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Bow Season!

This is my first season climbing up in a deer stand with my new Mathews Mission Craze bow.  Every Saturday morning and one Sunday morning since bow season started, I have gone with hubby to my brother’s fifteen acres to climb up in separate deer stands early in the morning and wait for deer to come out.  Amazingly, we have seen  several bucks and does in that small fifteen acre space!  One morning I observed a deer emerge from his bedding area, pause, and then trot up a hill.  It was still too dark to see if it had antlers or not.  In my county we can’t shoot one unless it has a twelve-inch spread or is a spike or doe during archery season.  One morning my husband saw a buck and several does, but he was either walking through the woods unprepared to take a shot, or the deer spotted him and bolted before he could take aim.

Hunting is so much more than the shot.  It is so peaceful in the woods waiting for the sun to come up.  I relish sitting peacefully in the dark, sipping on hot coffee, watching light gradually take over the forest.  Nothing taken yet with my bow, and gun season opens this Saturday.  Watch out, deer!  The boomsticks are coming out!

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School and hunting season. . .

School started late in August and I haven’t had a chance to blog.  Bow season has been open since the first weekend in October.  I have been out twice with hubby and actually sat in a deer stand both times.  It is difficult to sit 12 feet in the air in the dark with a thermos full of coffee and maintain balance.  But I love the sounds of the hour before twilight:  faint rustlings in the leaves, owls hooting to each other, the night sky becoming lighter in teeny increments.  I only burned myself once with my coffee as I poured it from the thermos into the built-in cup.  It’s hard to see when it gets full!  I hope deer don’t smell coffee.  First and second time out, the only critters I saw were birds and squirrels.  Dang, that deer feeder is loud when it goes off!

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Beautiful Repurposing

Check out my sister’s new headboard fashioned from two salvaged

 doors and pieces of pressed tin removed from a flower pot!  

A little help from hubby, some paint and sanding, and voila!

  Genius, and wonderful

 addition to her shabby chic farmhouse bedroom!  

Good work, Sharon!
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Too HOT to hunt. . .

. . .but my hubby doesn’t think so. He was so proud when he came home the other day proclaiming that he had shot yet another wild pig with his Martin Firecat bow and Rage Broadhead! Since he was alone on his hunting expedition–believe me, if it is warmer than 80 degrees out, I am not interested–he took the photo of the pig alone. This population of pigs has been forced to hang out near the creek because it has been so dry and hot. Lucky for us!

www.martinarchery.com
www.ragebroadheads.com

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Home Butchering Ain’t for Sissies. . .

It’s been awhile but I promised to talk about our hog butchering, home edition.  It wasn’t pretty. 

We brought my first kill home, along with her piglet, and as I was inside searching the phone book for a meat processor with late hours, hubby was outside in our carport with mama pig across his open pickup tailgate, cutting into her tough hide to start transforming her into pork chops. 

Before I could stop him, he was bringing into my clean kitchen pieces of fresh pork that I was supposed to package up and place in our freezer.  It wouldn’t have been so bad, but as I began to place each piece onto freezer paper, I almost gagged when I realized that there were still coarse black hairs attached.  Yuk!  So I swallowed the bile and picked the hairs out of the meat until it looked clean enough to wash and wrap up. 

The dutiful huntress and wife placed all packages in a freezer container which went into the back of the freezer until I had the stomach to bring it back out for cooking. 

Unfortunately, over a year has passed and I haven’t had the urge to bring it out.  Now it is too old and needs to be thrown out!  I was never able to forget the smell of that pig and the nasty coarse hair on my countertops.  She should have joined her little piglet offspring in the field as a free meal for nature’s predators and decomposers.  Better yet, we should have left her where she dropped. 

But it was a learning experience.  When I get the taste for pork again (if ever), I’ll buy it from the grocery store already cleaned and packaged.