Famous Wife of Famous Grouser was to be stranded with kids opening morning, as the Famous Grouser in question had some sort of work obligation. Apparently there is an alarming
lack of babysitters willing to come over at 530am.

The NYSDEC or the Super Committee should do something.

Enter the StedmaNowlens and Julie in particular, saintly willing to watch four kids while Angela and I enjoyed opening morn. Opening Day Eve was thus filled with the usual trappings of deer camp: popcorn, chocolate milk (keep the rapscallions up late so hopefully they’d sleep in—it didn’t work), nerf gun fights, floor hockey (complete with hockey fights and penalty box episodes) and a suspicious looking character called ‘sponge bob’ something or other. Just a normal camp.





Morning dawned, as it tends to do around here. Contemplative halcyon moments of frantically fumbling with Angela’s rifle/ammo (.257 Roberts) in the garage, and then *out there*. I first sat out behind the barn and Angela opted for the driveway stand where she apparently had a monster buck doing jumping jacks in a santy-claus suit begging to be eliminated from the gene pool. I’ll let her tell that story as she wishes.I moved down the hill to the new orchard stand, to be closer to all of the action. Two does crossed the far end of the meadow @ 75 yards, moving pretty good, and I let them go. I was rewarded 15 minutes later with a nice doe working her way up the edge of the meadow. At 30 yards she was almost exactly broadside,
just barely quartering (“sixteenthing?”) toward me. Perfect.

Held right behind the right shoulder and touched trigger. She staggered, spun, and ran. Out of sight. But a big crash. This was good. Called Angela, waited about 15 minutes, and went looking. Clear scuff marks in the skiff of snow where she spun, but no blood. An easy trail of scuff marks, but still no blood. And there she lay: went about 30 yards and never bled a drop. No exit wound, but ribs busted up and heart cut in half.

Called up Julie and she and Colin (Angela and Andy’s youngest) came down the hill to share the experience, leaving Hannah in charge of the other two boys (these three [including both of mine] apparently lured by the siren song of the fire and the HD TV rather than the great outdoors). Sigh. Colin toted his double barrel just in case.

I was glad to have Angela’s help on the drag: that is a steep hill and a big deer and I am not the paragon of physical fitness I would like to be (sucking in the gut really doesn’t help that much when the chips are down).