Humberto Fontova

“You (Sarah Palin) enjoy killing animals. What you did is heart-stoppingly disgusting. If I were picked to be the one to kill an animal in some kind of Lottery-from-Hell, I wouldn't do a little dance of joy while I was slicing the animal apart.” (Aaron Sorkin in the Huffington Post reacting to Caribou hunt on the show Sarah Palin’s Alaska last Dec. 8th.)

Sarah Palin isn’t the only one who dances after a successful hunt. Deer season opened this month over much of the country. So some serious boogieing is underway by us hunters—everything from the Hustle and Bump to the Boot ‘Scootin Boogie and Cha-Cha-Cha!

Something flickers and my head jerks left. I tense up on my deerstand. My eyes focus. These are predator eyes, quick to spot movement. And they face forward, like the lion, leopard, falcon and wolf, the better to stalk and ambush prey. The eyes on deer, rabbit and caribou face from the side of their heads—to detect and evade approaching predators, like Sarah Palin.

My pulse rate jumps, my senses quicken and I'm jolted back into my primal role. The branch jerks again...again. Gotta be something big, I think. My pulse rate's really hammering now. Is that a flicking ear?...A black nose? ...The sun glints off something..YES!-- An ANTLER!!

A jolt of adrenaline whacks me. This was vital for my ancestors. It kick-started them when they spotted the Mastodon, and fueled them while running it down and pummeling it with rocks and sticks. I've got it easier. I just aim and pull the trigger. But tell it to my nervous system. It's still in the early Paleolithic era. I grab the rifle from the branch and peer through the scope...The crosshairs shake spastically, along with my hands, and shoulders, and knees. Now the doggone scope's fogging up from my gasps!..Can't see a doggone..! Here, wipe it. There, it's clear.....

But where's the deer?!.....He's walking off now! Now he's behind another bush!.

Don't tell me I blew it!...Did he wind me? No, don't think so. Wind's right and I'm a good 25 feet in this massive Sweetgum. Ah, there's his neck and chest, through an opening in the brush. That's his a**!....Deep breath now. Steady.....steady....brace the rifle against the tree. He'll be in that thicket with the next step. The crosshairs finally settle, smack on his neck. It's now or never....start sque-e-e-e-e-e-e….

PE — TOAAWW!!....The recoil almost knocks me outta the tree. I look through the scope again. He's down--DOWN!

My dance was more James Brown than Sarah Palin. “I FEEL GOOD!” Aaron Sorkin would have fainted at the sight.


Humberto Fontova

Humberto Fontova holds an M.A. in Latin American Studies from Tulane University and is the author of four books including his latest, The Longest Romance; The Mainstream Media and Fidel Castro. For more information and for video clips of his Television and college speaking appearances please visit www.hfontova.com.