Although I'd been up in the deer stand with my husband several times, I chose to stay back at the camper with my granddaughter. This was "male bonding" time for Tom and Joseph.
While Kinzie and I played board and card games, Tom and Joseph took the short trek to the deer stand, spotting three deer on the way. Things were looking good already!
Unfortunately, it was nearly dark before this buck ambled into view. Tom took his shot, sure he had hit the buck, but it scrambled into the woods without falling.
In the waning light, they searched for signs of the deer, but were not successful in finding it or a telltale trail. Disappointed, they admitted defeat and returned to the camper for dinner and hot chocolate.
The next morning, Tom rose early for another day of hunting, while the grandkids and I peacefully slept in.
About the time I was expecting him to return for breakfast, Tom called, wanting help dragging a buck out of the thicket. Excitedly, the kids and I dressed and raced to meet Tom to help.
Turns out that he was successful in hitting the buck the night before. After hunting from the stand that morning, Tom decided to try one more time to locate the deer he was so sure he had hit. Sure enough, he found the trail in the bright morning light and followed it all the way to the thicket where the buck lay. The subfreezing overnight temperatures preserved him long enough for us to find him.
Tom and I tried to prepare the grand kids for the upcoming field dressing of the buck, giving them the option of staying in the truck during the process. Both children seemed willing to participate, so we trudged through the thorny overgrowth toward Grandpa's prized buck. They were fascinated by the animal and touched it's horns and coat while Tom prepared his tools. Before making the first cut, Tom warned the kids again of what was to come but they had come too far to miss the event.
As Tom slid his knife into the hide, Kinzie, my grand daughter exclaimed, "Now it's dead!" Every knife slice through the hide, brought another, "Oh no. Now it's Really Dead!" We tried to explain that the deer was already dead before we got there, but she didn't seem to comprehend that.
My poor husband had to listen to all kinds of comments while trying to field dress the deer. We each had grabbed one leg to help steady the buck while he worked. Blood spattered a bit as Tom used a hatchet on the pelvic bone. Joseph was ecstatic, knowing his enthusiasm would aggravate his sister.
Finally, Tom and I each grabbed a horn and drug the buck to the truck, grand kids in tow. Later, as we hung and quartered the deer, Tom gave each child a deer leg to play with. We were surprised to discover the kids playing for hours, making foot prints in the dirt with their hooves.
Also, as grandparents, we enjoy creating a little havoc with the kids' parents. This time, it was watching the looks of disgust as they try to be polite to us when their children excitedly presented the deer legs to their parents. I love being a grandma!
