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Wednesday, November 06 2013

 

We all make compromises in life. Ideally, in every relationship there is a give and take. For instance, I happen to like my does. I see them frequently bouncing through the forest and they make me smile. Other Half and Son see food on the hoof. While I don't want any of my does killed, the Grandma Doe is definitely off limits. The boys think she needs to go. I belief that if she has lasted this long, we should leave her alone. She deserves that much.

So the boys went hunting last weekend. Son wanted a big buck or a turkey. Other Half wanted the spike buck. I just wanted them to shoot some hogs.

After sitting in the blinds for hours at various times, both boys reported that our ranch hosted a large number of does. Even on the phone, I knew which direction this conversation was going so I wasn't too surprised when I got this text:

"Five does out of eight do u want some doe meat" 

(Note: there is no punctuation in a deer blind and you must decipher code. It should read: Five does eating. Three more just walked up. Do you want some doe meat?)

I didn't get his text immediately, but heard the follow-up dinging on my phone and decided that I needed to quit doing dishes and get to the charging cell phone. This was his follow-up message:

"Do I have the green for the kill shot"

Damn. I felt like Michael Douglas in "An American President" when he had to approve the order for an air strike that would kill some poor janitor. Damn.

So I sent back.

"Ok"

Then I followed up quickly with this:

"But not Grandma!"

There was a silence. I fretted. Damn.

Then a ding. "she down"

DamndamndamndamnDAMN!

He quickly followed: "Not grand ma"

Somehow that made it better. We needed the meat. Yes, the does probably need to be thinned out, but something about that old doe tugged at my heart, so I was glad it wasn't Grandma.

The downed doe was big and she will feed us for a long time. I'll tan the hide. The dogs will enjoy the feet as chew toys. Nothing will be wasted and she didn't suffer. Killing your food is definitely more emotionally taxing than going to the grocery store, but I have always felt a lot better about eating meat that I know lived a happy life.

Now it's time to start earnestly hunting Porky Pig because I'm ready to swear off commercial pork entirely. Although I cannot stomach the way hogs are treated by the meat industry, I have absolutely no problem pulling the trigger on Arnold the wild hog.

 

"Look out, Arnold! I see pork tamales in your future!"

Posted by: forensicfarmgirl AT 11:58 am   |  Permalink   |  0 Comments  |  Email
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