I admit that I am not an "outdoorsman" in the classic sense. I love hiking and camping but I'm not much of a fisherman and I have no stomach for hunting. Since I eat hamburgers I suppose that makes me a hypocrite but I am open to that charge on so many fronts that denial in this arena is futile.

I realize the very heritage of this country, especially its pioneering aspects, depended upon "the hunt". I can even appreciate the fact that, for some, hunting embraces the true spirit of independence and self-reliance.

But I have trouble reconciling that with a mail order commercial I ran into recently while flipping the channels past an "outdoor adventure" hunting show. It was for something called the "Tree Lounge".

This 21st Century wonder is a glorified folding chair that allows the hunter to shimmy up a tree, clamp his "tree lounge" to its trunk, and wait in hammock-like comfort while the unsuspecting deer, bear or chipmunk wanders underneath in a brazen attempt to munch berries, nuts or meadow grass.

The camera mounted over the hunter's shoulder down the length of his barrel gave us his thrilling view of the "kill".

There the hunter sat, his $1000 high powered rifle with the infrared, $2000 scope cradled in his lap. An elk the size of a small school bus came a-roaming under the wrong tree. The hunter deftly raised the rifle and pointed it at the animal as it tried to pass not 15 feet under him. Judging from that point of view the hunter could have discarded the scope, held the rifle with boxing gloves, pulled the trigger with his teeth and still be unable to hit anything but elk. He'd have stood a better chance of missing his nose with a tennis racket held in both hands.

After the trigger was pulled and the portly hunter had disengaged himself from his perch, a self congratulatory victory dance was
held around the offending moose whose last thoughts no doubt reflected upon the inordinate size of the squirrel in the tree with the dayglo orange pelt.

As I said at the outset, I know there are people who enjoy the rich legacy of hunting game in the wild. I don't mean to pass judgment on the concept of recreational hunting. But I think that somewhere a line needs to be drawn with regard to exactly how much technology and how many labor saving devices should be brought to bear upon t he manly art of killing animals with big, brown eyes.

Tracking game across the countryside requires stamina and determination and a demonstration of the time-honored skills of the hunter. Lounging in a tree with a cold six pack waiting for a point blank kill requires the same skills I demonstrate during my nightly couch potato rituals and I don't need a license to point the clicker and switch off Jerry Springer, a critter I find much more offensive than any found in the forest.