Last deer season, DH and I took the opportunity to spend some alone time together. In a deer stand. Thirty feet in the air. Freezing our collective dangly parts off.
I packed a backpack. My survival bag. Everything I thought I would possibly need for a four-hour excursion in the wilds of Twiggs Co, Ga. Two books (FOUR HOURS PEOPLE, I get bored), three fuzzy, fleece blankets (FREEZING!), two pillows (have to be able to prop up the books and those chairs are hard), and a little camp stove propane thingy powered heater. Oh and a camera. You NEVER go hunting without a camera!
Beforehand though, I was in my bathroom primping and beautifying myself. Elder Child says, 'What are you doing? You are going hunting!' My response, 'I am quite aware of this darling child but if I actually shoot something, there will be pictures and I must be pretty for pictures!' Elder Child isn't much of a primper so she rolled her eyes and left. Middle Child TOTALLY gets me, she just grinned. ( I love her best!)
Okay . . .back to our regularly scheduled program. DH and I are sitting in this atrociously high deer stand when he bumps me, quietly, to get my attention from the steaming hot sex manu . .er, novel I'm reading.
"What?" I mouth. (You're not allowed to talk)
He points to the area below us.
Moving, ever so slowly, her bed bobbing up and down as she fed and watched for danger, a doe moved from the wood line.
"Awwwweee." I say. For which a I receive a sharp look from DH. I've either been too loud or have offended his male pride. This is food, woman. Ug. You know. Alpha, cave man type stuff.
We watch this pretty little thing as she ambles up closer and closer. Keep in mind now, that I do have a gun. I haven't shot one in 10 plus years, but I do know HOW. DH gets excited.
"Lift your gun slowly." he whispers.
"HUH?" Sharp, cutting motion and a finger over his lips. Gently, he takes my hands and raises them, and the gun, to the shooting window.
"Oh!" quiet giggle.
In perfect mime movements, he tells me what I'm to do.
We sit, quietly, for hours(okay, not really) waiting for this doe to come close enough to shoot. Finally, taking a deep, deep breath, I switch off the safety, take another deep breath and hold, and hold, and hold it and . . .Perkirrrrshhhh. (that's the sound a bullet makes leaving a rifle. For you undeducated folk.)
Yep. I shot her. She went down. Several yards back into the woodline, but she went down.
I couldn't BREATHE! I was so excited! I had just killed my first deer!
The rule of thumb in hunting is that you never, ever get immediately down after a shot. You have to wait to give the animal time to completely die so that you don't have to Rambo it. You know, the whole wrestle it to the ground and cut it's throat thing. Anyway . . .
We sit and we sit and we sit. It's almost dark at this point. I can't see the words on my book anymore and the excitement from my kill has worn off and my dangly parts are completely frozen and I'm wondering if sensation will ever return.
DH and I are discussing the merits of getting down and tracking the deer when out steps a buck. He's not a monster Booney (Boone and Crocket is a scoring system for large antlered mamals) or anything, but for me, he's pretty cool AND he's the same one we have been getting pictures of from the trail camera.
DH looks at me. I know he's wondering if I want to shoot it. Why not, I think. In for a penny, in for a pound.
I slowly raise the gun to the shooting window, indicating that I want to shoot. I watch and I watch and I watch. Finally, when there's barely enough light left to see I pull the trigger and he goes down. Right where he stood. Yay me!
So, in one afternoon, in one fell swoop, I have managed to bag two deer. A doe and a buck. The buck scored a 117 in the B&C scoring system. No, it's not big. A 150 is big and the stuff of wet dreams for rednecks the world over. My 117 is perfect though. It's mine.
That's me, the DH, and the Brat. Oh and Bucky's rack. :-)
DH being a taxidermist, there's no question that these things will be mounted, unlike the fish (but that's another story).
Fastforward 8 months . . .I walk into the DH's shop last week and look what was hanging on the wall!! Bucky! Barbie will soon join him. Yes, I named them. Having names for things makes it easier. I don't have to say "My deer . . no the doe, not the buck." See?
Here he is . . .He's not finished, still in the drying stages, but I'm awfully proud.