Steve, Chase, our neighbor Charles and his younger brother Brandon all went to Cedar Saturday morning to deer hunt. They left at 5:30 am. By about 1:00 pm, Steve called and said no luck. They decided to call Bryce Bishop. He recommended one last spot to try and.......tah-dah! Steve shot his deer. The processing shop is closed on Saturdays (go figure?), but we were in luck. Bryce has a little shop at his house devoted to processing the meat from his hunts. So now the deer is hanging in his garage waiting to become jerky and gound venison. Request your orders quick, as I am sure it will go fast!
7 comments:
Jill, I have got to tell you, growing up in California, I had actually never met anyone who hunted before moving to Utah. The first Oct. we were here I noticed all of these "Deer Widow" events around town. Crafts, boutiques, shopping, etc. I thought how lovely that everyone was raising money for the poor women who lost their husbands to deer hunt accidents. Yeah, I really did ask our Bishop why so many men were getting hurt. Do you really eat the meat?
Look how happy Steve looks! Funny. So the deer just hangs out in Brice's garage for a couple of days and the meet is okay? Does the meet take up a lot of freezer space? How long is deer season anyways?
Umm......congratulations? So are you going to dedicate a room in your house for all the antlers? You know, like a trophy game room. Remember the bear show at Disneyland where the buffalo and deer head hanging on the wall talked? Maybe you could work something like that out. It would be a big hit for ward get-togethers.
P.S. Did you ever do How to Host a Murder?
I never knew the Simmons were such hunters! The city slickers seem to be adjusting quickly to country life.
Seriously! Look at that grin on Steve's face. Did anyone else notice the deer's tongue is hanging out...like on the cartoons...that's how you can know that it is really dead.
Please please don't tell me you are mounting any decapitated heads on your wall! Oh wait...maybe Besty's cabin? Perfect!
Oh, Bambi . . . Where's your mom?
Grandpa O
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