Deer Hunt

My first deer hunt was in much the same area as my antelope.  It is in the hills outside of Battle Mountain where Brian spent his childhood and youth.  He has countless stories as we pass from mountain top to valley.  His recollections as we drive are my favorite part of the whole experience.  For our deer Brian had to teach two rookies.  One of his co-workers put in for tags as a party and we all drew.  I hope it was still enjoyable for Brian.  I had a great time, but I had to do little work while he had to do a great deal.  Still, it was beautiful out in the playground of his past.  Unfortunately, they issued an astronomical amount of tags in this area this year.  As a result, places where you scarcely run into another soul had countless hunters camped along the ridges of every ravine and skyline.  It made it more difficult to find a buck worth shooting.  There were a lot of yearlings, which many people from frustration resorted to harvesting.  I would have too, but I got lucky and a really good sized older buck jumped out in front of me.  I was startled by him and it took me several shots before he finally went down much farther than my first sighting.  It was generous of Brian to wait for me and let me get him.  Fortunately, Brian is a pack mule.  Seriously... I can't say how many stories he's told me about packing a 150 lb deer off the mountain.  It's not that I didn't believe him, but until this experience, I couldn't fully grasp what that meant.  My deer weighed in at 170 lbs.  Brian's dad has resigned his post as pack mule, and his friend with us had very recently had a knee replacement.  That left Brian to carry it out for me.  He strapped it to his back and then rested every hundred yards or so.  It's an incredible sight to see him carrying something he has to have help standing against.  I told him I was greatly reassured in knowing that if something ever happened to me, he could pack me off the mountain:)  Because of the magnitude of tags issued, the butcher he sometimes uses was completely full by opening day.  Brian's friend harvested a smaller deer the next day which Brian also carried off the mountain.  He then had to butcher both after his return home.  It was an exciting and memorable experience.  I'm grateful for the opportunity to better understand my husband and his hobby: something that has shaped him in so many ways.  Further, I'm beyond grateful for the freezer full of meat with rising meat prices in stores across America.  Also, I feel like there is an element of connect between the meals that I make and the animals that provided them.  I can see how perspectives often look on hunting as barbaric and egotistical.  I myself thought that for much of my life.  Still, I hope to shed a different perspective for my children.  Already I feel like I absolutely couldn't waste any of the meat; certainly not so callously as I have in the past after defrosting something from the store I no longer wanted.  I know where it came from, what all went into its use, and have a respect never before accrued.  Still, I'd be lying if I said that sport played no part.  It truly is exciting.