All summer long "Put deer stand in shed" has been on my to-do list. Using my normal super efficient methods, I ignored that item long enough that I saved myself the time-consuming hassle of writing "Put deer stand in woods" on my list this fall. I may have ignored a few other items on the list as well, but I'm not sure my efficiency model is going to work with "clean the gutters." I'll get back to you.
This is my fourth hunting season, and I'm beginning to find a routine.
Pulling the trigger on a deer is not something I take lightly. There's respect for the animal, of course, and still with a couple seasons under my belt some remorse over taking a life. But there is also the recognition that pulling the trigger is the easiest part of the whole enterprise. There's plenty of preparation beforehand, to be sure. But unless you're planning to haul the carcass to a processor the real work has only begun.
For those who may not know, here are the basic steps (or stop reading if you prefer to maintain the illusion that cellophane wrapped meat is created in the back of the grocery store).
First, there is taking some time to admire the beauty of the animal, to feel it's soft fur and yes, take a photo. Next is the dragging out of the woods, by hand truck or tractor, depending on size, where it fell and which is handy. Next comes the processing, and if I'm exceptionally lucky I can text a friend, a novice hunter who wants to learn more, and she will come to watch and keep me company and listen to the story of the hunt. The carcass is hung and skinned, and then the leg quarters cut off (I've yet to gut one which means I miss the tenderloin, supposedly the best cut, but ewww, guts). I do cut off the backstrap, a beautiful piece of meat that runs down the back. Once quarters and backstrap are in the cooler, there's the hauling of the remaining parts into the woods with a wheelbarrow. Yes, skinning a deer is a little gross, but also incredibly fascinating to see how its miraculous body is constructed (click here for a step-by-step pictorial). A bit of cleanup and then I can rest or head on to work, and hopefully I remembered to tell my boss I'd be a little late due to a flat tire. And by the time I get there I'll hopefully have a plausible reason that it took me four hours to change a tire.
In a day or three, I have to find time to take the meat off the bone, grind it and wrap it. My first year hunting I called a processor that a buddy recommended. I dropped off the quarters, ran a quick errand, and came back to find it wrapped and ready to go.
In my case, however, it's an hours long process, tedious and tiring, and Kate chides me for putting myself through such an ordeal. However, out of illusions of self-sufficiency, or perhaps sheer stubbornness, I ignore her wise advice (although let it be known for the record that I happily follow all the rest of the wisdom she generously imparts, as all husbands should).
The process, though, is rewarding, and the payoff lasts all year whenever we pull a pack of sausage from the freezer. I also find myself stricken by the beauty of the meat as I'm cutting and trimming it, the deep purplish burgundy color, the thickness and texture, the feel of it in your hands.
This year the hunt to fill the freezer was a short one, four short sessions. I saw deer each time, and on the third hunt I watched a small yearling nose around amongst the pine needles below my stand for 10 minutes. I admit I placed my finger on the trigger but elected not to pull. Had the season been late and my freezer still empty, I may have chosen otherwise.
I also have to admit that the young me, the one who played with G.I. Joes and watched Rambo, gets a small kick out of dressing in camo and walking into the woods with a gun. But really, it's just the young me. For the old mature me it's really no big deal. OK, I kinda like wearing the army pants with the cargo pockets. And the orange hat with the earflaps. And the big-ass camo boots that come up to the middle of your calf. But it's not like I carry a big survival knife or a "rucksack". Although.... Hang on a minute, need to check something on Amazon real quick.
Hunting aside I spend plenty of time in the woods, more than most and yet I could stand more. But hunting puts you there in a different way. You might never know the swooshing sound that the wings of a flock of birds make unless you were still and quiet on an early autumn day amongst the trees.
On my fourth hunt, a Wednesday morning in late-October, I startled a couple getting into the stand and was certain my chances were spoiled. But remarkably they stayed close by and I was able to get a shell in the chamber. I raised my gun and took aim but the shot wasn't clear and they spooked again. And again my hopes faded.
Nonetheless I remained in the stand, not wanting to accept the inevitable. And within five minutes they had returned, or perhaps a different pair strolled by. As you watch a deer, you try to predict which way it will walk, and I have a near perfect record of being wrong. The trend held but surprisingly one turned in my direction and walked straight toward my stand. I paused briefly, wanting to be sure it wasn't the yearling from before, and took the shot.
It was a doe, smallish but big enough to produce a pile of ground meat for chili soup, green bean casserole, and many more of my sweet wife's creations. I assure you, nothing tastes finer.
Sausage Seasoning Blend
2 tbsp Salt
1 tbsp Black pepper
2 tbsp Sage
1 tbsp Thyme
1 tbsp Cayenne pepper
1 tbsp Nutmeg
Use about 1/2 tbsp. seasoning blend per pound of meat. Add about 1/3 pound of pork sausage per 4 pounds of meat.
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