Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, October 10, 1993 TAG: 9310080004
SECTION: CURRENT PAGE: NRV-2 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
SOURCE: STEVE KARK
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
Snuffing through leaves and poking her snoot down groundhog holes, she spends a great deal of time in the woods around the house. She likes digging with a vengeance, too, when she smells something. So I can see how she might attract attention.
Still, you should be able to tell it's her. No bigger than knee-high to an average person, she's a whole lot smaller than a deer. Her tail's skinnier too. And there's no white patch underneath, just brown dog hair.
It shouldn't be hard to see the differences between the two. Unlike any deer I've ever seen, she has a fondness for rubber balls and squeak toys - even at her age.
Admittedly, she shares a taste for blackberries with the deer and will eat them from the bush with only a little coaxing. But she draws the line at eating twigs and acorns. That, of course, would be too undignified for any self-respecting retriever.
She usually sticks pretty close to the house, but has taken to wandering a bit lately. Sometimes I'll look out the window and spot a tip of brown tail disappearing into the blackberry bushes. But before I can call her, she's gone.
I can't really blame her though. She comes back - nose muddied and burdock stickers hanging from her ears - in a state of such tail-wagging excitement it would be hard to deny her the fun.
I know it seems a little silly, but I worry about leaving her outside as hunting season approaches. Wandering into the woods this time of year can be like entering a war zone.
I'm not exaggerating, and I'm certain any resident of the more rural areas of the New River Valley would agree. It took us a while to get used to all the gunfire when we first moved out this way.
I can remember one afternoon in particular. There had been sporadic gunfire coming from the surrounding hillsides all day. As the day, and hopefully, the shooting, was drawing to an end, I clearly heard an automatic weapon being fired one valley over. Were they such bad shots that they were machine-gunning the poor deer? I shuddered to imagine.
I follow all the accounts of each year's shooting accidents. I watch the paper, and sooner or later the articles appear: Someone shoots a horse out from under its rider, or another mistakes his nephew for a turkey.
I know my neighbors are concerned as well. I've seen a slew of brand new "No Trespassing" signs pop up throughout the valley. Several told me about damage to their fences, knocked down by people hunting on posted land.
My closest neighbor told me about the time someone cut through his fence rather than lifting a deer over it.
It all seems a damn shame to me because I know there are a lot of responsible hunters out there. If they hunt on someone else's land, they ask permission first. And they fire only after they're darn sure what they're shooting at.
The folks out here in the hollow are on the lookout. Around this time of year our little road seems to get about as busy as Main Street on a Saturday night.
Three-abreast in the cabs of their pickup trucks, the hunters peer intently up into our woods. And it certainly isn't dancing partners they're looking for.
With so many deer in so much national forest, I can't understand why people choose to hunt on posted land.
But if you must, and a fine doesn't scare you, please don't tear down the fences.
And please don't shoot my dog.
Steve Kark is an instructor at Virginia Tech and a correspondent for the Roanoke Times & World-News. He writes from his home in scenic Rye Hollow, in a remote part of Giles County south of Pearisburg.
by CNB