cellini's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Also, I Kill. Well damn. That was a productive day. I cashed a check from my client on Saturday, got a bunch of editing done on a book, picked up a new client for a guided hunt later this week, dealt with some contract shit for the gun reviews I'm writing for extra money, and then the biologist I'm working with on the snail thing asked me to please get some fresh samples and put them in rubbing alcohol and take them over to the agency aquatics guy with an office at the Dept. of Forestry. Off I went to collect samples. It was a whole thing. Then I took them to the DoF, where dude was not in but I dropped off the samples for him and spent a while chatting with various foresters. Or whatever they are called. Then I got home and there was about 30 minutes of daylight left. My 3 year old asked me to take him hunting for deer. Well, ok. I had promised him that he could come out with me soon. So I put a blaze orange hat on him, grabbed a rifle, and we went out the door. I wasn't really expecting to get anything, since he tends to be loud and scares everything away. But he likes coming on a walk with me and I teach him things while we are out there. Maybe 5 minutes later I spotted a deer about 130 yards away. Huh. Part of me really didn't want the hassle of butchering a deer at the moment on account of having a dozen buffalo wings and a beer waiting for me at the end of a busy day. I said to Harry, "ok, there's a deer right over there. I should be able to make the shot from here. Do you want me to definitely shoot the deer?" "Yes! Shoot the deer!" I shouldered my rifle, pulled the sling tight against my left elbow to get really steady, and got ready to take this 130 yard off-hand shot with a distractingly loud 3 year old behind me. I decided to go for a spine shot since it was about to get dark and I didn't want the deer to run even 50 or 100 yards before dying and then have to track it in the dark with a 3 year old. The big doe dropped to the shot, going down the like the proverbial ton of bricks. Perfectly spined. Harry and I walked up to it. We knelt down and thanked the deer and apologized for having to kill it in order to eat it. I actually got it skinned and butchered in record time for me. About 1 hour and 45 minutes, including having to transport the whole carcass by myself, in the dark, roughly 300 yards to the house. I didn't bother with gutting it since that is just more work and I was prepared to butcher it immediately. We ate a backstrap for dinner, mere hours after the animal had been alive and well and prancing around. I understand that this makes the typical reader uncomfortable, but understand that I *am* a predator. One might as well criticize a great blue heron for stabbing at a frog with its beak and gulping it down. I have the same Pavlovian reaction to the sight of a deer or goose that most humans do to a hot fudge sundae. I kill in order to survive and to feed the people and animals for whom I am responsible. Anyone with a problem with that is advised to take it up with the last few million years of hominid evolution. 6:55 p.m. - 2010-11-16 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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