Fall is in full swing around this outfit which means several things. First, I am…older. Which is sad, but it sure beats the alternative. It also means we had to rip out our garden which always makes me sad but I am never sad to see canning season end. But more than anything what fall means around our house is that it is hunting season. Of on variety of another of course. We have been grouse hunting, goose hunting, pheasant hunting, duck hunting, and Nate has been deer hunting up a storm. The first day he went out with his dad and Spencer they left the house at 4:00 AM and didn’t get back until after dark. They hiked to the top of the Wellsvilles (which in my opinion is just craziness because let’s face it—who wants to pack a deer out of those steep suckers?) and when they got home every last one of them said they would NEVER do it again…until two days later when they unanimously agreed that it really wasn’t that bad and if Andrew ever wanted to go they would go with him. ***I am so glad I don’t deer hunt. They didn’t get a deer so Nate went back out a couple days later with Michael and Michael got a nice two point deer. Yes, I did say nice. I don’t want Nate bringing home any big monsters, which in my opinion don’t taste as good. I want him bringing home some nice tender young meat. Nate and Spencer then went out again on Friday night and I knew when they didn’t show up after dark that they had gotten something. Nate shot a lousy four point. I mean, did he not get the memo about shooting the little tender ones? (In all fairness the four point was an absolutely lovely deer and it tastes amazing and is very tender.) He and Spender were way back in the mountains though and it took them three hours to drag it out. When we finally got it home we used our pulley system set up for the kayak and hung it underneath the back balcony in true redneck fashion. Nate’s family thought we should take the deer to Horlachers (the local butchers) and have them process the deer, but being the cheapskate with an overly inflated sense of self-confidence Native American rancher’s daughter that I am, I insisted that we process it ourselves (besides I am not entirely convinced that the deer you give them and the deer/parts of deer(s) you get back are the same deer, but that is a story for another day). To be honest, I have never processed anything by myself before. Usually when Collin and Dad butcher at home I am just on skinning/wrapping duty—but even that hasn’t happened for ten years. Collin and Dad happened to be processing an elk that weekend and so they made some tutorial videos on mom’s phone and emailed them to me so I could watch their technique—I love technology. It wasn’t as good as having them here to show me how to do it, but it was the next best thing. So that afternoon I trotted myself down to Walmart and bought a sharp knife and some plastic freezer bags. The look on the face of the guy who sold them to me was priceless. I should have purchased some duct tape and a shovel just to see if he would call the cops. Back at the house armed with my personal butchering video collection and the knife my grandpa gave me I skinned the deer and then proceeded to process it with my new knife and bag the meat with the vacuum packer. When Nate arrived home I was doing fairly well but welcomed the company and the help. Eventually Michael showed up to help too. We got done about 10:00 at night and I was relieved to have the chore finished. The freezer is now chock full of deer, lamb, and garden veggies, and it is safe to say we are going to be eating very well this winter. Nate even made some delicious venison jerky, but don’t ask for any; I am not sharing. Grandpa I know you would be proud.