Fair warning: Dead deer photos ahead.
This is the second weekend of rifle season for deer, and A. was on the hunt for a buck. He got a doe last weekend, which has already been made into one roasted haunch for Thanksgiving dinner, plus two gallons of chili and two gallons of stock for the freezer.
His other tag was for a buck, which of course are less common than does and therefore that much more exciting to hunt. He's been out every day for the past four without even spotting a buck. But this morning, he went out, hiked to the neighbor's gully, and shot a buck within ten minutes.
And then he had to get it home.
He dragged it down the gully until he got just across from our house, then he dragged it up the gully bank and we brought him the utility sled to get it the rest of the way home. Cubby and Charlie had just returned from their church outing with the MiL. Good thing they were there to help.
I'm sure A. never would have gotten it home without them pushing at the rear.
Once it was on our lawn, A. drove the Subaru to the sled and hooked the sled to the trailer hitch to tow it the rest of the way.
Dashing through the mud, in a one-buck open sleigh . . .
Jack was there, though his contribution was negligible.
Deeply skeptical of this whole proceeding.
He did get a close-up look at the antlers, though.
Blackrock baby and a buck.
The buck has been hung in a tree, thoroughly cleaned, and washed out with the hose. It is even now dripping onto the lawn, awaiting butchering next weekend.
You just never do know what a Sunday afternoon will bring at Blackrock.