‘When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.’

I’ve never thought much of that adage.

It’s not the sentiment that bothers me, but the vilification of the lemon; it equates them with a terrible life trauma when they actually have a lot to offer.

Off the top of my head favourable traits include: zesty rinds, tangy juices, fibrous pulp and a pleasingly bright colour.

On the other hand, I was trying to think of something nice to say about our local deer and the closest I came was: they’re good at startling me and my dog.

Besides, suckin’ on deer hide never staved no scurvy.

With that in mind, I’d like to offer a more fitting platitude: when life gives you deer, make venison.

And since life has given us plenty of deer, there are bright days ahead.

Much has been made of the urban ungulate problems currently being faced in the Greater Wycliffe region, but it’s helpful to think of it as a problertunity.

What if, instead of communities overrun with mean-spirited mulies and wicked whitetails, we saw them as a source of delicious snack food and a viable means of fundraising for cash-strapped non-profit sports clubs?

Not only that, but value-added products (like fancy hats and sausages) could provide some of those meaningful jobs the Harmonized Sales Tax is bound to usher in any day now.

In my vision, the bulk of the venison will be turned into delicious jerkies and billtongs. There is no shortage of local expertise to be tapped there — just visit the Cranbrook Farmer’s Market any given Saturday (I would recommend getting there by September, though).

The treat meat, in turn, could be peddled with a portion of proceeds going to sports groups, letting them buy new tackling dummies or hockey sticks, or cover travel and hotel costs. Local families and athletic organizations face many such economic hurdles (known as ‘lemons’ to organo-fascists).

If you don’t think the venison jerky scheme would fly, consider the success of the Kimberley Dynamiters’ turkey pie sales. The junior B club is putting the proceeds towards R&D for a hover bus for its transportation needs (I heard that because I said it aloud to myself just now).

Culling the deer could also fall under the auspices of the local sporting scene. We have some top-notch shooters in the area.

If you gotten thus far in the column and have chosen now to be incredulous at the thought of sanctioning riflery within the city, I’ve got it covered.

The Bull River Shooters can knock down a tiny ram silhouette from 200 metres away; I don’t think a full-grown deer 10 feet yonder will be a stretch of their skills.

But just to be on the safe side, we’ll only undertake the hunt on Waterless Wednesdays. I know my fear of the deer keeps me indoors and away from windows when I’m not adjusting the sprinkler.

So let’s review the number of birds we can strike with just this one stone: fewer and politer deer staying off the roads and attacking neither human nor canine nor garden; more funds for local sports; more jobs; easier access to fringed leather jackets.

If this works out, I’ve got some great ideas for selling skunk soup.