Huntography has changed my views on hunting forever but not in a good way. Yesterday, I killed my second buck of the season and because I didn't have any footage of the actual shot, I attempted to make up for it by shooting a slew of replay footage which I compiled into a video. I figured that a whole bunch of landscape, grass, and tree shots would prove to make a video that could rival Rudy's gem when he captured the harvest of my first back three weeks past. A lofty goal, I know but since I am an individual whose expectations are rarely met, being too outlandish for a normal person to reach, I figured I could make an interesting video about hunting without ever actually showing any hunting being done.
I love Top Chef. It is the only show that I really watch anymore and truth be told, I'm not entirely sure why. Top Chef combines two things that don't really sit well with me, food and cooking. If you read a blog posting I created some months ago, then you will be keenly aware of my predilection towards what nourishes me. While I have been blaming my lack of ingesting sustenance on our extremely poor situation and the extraordinary stress we've been under (for reasons that shall remain nameless, unfortunately, but just know I may be a little off in the coming weeks), I know that there's a little part of my brain that is frankly happy that eating is something that I do infrequently. In the same token, cooking is something that I don't really get. I have never gotten "it", being putting different kinds of food together to make one big type of food or little bunches of food that marries as well as an any Kardashian nuptial. Granted, I am getting better in the room I used to be scared of and previously used as additional storage (I found this out the hard way as when we moved here, I found a box of my old kitchen wears from my old apartment, almost all had never seen a food particle in their sad lives), I've made a bunch of dinners and even baked goods that DU has raved over (probably simply because he no longer must sustain on Ramen noodles). However, these meals were made with one eye on a recipe card and the other guiding a shaking hand. After evaluating all of the evidence at hand, it seems that I enjoy Top Chef because it is an ethnography for a life that I could never fathom.
I don't understand people who don't duck hunt.
Okay, maybe that is not entirely true.
I don't understand, at all, what I did before I started to hunt waterfowl.
That's more like it. Yes, I cannot fathom a life without duck hunting, nor can I fathom a life without those who enjoy shooting the feathered beings from the blue vastness.
No one had a harder time dealing with the passing of Oscar than Avery. While I moped around our cabin, being reminded moment after moment that there was a key figure missing within the household, Avery slept on our couch or looked out the window, waiting, it seemed for her big brother to come back. Titus stopped his continual bouts of play with his little sister simply because he took his new status as head-of-house and security system extremely seriously. My heart was broken but it fractured a little more daily, seeing how badly my canine offspring were handling the trauma. We were quick to face the realization of what we had to do to rectify the off-balance teeter-toter plaguing our home, one of the hardest things one can do after a pet passes; to find a new member of the family.
I was tricked into tasting my first piece of venison. My ex-beau was an avid hunter and while it was a tad off-putting that he still cohabited with his parents at the ripe old age at twenty-five, I, my innocent, stupid self, thought myself in the throws of love and didn't care. Within his parent's home was a large edifice known as "The Room of Death". Along every inch of the wall hung beautiful bucks, flying geese, snarling coyotes and even a lone mountain lion (this kill is due in large part to the overpopulation of deer that was experienced some years ago in upstate New York. The sheer number of deer in that part of the state was becoming problematic for both humans as well as the animals so the powers that be decided that throwing in a pack of coyotes was the best option for control ((apparently it didn't occur to them to decrease the price of hunting tags to allure more hunters to the area as my first set of in-state tags ran a staggering $150)). When the yotes became more of a nuisance than the deer, you guessed it, mountain lions were introduced. To inject brevity into an otherwise lengthy tale, the mountain lions, shockingly enough, also became a problem, which is why one is showcased within the Room of Lead Departure).
Even as I begin to press my fingers upon the black keys before me, my eyes refuse to stay dry. Reminders surround me every moment that I plod around in this house. Reminders that where there was three, there are now two. Where three ate, now only two bowls stand, filled with food. I am reminded of my Oscar, the puppy that I held the title of mom for over a year. The tears flow freely now so if this post begins to not make any sense, its their fault, not mine.
The Writing huntress
I hunt. I write. I wear what some consider an unnecessary amount of camouflage face paint.