(Originally posted on November 14, 2014.)
I can’t help but notice that you wander back to town right after my birthday every year. Is that a coincidence or are you deliberately waiting in order to dodge the expectation of a gift? Don’t answer that…
You do, however, bring a few nice things with you from your travels, such as relief from the sweltering summer heat and a few days off for Thanksgiving right around the corner. Don’t get me wrong. Those kinds of things are greatly appreciated, but I would like to discuss one of your more annoying character traits…Deer Season!
My husband looks forward to your return every year, solely for the love of your deer season. This is the time of year that he packs up and leaves our happy home in Northwest Tennessee to begin a three month hiatus in Northern Mississippi. He doesn’t actually hunt the deer. He does much, much worse. He processes the meat that others hunt.
He gets very excited around Halloween every year at the prospect of spending three months dismembering and dissecting dead animals.
Yes, that’s right. He braves the cold of a walk-in cooler to choose which of Bambi’s descendants he’d like to remove from the meat hook, and then proceeds to de-skin, disembowel, behead and hack it into small pieces. I refer to this time of year as “deer-pocalypse.”
He gets very excited around Halloween every year at the prospect of spending three months dismembering and dissecting dead animals. It’s tough to share in his excitement, but I try so very hard to give positive feedback when he sends pictures fifty or so deer on meat hooks in the cooler…or twenty severed heads whose antlers I can’t focus on because there are bloody “things” stringing from their necks where their bodies once were.
And then there’s the other thing that he does; that thing where he puts the stripped down torso of a deer into a trash bag and brings it home in the trunk of the car for our dogs to eat. Yes, eat! As he stands back explaining to me that, “It’s good for them! They love it!” I am sure they do, but that doesn’t make it any less repulsive.
So, Mid-November, bring your temperature drops and your multicolored leaves raining from the trees. Bring your pumpkin pie and your Thursday afternoon nap. You can even bring those hideous football games and yes, make my husband happy with the deer massacre. But please, when you see Early-February strolling into town, bow out gracefully so it can bring in the flowers, hearts and chocolates that always make me feel reinvigorated.
Your apprehensive pal,