Never a dull moment after the deer hunt

WELL I’M HAPPY TO say that last week I reaffirmed my faith in miracles and the power of prayer. Maybe I should explain. You see, on the first Thursday of the deer season, I tagged a fine little buck. And on the following Monday, I butchered it all by myself, without any adult supervision.

I did a decent job too. The parts of it that weren’t in our venison stew on Tuesday are now resting comfortably in the freezer, awaiting their next assignment.

Those who have spent time in the outdoors with me might tell you the miracle part is I had a successful hunt. They wouldn’t be far off the mark either – but that’s not what I’m referring to.

The miracle is I am able to use all ten digits to type this column, despite the fact I butchered my own deer.

A lot of people are under the mistaken impression that facing a charging grizzly bear or Cape buffalo is the most dangerous thing a hunter can do. But that’s only because they have never seen the aftermath of a do-it-yourself butchering job.

Even now I shudder at the thought.

As I said, I got off relatively unscathed though. In fact, I only had one wound that would have been considered mortal before the advent of modern medical practices – I cut my ring finger just a little.

To be clear, when I say just a little what I mean to say is this year, Jenn didn’t ask me if I arrowed a deer in the house.

Last year, was much worse. I had matching band-aids on all five fingers of my right hand – and two on my left – and it got even worse after I finished sharpening the knives.

And therein lies the problem.

You see, the hunter who wishes to butcher his own deer doesn’t do it to save money. He or she does it to justify money spent on sharp knives, sharpening apparatus, butcher paper, a grinder, sausage maker and a state-of-the-art firstaid kit.

My sharpening process goes something like this. I begin with a scary sharp knife. I know it is scary sharp because I typically cut myself with it after checking it for scary sharpness.

After I have returned from Emerg., I realize that the act of me cutting myself might have done something to deteriorate that knife’s keen edge. So, I get my electric knife sharpener going and sharpen the blade with a coarse, medium and fine belt. This is followed by a few passes on the strop.

Then, after shaving the hair off of my arm to ensure the knife is sharp, I go to the drug store to buy additional medical supplies so I can staunch the bleeding and some Rogaine, so I can try to grow that hair back before Jenn gets home.

This is the standard procedure I go through for my skinning, boning, and slicing knives, before, during and after the butchering process.

But, as I said, this year was a miraculous year in that no blood transfusions were required.

I did my butchering without any lasting physical harm. I might have to deal with a little post traumatic stress disorder, however – but only because I forgot to clean the blood from my cut out of the bathroom sink before Jenn got home.

Also, the UPS lady will not be coming back any time soon.