The Outsider: Being a bit dopey
|By Will Jones - The Outsider | November 23, 2017|
Doh! Or, rather Doe! I guess.
What a stench.
I was warned. “You only need a tiny amount to get those bucks going; it really stinks.” These were the wise words of Norm at Outdoors Plus. But, now, all he’d done was tempt me. Not waiting to be outside, in the fresh air, where a nasty niff or small spillage would not matter, I’d opened the small bottle of whitetail buck attractant and accidentally spilled a good slug of it on the carpet in my office. Holy moly did it stink, and stink a stink like no other. I gagged a couple of times and ran for cover, fingers squeezed tightly over nostrils: the only saving grace being that my office is a small room situated off the rear of the garage, and so from the house my lovely wife could not smell my mistake.
Otherwise known as #1 Doe-P, this foul smelling concoction is sold in hunting stores, and unless you are quite dopey you may already have guessed that it is made to smell just like doe pee. All I can say is that those lady deer sure do have stinky pee. And the bucks ... why any self-respecting male would want to venture within a mile of a woman that could create an aroma like that I do not know!
But you can’t smell it, can you? I, on the other hand, am now sitting in my office some six hours later, trying not to wretch as I pen this missive. The smell, while somewhat dissipated, still lingers rather heavily. And, as I sit submersed in it, I realize that the stench is something akin to one I’ve smelled before. And, now that know I’ve nailed down just where I’ve caught whiff of it previously, it is perhaps even more disgusting. You see, a few months ago, I was working on a renovation and found what I can only describe as a mouse graveyard. It was a hole in a wall into which many mice had been lured by some unknown aroma – maybe doe pee – and then fallen into a trap never to get out and slowly to die and rot. The putrid remains, which we had to shovel out, hummed terribly. Even with face masks clamped tightly on, we struggled to clear the vile rodent carnage and the smell of the death of a million mice has lingered with me, figuratively, until today when it was writ large upon my nasal passages once again.
Oh, how this smell makes me want to vomit. Oh, how I struggle to write to you at the moment. It is only the Vicks VapoRub that I have smeared under my nose that allows me to continue.
But more to the point, why does synthetic doe pee smell like a hundred rotting mouse carcasses? And, perhaps even more pressing is the matter of my mental stability. Why, oh why, am I torturing myself like this, all in the name of hunting deer? Is this a sign? An olfactory bolt from the blue, telling me that I am a fool to pursue such a noble but barbaric act, me being a stupid Englishman and all. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t, but my lovely wife has made it very clear that if my new buck attractant ever sets foot within the house I’ll never be able to hunt again for multiple reasons, at least one being that she’ll break every finger on my trigger hand!
WILL JONES - is The Outsider