I've been through neighborhoods where I've feared getting shot, but I never thought that neighborhood would be my own.
A few days after Christmas, sharpshooters hired by the city of Town & Country began the methodical killing of deer, citing the need to thin the animal's population to reduce the number of collisions and eaten hostas. City officials voted to spend $130,000 dollars of public money to fund the shootings, despite majority opposition from residents.
Days after the shooting began, a candlelight vigil was held to show solidarity and to protest the city's actions. But this wasn't the first time people have spoken out. For years, neighborhoods have sported yard signs opposing the killing. I've even seen a few bumper stickers related to the issue.
The committed opposition — who, according to a 2008 poll, account for 67 percent of Town & Country residents — has been vilified as a rabble of out-of-touch suburbanites masquerading as "hippies" or "tree-huggers."
Ever since deer culling became a primary issue in the mid-90s, politics have succeeded in pitting neighbors against each other, using harsh rhetoric to associate people with extreme ends of the spectrum.
2012 is shaping up to be no different.
As a self-proclaimed "tree-hugger," I find it funny, maybe even offensive, that citizens concerned with public safety and misappropriation of government funds are being labeled with terms typically reserved for Greenpeace members chained to redwoods. This isn't an issue between carnivores and vegetarians or conservatives and liberals. It's an issue of civic stability.
The 60 residents in attendance at December's vigil weren't braving the cold to ensure Bambi's posterity. They represented the voice of the majority which, in this case, is being deliberately ignored. Nobody denies that a solution is needed to fix the deer problem. The concern lies with the fact that guns are the agent of fixing.
Homeowners are concerned that only lines of trees might separate their yards from hunting zones, and they're even more upset about the city's constant attempts to downplay the situation. The hired sharpshooters are permitted to fire from the beds of pickup trucks, a practice that doesn't sit well with residents.
Moreover, legitimate concerns about the safety of the killing process are consistently answered by unreasonable responses. Proponents of the process maintain that the shooters are "professionals," hoping that the public accepts that professionalism holds no margin for human error. News feeds of recent years have seen a host of headlines dedicated to hunting mishaps, and most of them have endings more tragic than Dick Cheney's.
This town and its imbedded country share a complicated relationship. I've even gotten used to having my hometown known as "the place with the deer."
Even with the recent and impending hunting sprees, it's clear that we're looking at a long-term, internal struggle. I just want those reading to remember: even though the majority of Town & Country may oppose the sharpshooting of deer, the majority of Town and Country isn't a gaggle of militant vegans. But just between us, I kind of wish it was.
Charles Unger, of Town and Country, is a student. He is a vegetarian, who loves poetry and writing for his best friend, Bekah.
