A Hunting He Did Go...

WARNING: The following posted photos are rated PG-13 for blood and some nudity. View at your own discretion.

Okay, Neil's been a hunter pretty much since he was strong enough to carry a rifle. When we lived in Arizona, his dream was to hunt javelina, but he never got the chance. I know what you're thinking. "Poor, poor man...". He has proudly hung an antelope head on our bedroom wall (not in the living room like he wished), and I certainly wasn't pushing him out the door to search for a javelina to accompany it, so I wasn't too sad for him. When we moved back to Idaho, he told me I would love the seasons, and that Fall is the best season of all. It's his favorite. I now fully understand why. For those of you who are as clueless as I was when I first moved here, it's because Fall is hunting season. So, last year at this time, he really wanted to get a deer. He's not a sport hunter (except for antelope and javelina, I guess). He usually hunts for meat, and he really wanted to stock our freezer with a nice mule deer last year. He didn't know this area very well, and didn't know where the best hunting spots were, so some evenings we would go spotting. We would load up his rifle and the girls in the car after he got off work, drive out on the dirt roads, and let the bumps lull the girls to sleep while I, with shaky binoculars and two perfectly un-keen eyes, would hang out the passenger window, and just kind of sight-see, more than anything. Neil, in the meantime, would look out his side window with one eye while he somehow managed to keep the other on the winding road ahead, hoping to spot an unlucky buck, which he would've just jumped out and shot. Thankfully for me (and the sleeping girls), he never got that lucky while we were there. If any deer were spotted, Neil was the one who found them, then he would guide my eyes to where they were, miles away in the trees (confessions of a city girl: Half the time I had no idea what he was even pointing at. Those suckers blend right in to the hills! I gave up on the binoculars. They did no good. They just gave me a headache). So, one weekend he finally decided to try hunting back in Soda Springs, his old stomping grounds, where he knew he would find something. And he came home with a nice little 2-point buck (nothing worth mounting next to the antelope, but "better" meat than the huge, prize-winning deer that trophy hunters like to find). I'll tell you, I was proud of him, because he had wanted to get one so bad, but when I looked at that little muley for the first time in the back of the truck, all I could think was, "That's it?! Is there even any meat on that thing?" It was about the size of our boxer- on stilts. After it hung in the garage for a few days, tempting our dog unmercilessly, he and his friend Jared cut it all up, packaged it, and tossed it into the freezer. And that's where it stayed for a very long time. Until Jared and Marci had us over for a roast dinner one night, and it was a super good, very lean roast. I finally figured out that it was deer meat (another confession: I like meat, but I can't tell what it is all the time). I figured, "I can do that!" So I tried it with our deer at home. My roast wasn't half as good as Marci's. It definitely tasted like deer. Then I decided to try jerky. I found a recipe and marinated all of it good and long, but still it tasted a little gamey. Good thing Neil liked it okay. It went with him to work every day until it didn't come home anymore. Whether he ate it all, pawned it off on co-workers, or threw it away, I'll never know- or care. So, what do I do with the rest of the meat? Try, try again, I guess.
Well, this year when the leaves started to change, I knew what to expect. Neil went out and bought a tag again. Last weekend he went hunting with his boss and some other guys he knows from work, and although two of those guys got a deer, Neil came home empty-handed. Then on Monday, his boss, who happens to be more of a hunting fanatic than Neil, declared the day a "mandatory" hunting day, so he could find himself an elk on the first day of elk season. Neil jumped at the opportunity to take the full day for his own deer hunt. I told him I didn't know what we would do with another deer in the freezer. I think that offended him a little. So I explained. "I don't really like deer meat. I've tried elk, and it's much better. Sure wish you wanted an elk instead of a deer. Why didn't we turn that deer meat into hamburger? It would probably taste better as hamburger. Maybe this time we can try that..." Probably annoyed by my lack of interest (or taste), he left before dawn, so that he could get out to his preplanned spot (which he wouldn't tell me- as if I would give it away to another hunter) right when the sun got up. At lunchtime I called his parent's house to see if he had made it out to Soda again. His mom answered. I asked her if Neil had gotten anything. She told me, "He sure did." I clarified, "He got a deer?" a little surprised at how quickly he found one this year. She answered, "Well, no..." So I asked what she meant. She asked, "Do you really want to hear the story?" Uh, yeah. She told me that he ended up getting an elk instead. She said a bull elk walked out in front of him a few hundred yards away. It just kept hanging around, and then walked into perfect view. He shot him before he even knew what hit him. Wade helped him haul it out and back home. This time when he got home and I looked into the back of the truck, all I could think was, "Dang! This is a lot bigger!" It was just a little "spike", about as old as the deer he shot last year, but there was definitely meat on this one, I could tell. It's like a dieting horse. Wade and their friend Jared helped him skin it and hang it up in the garage. It took all of us to hoist it up high enough. Our poor dog now drools more than any normal boxer. I'm more excited about this year's hunt, and I'll have to start trying out new recipes a little sooner this time, so when next year comes around, we'll have enough room in the freezer for more!

The Lord's Hand in My Life:
I worry every time Neil goes out hunting, after hearing stories of unfortunate hunters who get hurt or killed accidentally while they're out. But He heard my prayers and kept Neil safe. I'm grateful for that.