes, the world is spirally wildly out of control when deer ignore Man and Man’s Best Friend. How humiliating.
My manhood insulted, I ran to the basement to get my BB gun and that’s when my wife started yelling, “NOOOO! Don’t you dare hurt those bambis!”
“This won’t hurt. It will just scare them!”
“Don’t do it! Don’t even think about doing it!”
What’s the world coming to when deer, which have cost me thousands of dollars over the years, win the sympathy vote with my wife? This is the same woman who every summer wastes money on concoctions guaranteed to repel woodland creatures — a woman who should know by now that deer love hosta so let’s get rid of the hosta and plant briar bushes.
I love wildlife almost as much as the PETA people, who are so committed to their cause, they pose buck-naked to protest fur coats. They’re on to something. If more people were buck-naked, there would be fewer armed robberies, New York City wouldn’t need a “stop and frisk” law and Congress might be inspired to pass a spending plan.
Anyway, I didn’t get the BB gun and the deer continued to munch. I even gave them my Caesar salad and was prepared to invite them inside to go through the refrigerator.
My friends in New Hampshire think we’re crazy.
“They’re good eating,” one fellow told me.
But that will never happen in Connecticut. The only way we’ll get rid of them is if we tax them.
Joe Pisani can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.