Deer Season-- in Retrospect

I quote myself from my weblog:

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

Deer Season
It all seems to come on so quickly. There is a first whiff of Fall, the Harvest Moon rises, and then ZAP! I’m in the middle of deer season and my life is filled with last-minute shopping, running loads of hunting clothes through the washer, juggling acts in the dimensions of time, space and the vagaries of stand choice.

Before two months are out, it will all be over. The freezers will be filled, the checking account drained. The unmarked van of reality will pull up and dump me off outside a shopping mall, as I suddenly realize I’m behind on my Christmas shopping, and I still have half a dozen firearms to finish cleaning and put a way. All I’ll have to show for myself is a couple empty slots in my quiver, a few pieces of spent brass, and business card and a claim ticket from the taxidermist.

. . .and that’s if everything goes right.




Let's see if I got this right:

It's December 6.

Two months have passed since I made that prediction. Deer season is nearly over for me. The freezer is so full, little white packages of dead deer leap out of it everytime I open the door. The checking account is drained. I'm behind on my Christmas shopping, and I have easily a half-dozen firearms to finish cleaning.

I have one empty slot in my quivver-- I tried a shot at a squirrel just before dark on Halloween weekend. It's been 20 years since I made that mistake, but he looked so meaty and I was soooo bored and . . oh well. I knew you'd understand.

The empty brass is being cleaned. I usually reload my 30 cal rifle loads in late Winter. The last of the early-season hunting clothes are bagged, and I've got one more load of stuff to run through the washer, but I'll wait until after late youth season.

I still have the business card of a good taxidermist in Lennoxburg, but I didn't need him this year.

It was sort of an off year-- the big bucks never showed during rifle season. My guess is that it was because the red oaks were taking the year off. We just didn't have the mast to lure the bruisers up to the top of the ridge. I caught a glimpse of a huge one right around Halloween, but he never got closer than 70 yards.

Mooseboy got his cherry popped-- a nice doe. I knocked over a huge one with my smokepole. We had bits of both over the weekend-- Jamaican Jerked Deer Kabobs and some Cracked Black Venison, and some awesome leftover stew that Girlfriend fixed earlier in the week.

I hope all of you cervid serial killers have had your bloodlust sated at least to the level of mine. I gotta run; Amazon.com just came back on line, and I've got a big order to finish.