Around Thanksgiving last year something dawned on me. My family, though not necessarily a big hunting family, hunts. Have I been hunting? No. Shouldn't something be done to change that?
So I asked my grandfather to take me hunting over Christmas break. At first glance, yes, this may seem a tad bizarre, out of character, unexpected, what have you, but let's look a little closer. I like to sit still. I like to observe my surroundings. I like to go extended periods without talking. I like to be outside. I like to spend time with my grandpa. I like to shoot guns. I am not a bad shot. I collect experiences like I collect squished pennies and empty glass jars and writing utensils. It adds up, y'all!
Put simply, I've never done it and wanted to try it and so I did. We went out one afternoon with matching vests and hats, a freshly printed hunting license, a rifle, and adventurous spirits. We came back with a 9 point buck and some wicked adrenaline. After about two hours and two fun-sized packs of M&Ms in the stand, the poor booger moseyed into our field of view. After some knife work and a practical laboratory component to supplement my radiological anatomy class, he moseyed out of it in the back of the Tahoe. Y'all, I was on cloud nine - it was the most thrilling thing I've done in quite a while. And I have absolutely zero qualms about my first kill, so I'm not sure if that's something to worry about or just a testament to my ability to completely disconnect from reality, honed by years of suspending belief for novels, movies, shows, etc. Who knows?
From the field we took him to the processor, and from the processor my grandparents brought pieces of him to me in Atlanta! This past weekend was a lesson in venison, where I tried to soak up the tried and true methods and preparation. As a cook, it was fun to work with an unfamiliar ingredient. As a granddaughter, it was fun to work with and learn from my grandparents. As a hunter, it was fun to know that this was my deer, provided by me, and if I travel through the stones and end up at the little house on the frontier I will be somewhat prepared.
Just living that farm-to-table life.
I can't seem to comment on your "shake and bake" post. This will serve as a test of the commenting system as well as a normal comment.
ReplyDeleteI've been invited to go hunting a few times. I have proven my worth as a guest at the Trap and Skeet club. I have no principle objection to hunting as long as the hunter plans to eat his/her game. Since neither I nor my friends knows how to render meat, I've always declined.
But you have alerted me to something which I did not know existed - a "processor". If all we have to do is lightly prepare the animal for somebody else, then I am 100% on board for the next invite. That, and your clear, raw excitement make me really want to try my hand at the sport.
Furthermore, I think that your qualm-less state of mind is nothing by which to be bothered. Disconnection from reality is one of the things I feel drives human progress. The willingness and ability to dream and reach for the fantastical is the only genuine source of true, original thought.
In East Texas, you can find a deer and/or hog processor on every wind of a country road! To be clear, though, my grandfather is an experienced hunter and as such was able to guide me through field dressing the deer. I wouldn't advise going out without someone knowledgeable and familiar with that process in your party.
DeleteI'm sorry to hear about the commenting error - I've received other comments on that post, so I'm not sure what's up!