Butchery

MrsZ and I are butchering my most recent deer on our own, instead of paying someone a significant chunk of cash ($65 last time) to do a mediocre job. We spent $50 on a very good boning knife and a cheap hacksaw, and I skinned out the doe earlier this week. She hung in the garage a few more days as the temperature dropped...

Last night, we moved her into the kitchen, where there's a nice beam across the ceiling. She hung in their, encased in a plastic bag, to thaw to a cut-able temperature.

I came back from a search call this morning and MrsZ had started trimming off the slabs of fat around the haunches, and then I cut out the back straps before heading off to work. I sliced off a little piece of the strap and quickly seared it in butter, then ate it ... man, there is nothing quite like that first piece of fresh venison!

In other realizations, there is nothing quite so redneck as having a skinned-out deer hanging in the middle of one's kitchen...

EDC

EDC. If you do a quick google for it, the official definition is "Expected Date of Confinement", which translates to "delivery date"... So it must be when the new parents can expect to be confined to parenting for a sentence of not less than eighteen years.

But that's not what it means on the forums I frequent.

No, in my world, EDC means Every Day Carry. The things I always have in my pockets or on my person, because life without them would be less pleasant. Of course, the list changes slightly based on what I'm wearing or where I'm going, but here's the usual:

- cell phone
- Fisher Space Pen (compact and doesn't leak, writes anywhere anywhen)
- five or ten bucks in loose bills
- lip balm of some kind (Burt's Bees or Cherry Chapstick)
- wallet, containing licenses (CCW/hunting/driving), ATM/credit cards, and some emergency cash
- a small pad of paper, currently a Moleskine softbound 3x5
- keyring with more keys than I care to think about
- Leatherman Serac S2 LED penlight
- folding pocketknife, currently a SOG Twitch II (lost it today, need to find!)
- Leatherman tool of some flavor
- pistol with reload (currently the Bersa .380, looking at new options)

If I'm wearing a jacket of some kind, it's a safe bet that I have yet another knife and some nitrile gloves floating around too. If I were a true gentleman, I'd have a lighter of some kind on there - probably a Zippo, because they have class. But I don't smoke and see no need to encourage it in others. Not to mention Zippo fuel makes my leg itchy. There's a lighter in the truck (Bic) and that'll have to do when I need flame.

That's it. Every day I'm out and about, those things are on or around my person somewhere. No towel, because I am not quite a hoopy frood, but I've found them to be the bare minimum to survive in a relatively civilized society.

Now, when I go hunting, the list changes, because the needs when hunting change. I'm no longer in civilized society, I'm in the big bad nasty woods, and there are Lions And Tigers And Bears Oh My. The pistol becomes a .44Spl stoked with hot handloads, there's usually a chunk of 550 cord, a couple energy bars, a Surefire G2L, a fixed-blade hunting knife, a Buck 110, couple zip ties, a Bic lighter and so forth.

So, what's in your pockets?

A perfect hunt

What makes a hunt perfect? I guess that depends on your personal preferences. For me, it's a combination of things, and two completely different hunts can both be perfect. It's not any one thing, but my mood combined with the rest of the experience. A perfect hunt may not even include a kill.

Today? Today was a perfect hunt. I spent my morning skinning the doe I took from the farm last week, in preparation for butchering over the next few days. After cleaning up and looking at my honey-do list, I decided I'd rather hunt. I left the house around 1:30 with the proper accoutrements, and headed (after a fair bit of waffling) to Hunting Buddy's place, about a 35-minute drive. I already had the perfect spot in mind...

I parked the truck and finished getting ready - I end up looking like the Michelin Man when I go hunting, but that means I'm usually warm enough. Loaded my shotgun and headed in to the stand. I make no extreme efforts to walk quietly when I walk in, but I do try to keep noise to a minimum, and carry my gun at low-ready. Nothing bumped out in front of me, and I was in my stand shortly before 2:30. I settled in to watch and wait.

A light snow started falling. Something about snow in the woods, particularly when hunting, holds a certain bit of romance. The woods are quiet enough that you can hear the individual flakes of snow rattling down onto dry leaves, and there was no wind to chill things any further.

There I sat, listening to the snow, watching the woods and fields around me, and generally enjoying the solitude. As if on cue to complete the scene, a goose honked off in the distance. One lone honk turned into the melodic cacophony of a flock. For as long as I can remember, I have always looked for the "V" when I hear geese, and this was no different. I watched to the northeast, and listened as the flock grew louder - and started to sound bigger. The first "V" flew into sight above the trees and flew nearly directly over me... followed by another, and another. I looked farther towards the horizon, and the skies were filled with geese - hundreds, perhaps as many as a couple thousand. The honking grew louder, to the point of drowning out everything around me... all I could do was watch as this magnificent flock flew over me, and this is the image that came to mind. Nothing but geese, horizon to horizon, in a seemingly un-ending stream. Not one gigantic "V", but dozens of individual ones, from five or ten to well over a hundred. Amazing.

After the geese passed over, the snow stopped and the sun broke through the clouds for a few minutes. I watched and listened, smiling at the chattering grey squirrels and glaring at the woodpecker rat-a-tatting on the tree next to me. In the marshy bottom to my right, a flicker of movement caught my eye. Partially screened by a pine tree, I craned my head around to get a better look, and saw a doe moving through the brush on the far side. No clear shots from the stand, so I took a chance and quickly climbed down to ground level. My foot hit the dry leaves below and she snorted once and ran off. I climbed back up and settled in for another wait, hoping she or a friend would circle back around through the brush.

Shortly after four, a small doe (probably a yearling) picked her way up the creek bottom behind me, and started up the small rise under my stand. I'd been waiting for just this situation, and carefully unholstered my pistol, hoping to mark down another "first" in the hunting memories. The rustle of fabric as I reached under my overalls, however, startled the deer, and she stopped and stamped once, looking for an as-yet unknown threat. I gave a soft grunt on my call and she stopped looking quite so nervous. She took a half-step forward, slightly screened by a small sapling perhaps 15 yards from my stand. I extended my arm and started to cock the hammer for a single-action shot, waiting for her to move clear of the sapling. The tiny "click" of the cylinder unlocking spooked her and she ran off into the clearing 40-50 yards away as I eased the hammer back down. I could have taken the shot with my shotgun, but the deer wasn't big enough to make it worth it. The challenge of a pistol shot, yes, but not the "gimme" of a rifled shotgun.

She slowly moved out of the marsh and to the edge of the field in front of me, and I considered a few options for taking a shot with the shotgun, but decided to let her walk. I hoped there would be a few more deer following behind shortly, and I wasn't disappointed. A few moments later, a pair of doe crested the slight hill at the edge of the field and started walking across, followed by three more. I picked a likely lane and waited for the larger of the first pair to move through it. She did, I shot - and missed. *shame!* The first pair ran off, and the second group ran a few paces before stopping to look around. I drew a bead on the larger of the group and waited. She stepped into a clearing, and I shot - and missed again. (Note to self: MUST replace crappy factory irons with dot or scope!) This time, though, she didn't run - she stood right there. I took careful aim again, and pulled the trigger...

... and down she went. I gathered my stuff quickly and climbed down, walking to the edge of the field where she'd dropped. She was still panting and thrashing a little, so I shot her once more, this time with my .44. While she finished dying, I walked the edge of the field, checking for sign to make sure I had actually missed the first deer. I found her tracks and followed them for forty or fifty yards, and found no blood or hair - it was a clean miss.

I went back to the deer I'd shot and dressed it out. In the process I discovered that (A) this "doe" was a large button buck, and (B) nicked my glove and knuckle while getting the diaphragm/heart/lungs out. I tied my drag on and headed back to the truck. Home with a stop for another set of eyebolts to hang this one, and now he is hanging in the garage, waiting to be skinned and butchered next week.

So what made it a perfect hunt? Not just killing a deer - although that is a plus. The snow. The temperature. The lack of wind. The sun. The squirrels. The woodpecker. The deer that got away. The geese. The time to myself, to turn off the things stressing me at home and work and focus exclusively on the world in front of me. When I'm hunting, I can forget about my work schedule, the payments for the truck and the house, what groceries I need, what still needs fixing, etc. It's simply me and the world, and that's the best possible time out there.

Hulk RAGE

I'm a pretty middle-of-the-road person when it comes to politics. Forced to pick a spot on the spectrum, I'm going to lean hard to conservative-libertarian when it comes to government, and moderately liberal on societal issues.

I believe in small government, the truth of "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness", the right to speak my mind, carry a gun, and everything else the Founding Fathers wrote into the Bill of Rights and the Constitution. I'm not particularly religious myself, but you can light candles and whisper prayers to whatever superior being floats your boat - or none at all if you like. I believe you should be able to sleep with whomever you want, marry whomever you love (if your church allows it - why is government involved in marriage?), smoke whatever makes you happy.

However - your right to do any of these things ends where it infringes on MY right to do these things. "Adam & Steve" walking down the street holding hands doesn't do that. Getting stoned out of your mind and getting behind the wheel? That's a big no-no, because then you are endangering MY right to live.

I don't have a problem with a hand up. I do have a problem with a hand out. You've been paying your way and things go toes-up? Need a few weeks or months of unemployment to keep you going while you land another job? Fine. You're working 40+ hours in a week but still aren't quite making ends meet? OK, food stamps or food banks - for essentials.

I guess what it really comes down to is personal responsibility. I know, not likely, but that's where my true beliefs lie.

So why the rage? Because of people milking the system.

I stopped at the grocery before work today to pick up a few 6-packs of soda. I was waiting on line to check out, and a woman with a child in a stroller asked if she could budge because she was in a hurry and only had a couple things. No worries, I let her go ahead of me.

She began having trouble with the card reader, and as I waited behind her getting more and more frustrated, things became clear. She was buying danishes, gum, and sparkling juice. On food stamps. Blood pressure started climbing. I can count on my fingers the number of times in a YEAR that I buy pastries. I DON'T buy sparkling grape juice because $4.99 a bottle is ridiculous.

WHY are these things OK to spend food stamps on? They shouldn't be. Food stamps need to be for essentials, just like WIC items. Flour. Eggs. Bread. Cereals. Milk. Cheese. Pasta. Vegetables. Staples that are necessary, not luxury items, and let's be real honest: fizzy juice for five bucks is a LUXURY.

Why is my state going broke? Because of stupidity like this.

Oddball acquisitions

Occasionally I come into oddball things for no apparent reason. Sunday was one of those times.

I had a chainsaw that I picked up used last year. It didn't run quite right, and I ran out of patience to tinker with it. A couple friends who are good with saws made a few suggestions about what might be wrong, but I never got around to digging into it.

A few weeks ago I placed it on the local Craigslist with a clear description of what it did and didn't do, and what the presumed problem was. A few nibbles here and there but nothing solid. One guy finally got hold of me by phone and asked if I was interested in trades. I explained that I had a functional saw and wasn't interested in another ... but he had in mind a shotgun. He isn't a gun guy, so could only tell me it was a "J Stevens Springfield 16 gauge single shot". I allowed that I may be interested, and we set up a time to meet.

I went over Sunday and met him, showed him the saw, and looked over the shotgun. It is pre-GCA, as it has no serial number. The butt stock is in decent shape, no dings or damage, wood isn't anything fancy. The butt plate is also in good shape, although one of the screws is buggered. Receiver is in good shape, no rust, but not much color left either. Honest wear. The forearm, however, has a crack and is very loose on the stud. Looks like the screw had been replaced at some point with one that is slightly mis-matched. The bore was mostly clean with a few patches of surface rust, no obvious pitting.

In mint condition, it would be a $150 gun. I pointed out what was wrong and explained that it was worth perhaps $70 or $75 to me, and I couldn't go straight across for my saw. He offered some cash, which put us in the right ballpark but was still low. He then asked if I had another shotgun - I do, both a 12ga and a 20ga. He offered a couple boxes of 20ga slugs to balance things out, and I figured that'd be a pretty fair deal.

He showed me the three saws in his garage that were "too small" for the project he was working on - and based on what I saw and my own experience, the problem isn't the saws, but probably a loose nut on the throttle.

So now I have a wall-hanger shotgun that will be trade fodder for some gun show down the road, or maybe a wintertime project to replace the forearm before selling it. The slugs will be of use in MrsZ's 870, and the cash already went into processing costs for the buck I got earlier this season.

It's nice to roll things that are taking up space into things that have some real potential use to them. *grin*