Chapter 1: The Autumn Hunt and Its Intriguing Lessons

In the fall, many individuals in New England don camouflage and forgo scented products like soaps and deodorants. They wake up early to ascend trees armed with rifles or bows, hoping to catch a deer.

I don’t participate in this activity myself, but having grown up among hunters, I understand their passion. While I'm uncomfortable with concealed firearms in public spaces, hunting rifles don’t bother me as much. It might seem irrational, but if someone is willing to endure cold, solitude, and the scent of the woods for hours, all for the chance to provide for their family, I find it somewhat justifiable.

Feel free to react with shock; I know many people oppose hunting altogether. It's not that I condone animal killing, but I can only focus my energy on so many issues.

I received my first set of deer lungs about five years ago from a student in my high school biology class. She entered my classroom, setting a red Igloo cooler on my desk, her face straight as she feigned indifference about what was inside. Upon opening it, I discovered a shiny pink and white mass nestled in a plastic grocery bag.

Though I pretended to be surprised, she had actually sent me a photo of them earlier that weekend, inquiring if I wanted her to bring them to class. We were studying the circulatory system, and her father had just hunted a deer. They connected the dots and decided I could incorporate the lungs into my lesson plan for the week.

Lungs are fascinating organs. Most people are aware of their existence and have a general understanding of their function, yet few have ever had the opportunity to see or touch one aside from their own.

While we are familiar with muscle tissue as meat, bones as dog chews, and even the insides of intestines from sausages, lungs remain a mystery for many.

When Sarah handed me the cooler, I instinctively knew how to utilize this unexpected resource. I abandoned my planned lesson and retrieved an old brown plastic lunch tray. After rinsing the lungs briefly, I placed them on the tray.

Initially hesitant, my students gradually became bolder, poking and prodding at the organs. I then found a thick plastic smoothie straw and a zip tie, inserting the straw into the bronchi—the airway leading from the trachea to the lung tissue—and secured it tightly.

It felt appropriate to ask Sarah if she wanted to blow into the straw.

In moments like this, I mentally calculate how my students will react. If the gross-out factor outweighs their curiosity, they’ll disengage. However, if curiosity prevails, I can engage them in nearly any activity.

So there we were, textbooks disregarded, desks pushed together, observing a collection of deer tissue with a straw inserted. Gross? Yes. What would Sarah do?

What would you have done?

If she had refused and complained, I likely wouldn’t be sharing this story. Instead, she took a deep breath and blew into the straw.

Air from her lungs rushed into the deer’s lung, causing it to expand, glistening and taut. Though we knew it was lifeless tissue, it appeared vibrant and alive, quivering as Sarah hesitated at the straw's tip.

Seeing my class captivated and silent was a victory. Teaching can be challenging, and many days leave you feeling defeated. But those rare moments of quiet engagement remind you why you teach.

I once heard Chip Heath discuss his book, The Power of Moments, where he shared a story about a shabby hotel with a quirky “popsicle phone.” Despite its shortcomings, guests cherished the experience of ordering popsicles with a simple phone call.

While I haven’t read the book, I grasped his point: memorable moments often overshadow countless average experiences. However, not every moment can be extraordinary; you can’t simply fill life with popsicle phones and expect perpetual joy.

Returning to Sarah, I instructed her to release the air. We watched the lungs deflate into their original shapeless form, stale air wafting through the classroom. It was pre-Covid, so several classmates took turns inflating the lung until one applied too much pressure, causing a leak.

The moment ended, and students filed out of the room.

I could write endless notes or assign hours of online learning, but nothing compares to the experience of breathing into a lung. Who could forget such an event? While a deer isn't a human, a lung remains a lung.

Thus, each fall, I reach out to my hunting acquaintances: "If you bag a deer, may I have the lungs?"

I can easily order various specimens online—like a preserved cat for seventy bucks or a non-pregnant cow uterus for slightly less. I recall a science supply catalog that once advertised turkey testicles for dissection at an absurdly low price. Early in my teaching career, I thought, "So this is what I signed up for."

Yet, fresh deer lungs aren’t available online, nor can I find them in the wild (yes, I’ve tried).

You might think that given my charm, hunters would be eager to drop off deer lungs at my Subaru. However, they usually aim for the chest to preserve the more desirable meat, leaving the entrails—lungs included—in the woods for wildlife.

And so, I wait.

This past weekend, I had a near miss. One student emailed me, saying his father had shot a deer. He wrote, “This may seem odd, but I know it’s you, so it’s not. Would you like the heart from the deer my dad just shot?”

No lungs, just a heart. The bullet had ruined the lungs.

Tomorrow, I’ll return to school. A pandemic rages, with half my class home due to Covid. The climate crisis looms, and everyone is at odds.

I have anatomy coloring sheets ready and a reliable YouTube playlist on standby. I can discuss the tricuspid and mitral valves for hours if necessary, but if given the chance, I’d toss all that aside in an instant.

Would you prefer to write “Intraventricular Septum” and discuss it for ten minutes, or use a syringe to inject fake blood into a recently deceased deer heart and see how far it squirts when simulating a CPR-like heartbeat?

I know my preference.

Tomorrow holds possibilities; perhaps a memorable moment, or just another 55 minutes of forgettable lecturing.

I just need to ensure I can find my gallon jug of leftover blood for occasions like this.

Thank you for reading. I never intended to focus predominantly on dead animals and body parts, but here we are. If you enjoy this blend of lightheartedness with dark subjects, you might also appreciate these reads:

How A Chicken Turned My Mother Into a Secret Democrat In Memory of Natalie Portman the Chicken, a Rooster

How to Have a Funeral for One Scissors, Tape, and the twisted path to having a great day.

There Is A Small Bone In The Center Of Your Heart Most people have never even heard of it.

Chapter 2: The Unique Learning Opportunity

In this video, "Double Lung or Single Lung? Here's What to Look for and What to do Next While Deer Hunting," viewers will learn how to identify lung shots in deer hunting and what steps to take following a successful hunt.

The second video, "Deer Hunting Shot Placement: See a Whitetail Deer's Heart, Lungs and Liver," offers a visual guide on the anatomy of deer and the best practices for shot placement to ensure an ethical hunt.