Disclaimer: Never did I think I would put a disclaimer on my blog, I refuse to censor myself, however in this case it is necessary. Candice is a deer…a now dead deer thanks to my stud muffin hunter Hubby. And below is a picture of her, on the buck pole, gutted. So if you have a weak stomach, or don’t appreciate the sport of hunting, skip today’s post and come back tomorrow…for the Adventures of Sugar Sunnysparkle or some other witty blog post. Thank you. (And I got the idea for this disclaimer idea from Sissy. I heed your warning that some people might take offense to seeing a carcass.)
Hubby is deer hunting. Here in Michigan, rifle season opens on November 15th and lasts for 2 weeks. He usually goes up to the cabin 2 days before opening day and stays for 10 days. I get a lot of looks from people who aren’t married to hunters. “10 days, you let him go for 10 days?” First off, I don’t *let* him do anything. Secondly, I met Hubby when he was 29. He started hunting at 5 with his dad. Do the math, hunting came LONG before I did. I knew what the scoop was when were started dating. It doesn’t bother me.
That said, the past couple years have really been hit or miss with even seeing deer. Apparently they have all migrated south so that they can play chicken with the cars as they run across I-75. 2 years ago he got a deer. Whom we named Bob. And last year, he saw NOTHING. Not a single solitary deer. But once again, Friday night, he loaded up, full of hope…full of anticipation…
Fast forward to Sunday morning. We are getting ready to leave for church and my phone rings. At 10 in the morning.
Me: “Hi. What are you doing calling me? Aren’t you supposed to be freezing your ass off in a tree?”
Hubby: “I shot a doe this morning.” (Yes, it was a doe. Please spare the Bambi comments, ok? I’ll bet the hunter who shot Bambi’s mom only did it for sport. We are going to use this doe for food…)
Me: “No way. You did not.”
Hubby: “Did too.”
Me: “Did not…” well you see where this is going. But then he sent me a picture. Via iPhone. (It wasn’t long ago that we couldn’t even get cell service at the cabin and Hubby would have to drive to a pay phone to call me…oh the wonders of technology.)
Doesn’t he look proud? With his deer in the tree and a beer in his hand. At 10 in the morning? Go Hubby!
Avery gets it, that Daddy might bring home a deer and that we will have deer sausage (I’m not a fan of venison but the summer sausage ROCKS). I showed her this picture and she looked at me in all seriousness and asked:
“Is that how Daddy caught the deer? In a tree?”
God bless the innocence of a 4 1/2 year old.
And next up, the hunt for Walter. The big buck. With the big rack. He’s determined to get him too.
And if you think this post is un-PC, wait until I tell you about Avery’s fur coat.