I was going to college in Connecticut and stopped at my brother’s in Otsego NY, near Oneonta, on the way home for Thanksgiving. We went hunting and he shot a buck. We contacted my father who knew a butcher closer to my hometown, about 150 miles away. My brother tagged the deer and we put it in my trunk, leaving it open enough to show the deer legs, as required by law. On the way to my father’s, I was pulled over by a “Conservation Officer” in Horseheads, NY. (yes, that’s a real town!) He checked my driver’s license, then asked to see the deer in the trunk. Upon inspection, he found the deer tag with my brother’s name on it. (My brother and I share the same last name). The “Officer” then informed me that if I was transporting the deer for someone, I needed a second tag allowing me to transport it. Otherwise, how would he know I didn’t steal the deer. I pointed out that the last name on my driver’s license matched my brother’s last name on the tag and I obviously didn’t steal the deer. I also pointed out that I like my brother and would not steal from him. But that didn’t help. (Neither did my shoulder-length hippy hair, but it WAS the 70’s). He would have to confiscate the deer or I could follow him up to Watkins Glen, about 40 miles north and out of the way, to see the Village Justice of the Peace. It was 11 PM by then, but since I do like my brother and I didn’t steal the deer, I decided to follow him to the “Glen”. When I got to the JP’s office, I placed a call to my brother, who backed up my story. But alas, they said “Nope. You have broken the law”, so if we wanted to keep the deer, we would have to pay a fine. Which we did. And that is the story of the fifty dollar deer. 11/6/23
