OH DEER! – Harvest Or Holocaust?

I just read an article about this year’s white-tail deer-hunting “harvest” here in Minnesota. And it’s got me thinking. 

For years I’ve wondered whether hunting—or for that matter fishing, which I love—are even morally defensible for one who sees himself an evolving human being. But I’ll leave that concern for another time. For now, let’s just say I wonder if most people realize the astounding number of deer dying at human hands.

When I was a boy, I read—probably in either Boys Life or Ripley’s Believe It Or Not—that in Pennsylvania alone over 30,000 deer died that year just being hit by cars! That’s when I first became aware of the sheer number of deer that must live in our fields and forests in order for that mortality rate to not completely decimate the population. 

PHOTO: Maciej Bledowski / Adobe Stock

So this latest article renewed my fascination with cervine mortality. It’s led me to both revisit those roadkill stats and add to the mix deaths exacted by hunters. Here are some of the recent statistics: 

Here in Minnesota, the number of deer-vehicle-collisions in 2024—virtually all resulting in the animals’ deaths—was estimated at around 40,000.*

And the Minnesota hunting toll? Somewhere around 171,000.** In one year. In one state. And Minnesota is far from the deadliest place for deer. In Pennsylvania, the body count was an astounding 476,000.***

PHOTO: Deer + Deer Hunting

    Some 6,000,000 deer die annually at the hands 
    of hunters. That’s a venison Whopper of 
    nearly a billion pounds.

IMAGE: Shutterstock

FLESHING OUT THE STATS 
To grasp that number, imagine a sold-out crowd of Philadelphia Eagles fans packed into Lincoln Financial Field—around 70,000 people. Now, let's imagine swap-
ping out every one of those human beings for a white-tail doe or buck.

Now shoot and kill them. All of them.

Next, haul out and truck away all those carcasses and in-
vite 70,000 more deer to the stands. And kill them too.

PHOTO: KUAM News

Repeat this turnover six-and-a-half times. 

Or, let’s look at it another way: by weight. The average deer weights about 150 pounds. So that 2024 Pennsylvania hunting season delivered a bit over 71,000,000 pounds of venison, hide and bone. (This begs the question, doesn’t it: how much of that meat was actually consumed by the hunters?)

PHOTO: Peak to Plate

Again, this is just Pennsylvania. In the whole country some 6,000,000 deer die annually at the hands of hunters.**** That’s a venison Whopper of nearly a billion pounds.

For further perspective, consider that human murders in the U.S in 2024 (according to the FBI) totaled about 17,000. U.S. human deaths the same year from all causes: around 3,000,000. 

How we can cull such numbers of these beautiful woodland animals year after year and still see well over a hundred times as many of them in the U.S. as there were a century ago?***** (In fact, many now see deer as pests, an invasive species.)

There are several factors: wildlife management practices; adaptation to changing habitats and conditions; and the decline and/or relocation of the species' natural predators. I guess thinning the herd by 6,000,000 doesn't make much of a dent when that leaves 30,000,000 of them, all breeding faster than we can kill them.

       Ultimately, it comes down to us human 
       beings’ troubled membership in Earth’s 
       family of sentient beings. 

INFORMED BRUTALITY
For me, one takeaway from my research is to recall that admonition we always hear from our vegan friends—and others promoting thoughtful consumption—that we should all know the brutal facts about where our meat comes from.

PHOTO: USDA

(Believe it or not, one of the standard field trips for Linwood Park School, my elementary school, was a visit to the meat-packing plants of South St. Paul. There we did, indeed, witness the live animals conveyed into the abattoir and the carcasses conveyed out; the awful cacophony of machinery and the animals’ desperate bleating; gutters coursing with still-warm blood.)

Another much broader effect might be to ask ourselves if we take too much of life—especially non-human life—for granted. As a species arguably well on our way to destroying our precious planet, we persist in such hubris at our own peril.

Again, my point is not to impugn hunting, fishing or consuming animal protein. After all, many of us were compelled by our native environments to be carnivores. 

But we were also destined to evolve. 

So let's be thoughtful, my friends. Let us first appreciate the vastness of our planet, the sheer numbers of our fellow organisms—like deer—with whom we share it.

Let's learn to be more aware of our tenuous membership in Earth’s family of sentient beings. Understand the life-and-death consequences of everything we do. And recognize the manifest oneness of Creation.

PHOTO: Whitetail Deer

                                    
* University of Minnesota Center for Transportation Studies
** Minnesota Department of Natural Resources 
*** Pennsylvania Game Commission
**** National Deer Association 

A Slew of Subarus? Who Knew?

The very first new car I ever bought—In Brattleboro, Vermont, back in 1973—was a wimpy little yellow Subaru DL sedan. I paid $2459 for it. I remember lamenting that its engine was the same size as that of a large-ish motorcycle.

Subarus have come a long ways. Now every time I visit Vermont, I’m struck by the staggering number of them—old and new—I see on the roads and streets.

I’m guessing Subarus, with their relatively small models and across-the-line four-wheel drive, resonate with not just practical needs—the snow, the mud, the rugged landscapes, the small-town and rural digs of many Vermonters—but also their values—love of the outdoors, respect for the environment, an appreciation of scale, responsible consumerism—and perhaps even, as touted in Subaru’s marketing, LOVE.

       The choice of a car is a statement, part 
       of the uniform we wear to show the world 
       our stripes.

THEY’RE MULTIPLYING!
Lately, I’ve been noticing a tremendous surge in the number of Subarus plying the streets of the Twin Cities (Minneapolis / St. Paul MN). I wondered if it was just my imagination—or perhaps a self-reinforcing result of my leaning toward a Subaru for my own next car.

So yesterday, while out walking, I conducted my own little survey. I postulated that, if my theory bore out, I’d spot—among the 45 or so vehicle brands sold in
the U.S.—at least four Subarus in the time it took me to walk the eight blocks
back home.

I saw seventeen. And this morning, of the 30 or so cars parked in my office building’s west lot, seven are Subarus.

I decided to check out my theory, and I find—at, of all places, iSeeCars.com—a
list of the ten states where Subarus are most popular. No surprise to me: Vermont is number one. But among the other nine, Minnesota is nowhere to be seen.
 
           Might folks be at least trying to make 
           a modest, sensible choice?

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
So what’s going on? Are Subarus even more popular than I thought in the rest of the country? Has the apparent Subaru boom here in the Twin Cities happened so recently that it simply hasn’t yet made the iSeeCars list?

Perhaps it’s just my neighborhood; like maybe we’re sort of the Vermont of Twin Cities communities. I’ll keep my eyes open as I wander around the rest of the metro, but I suspect the phenomenon is widespread.

My reasoning might best be explained in its own post here, but I’ll bet it has something to do not just with consumers’ needs and the effectiveness of Subaru’s marketing, but with the mood of the nation in this bizarre, post-reason period in
our history.

Given how difficult it is to function in this culture without a car, might more
and more folks, given the paucity of practical alternatives, be at least trying to
make a modest, sensible choice—one that lays claim, symbolically as much as functionally, to their values in the face of the most sweeping attack by an administration on wise environmental stewardship seen in our lifetime?

After all, the choice of a car says a lot about a person. It involves much more than
a practical convergence of needs and features. It’s a statement of personality and beliefs, part of the uniform we wear to show the world our stripes.

The hopeful yet misguided Trump base can have their rattletraps and pickups. And the new oligarchy they’ve chosen to lead them—the only true beneficiaries of this regime’s largesse—can have their Range Rovers, Escalades and stretch limos.

Me? I have more concern and more hope for my grandchildren's future than that...and I’m secure with my masculinity; I’ll take that wimpy little Subaru.