You can thank Mark Henry for the title – seriously. So this past weekend is opening weekend. For those of you not familiar with me personally or are convinced I am a single classed geek, I have chosen several multiclass feats that add some depth to me. In short, I hunt deer every year I can make it out – seriously. Right now I have a copper hollow point bullet, 7.62 x 39 in the key pocket of my jeans. Everyone has their own weird little rituals and that one is mine. I even used it in last years Nano story. It was the last bullet soldiers were taught to keep in case they were bitten. It was the last bullet meant to de-zombify themselves.
I bet other than the key pocket part you are wondering what this has to do with Nano, aren’t you? Honestly, just that it takes place towards the end of November every year and is one of my obstacles that I have to work through.
I enjoy hunting. There is something about sitting in the woods with a loaded gun to the point of fuzzing out the edges of your brain followed by a short stint of adrenaline that made a junkie out of me. There is even a good meal at the end! So, in short, this is something I do not want to sacrifice for the good of Nano. I even get upset when my coworker causes me to have to miss most of the hunting season by taking the week of Thanksgiving off. (He also took off the week of Christmas and New Years as well.)
So I made sure that I was cleared to hunt the weekends. And this year the son was even coming with me. Basically in addition to wanting something non-gaming to do with my son, it is good to have help carrying the gear and dressing out the deer. Even with my strength returning, bending is not one of my strengths. (Which is my subtle way of saying, “Three Legged Elephant.”)
Towards the end of the weekend of picking on the sons (my friend brought his 14 year old son as well), a deer was seen. Which is to say a deer was seen when we were not driving home. That is an entire other story. And when I say a deer was seen, I mean a deer was shot. The only shot I have never taken (good, clean shot that is) was when I did not have the right tag. Like a beautiful side shot on a buck when I had a doe tag. My friend Dave has been hunting a lot longer, so his record of one bullet per deer is much more impressive than mine. (I have only had two clean shots in six years.)
My son was given a fine lesson in what it sounds like when a shot hits. Someone was unloading several boxes of ammo down at the rifle range on the DNR land we were hunting. The shots rang and echoed for a good amount of time. From behind us we heard a bang followed by a dull thump – no echo. I figured we would get a call on our cell that he got one. Didn’t take too long, “I got a doe down by the fire lane.” So off we went so he could see his first deer dressed out to figure out if it would make him sick or not.
On the way down we found another badger hole. Which made two so far this year. The first one was big enough I am considering loading the full 10 rounds in my gun and reattaching the damn bayonet. But the badger den phenomenon is – again – another story.
We get down there and see his doe. A smaller one, but not too bad. Even the small ones taste good. And he waited until we got there to dress it out. Which is why this story gets even more funny.
“Well the first thing we need is I need someone to help me by holding her rear legs. What you do is… well, would you look at that?”
“Uh, dude?” I could not help but laugh, “You doe has balls.”
He checks out the head again and sure enough there are nubs waiting to pop through. Still counts as a doe as far as the DNR is concerned, but really it was a yearling buck.
So I instruct my son to go hold the legs open for him so he can get a good look on how to dress out a deer. He steps over and opens up his legs and the deer’s last act before being dressed out was to let a fart loose on my son. I damn near busted out laughing it was so damned funny. “Well that’s new,” I said.
Surprisingly he did pretty well watching the cleaning out of the deer. It was not a pretty one either. The messiest I have seen Dave do pretty much ever. I even tried to push the envelope a bit with him to see how well he was really handling it. If you have seen it, there is a scene in Jennifer’s Body where she is leaning over a guy she just killed and is cupping her hands into his chest cavity and then slurping from them like she is drinking from a river. When you are standing over a deer being dressed out, you get to see what they weren’t showing you – her slurping up chest cavity soup.
For the record, I did not tell my wife why I was laughing during that scene. The boy, on the other hand, he told her as soon as we got back. Some days I don’t know about that kid.
End result. One deer harvested. Likely looking for two more at least between the two families. Dave’s son looks either like Gilligan with a squash’s body or the Crocodile Hunter’s idiot love child. (Depends on the position of the hat, and yes there are pictures.) My son looked like a blaze orange condom complete with a reservoir tip. (Sadly no photos of that one.)
And the final state from the weekend is that I am behind on my word count again. I guess I know what I am doing tonight.