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| Wyatt has been keeping an eagle eye out for piles of leaves to jump in. |
Fall has arrived here in Minnesota. A beautiful fall, in fact: sunny, clear, lots of beautiful color. Today it's finally cool enough to get that sharpness in the air I love. Jonas and Wyatt are in the back yard with friends and I can hear the sound of the swing set creaking and basketballs bouncing. It's getting dark by 7 p.m. All these things make me feel cozy and content. It would be so hard to live somewhere that doesn't have a proper fall.
Now that we're back in MN, another harbinger of fall is the bow hunt. Forrest looks forward every year to hauling out his deer stand and climbing up a tree. Because we've been so busy he had to put off his first foray for a couple of weeks after the opener. He wasn't sure if he'd even see any deer since the rut hadn't quite started yet, but he figured he'd at least get a lay of the land. But then -- surprise surprise! -- I get a text. "Got a big buck. Heart beating out of my chest!" I was happy for him, but I was also a little apprehensive. We know from past experience that it's one thing to shoot a deer with a bow and arrow. It's another thing entirely to track it and find it. But Forrest was pretty sure he'd gotten off a good shot and that the deer wouldn't go far.
He asked me if I could drive up to the nature preserve and bring some supplies he didn't have with him, which I was happy to do, but by the time I got there it had become clear that he couldn't find any of his deer hunting buddies to help him track the deer and drag it out of the woods. Now, it's taken me years (YEARS) to be okay with even the idea of hunting. When Forrest took it up after we'd moved to Minnesota I hoped for a while that it would be a phase (deer are so pretty, first of all, and while I know that I eat meat that come from animals that were once alive and are now dead, I wasn't sure I wanted my husband to participate in the killing part). But over the years I've come to understand the reasons why Forrest finds bow hunting so meaningful. And there really is a need here in MN to keep the population under control. ANYWAY -- I got to the nature preserve and Forrest needed me to help him, and, truly surprisingly, I knew I could do it.
The tracking part was actually kind of exciting. Following the blood trail in the woods in the dark, shining our headlamps in the trees trying to find little droplets of red on a leaf. Yeah, yeah, I know: I should have been horrified that I was tracking the blood of an animal my husband had shot, but I wasn't. It actually made me feel better when we found blood because it indicated that the deer died quickly, without a lot of suffering. At one point we lost the trail for a little while, and it was exciting to spot the one telltale fleck that led us back in the right direction.
Then, finally, we came upon a little clearing in a grove of trees and Forrest found him. And oh, what a deer! So beautiful. He's the second biggest buck to ever be taken out of his work's nature preserve, and he looked pristine. So many deer look kind of flea bitten up close (especially in Utah, Forrest tells me, which isn't a slight against Utah but against mule deer), but this guy was perfect. I'm sure there will be a few disappointed female deer in the preserve this fall -- I bet he was the deer-style Brad Pitt of Willow Lake.
So, yeah, I was a little sad for the deer. Poor beautiful deer. But I was really happy for Forrest, too -- he was thrilled. Getting a deer this nice in the bow hunt is a rare occurrence. Here he is, right after we found him:
And yes, I helped him drag it through the woods. And held the deer's leg (and looked away) while Forrest gutted it. And yes, I went above and beyond, scoring a number of wife-points I will enjoy cashing in at some point here soon.
Here's Forrest and the boys with the deer back home:
If there's anything more to add to the deer hunting story, Forrest will have to do so in the comments. I'm sure I left out some important details. But, with the help of his friend, he went on to skin the deer, then butcher it, and by Sunday had made us a nice big pot of venison chili. Yes, he does more than bring home the bacon: he can stalk, shoot, track, gut, skin and butcher the venison, and then fry it up in a pan.
Interestingly, although Forrest spent that Friday feeling lucky and triumphant, when we got home I found a frozen MacBook waiting for me. Didn't think it was a big deal -- my MacBook is 5 years old and likes to freeze up -- but this time? It wouldn't come unfrozen. That very day I had finished what I'd hoped to be the final draft of a short story I've been working on -- I figured all that was left was language-level tweaking and I was pretty happy with it. Unfortunately, though, I hadn't saved a version on my external hard drive or emailed myself a copy for the past three weeks while I'd been working on that final version. Long story about a short story short? My hard drive was fried, and my final version of the story is gone. I still haven't been able to muster up the energy to start over again, but I will. I will. It's only three weeks, right? RIGHT? Sigh. I did get a new laptop out of the whole ordeal, though. Awesome new MacBook Pro. Thank you Best Buy 18 Months No Interest!
So that's been a small part of our fall so far. There's also been seminary and play practicing and deck building (almost done! photos soon) and traveling to Utah. Speaking of Utah, here's a couple of Utah pics to round this post out:
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| My mom and I posing for a twinner picture in our white shirts and jeans. It seemed necessary, what with my new hair cut. I am becoming my mother! Luckily, with my mom, I don't really mind. :-) |
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| And this is just cute. |
And now I must return to the laundry that's been piling up every since we got back from our trip. Laundry: it knows no season.
