'I think people are stressed out about the economy and just want to go out and shoot something."

So said Lee Lightsey of Outwest Farms in Okeechobee, Fla., who pretty much summed up the sentiments at this year's Eastern Sports and Outdoor Show, one of the biggest -- and best -- hunting and fishing expos in the U.S.

If there's a sharp downturn in the U.S. economy, it wasn't evident here when the show opened (it ran Feb. 7-15). Traffic was backed up and long lines snaked around the 25-acre, eight-building State Farm Show Complex. According to show organizer Ed Several of Reed Exhibitions, advance ticket sales were about equal to last year, while they were down 4% at his PGA Merchandise Show in Orlando.

This was Tuesday night, and the Twin Cities park in which I was hiding was closed.

Peering through a night-vision scope, I shouldered a 12-gauge shotgun with a 7-foot-long barrel.

In the scope, amid the darkness, I saw a pile of corn about 20 paces distant. The corn was bait I hoped would lure deer close enough to shoot.

A swirling, bone-chilling wind wound through the thick stand of trees surrounding me.

If a deer did appear, I would target him -- or her -- just behind a shoulder, hoping to drop the animal in its tracks.

No one would be the wiser. Not neighbors nearby. Not interloping park visitors, if there were any.

The reason?

When triggered, the gun I used was virtually silent.

• • •

Welcome to Twin Cities deer culling, circa 2009.

Little known to Minneapolis and St. Paul residents, and those of surrounding suburbs, when the sun goes down, the guns in many communities come out.

Not all belong to gangs. Or police.

Some are wielded by sharpshooters employed by cities, park districts and various regulatory authorities, such as the Metropolitan Airports Commission.

Professional contract deer killers also are sometimes hired.

The intent is to reduce the metro's overpopulation of whitetails.