Laura Berman

Not much hunting (or sense) in this hunting break

You brake for deer. They take a break to hunt them.

Every year, the Michigan Legislature adjourns in November, first picking up shotguns from the Capitol gun vault, and then heading for the woods.

The deer-hunting break is a tradition that harkens back to the frontier days, when legislators needed the time to hunt and put venison on the table, sustaining their families through the harsh Michigan winter.

"Not really," says Bill Ballenger, the Lansing political analyst who was a Republican legislator in the late 1960s. "It goes back to about 1965."

Also, there is no Capitol gun vault. And plenty of the state's 1.6 million deer aren't tucked away in the forests: they're your urban neighbors, munching on your perennials or trying to decide whether to jaywalk or cross at the light.

Then there's the length of the break -- a full 18 days, five days longer than last year. The recess began last Friday, although the official season doesn't start until Thursday.

It's a marvel, the deer-hunting break, touted as a way to honor the huge financial impact of deer hunting in Michigan. Even if $500 million is spent in hotels, bars and restaurants, the impact of 148 legislators with shotguns and six packs is likely to reverberate in ways that have little to do with economic impact.

Skip ammo, buy a U.S. car

My clever colleagues, Charlie Cain and Mark Hornbeck, checked up on the "hunting" and reported that only nine of the 148 legislators had applied for hunting license by last week, and 20 applied for them last year, according to Department of Natural Resources records.

How much money can 10, or even 20, guys spend in the woods? Besides, if emptying the Capitol creates an economic boon, shouldn't legislators skip the ammo and beer and just buy American cars in November?

Even Michigan historian Charles Hyde didn't realize there was a hunting break until last week. Maybe that's because until now, the recess struck many as a harmless tradition, rather than an outrage.

Some will be busy in city

Some nonhunting legislators say the break -- whatever it's called -- is all about work. Sen. Gilda Jacobs, D-Huntington Woods, ticked off an exhausting 7 a.m. to 9 p.m. schedule. And Rep. Rebekah Warren, D-Ann Arbor, made the case that "many of us haven't seen our partners or families for months."

They're using the time to meet with constituents, hold town hall meetings, and catch up on their lives.

Even so, the once-benign tradition of taking an extended recess for hunting and Thanksgiving is a particular affront to voters this year, when the state's in crisis, and the Legislature has yet to resolve it.

Lana Pollack, the former state senator who now heads the Michigan Environmental Council, points to the "level of incompetence by people in office." Ballenger notes "they've been so inept you almost cheer when they take a break."

So let's cheer, even as we denounce the hunting break as a sham. Why not devise a new, more universally appealing recess that will pour dollars into the state's coffers? I'm thinking "spa break."