The Hunting Season

Today is the first day of muzzleloader season for deer. This means nothing, of course, if you don't hunt or live in the country.

Around here, it is a BIG DEAL. Hunting season defines the autumns.

This means that beginning today, every weekend, and some weekdays, I am the hostess of a hunting camp.

This morning Husband left at 4 a.m. to relieve another firefighter so he could come here and hunt. When I got up this morning at 7 a.m. (you didn't think I got up at 4 a.m. with him, did you?), there were two pick ups in the driveway.

I had to call Husband and make sure one was okay, as it was unfamiliar, but it was another firefighter down to hunt. Good thing because it was too early to call the law.

I heard a shot and later another.

A little later, a third pick up truck grumbled its way up our driveway.

It is a happy time for the men. Not so happy for me because I sometimes get stuck fixing them all lunch.

So today I went out at 11 a.m. and did some shopping. I missed the lunch crowd. Whew.

When I returned, the third truck was gone. But two fellows were sitting in one of the trucks, gossiping. Yes, they were gossiping. Guys gossip. A lot.

The shots I heard were fired by some unauthorized trespassers on the back side of the farm, I learned. I will have to let Husband deal with that as he thinks he knows the culprits.

The two fellows said they were going to sit in the truck in the backyard for a while. "You're not going to see any deer sitting in the truck," I said.

They waved me a way.

Not too much later, I looked out the window in my office. Standing there pretty as you please were three does. I smiled to myself, then went out and knocked on the truck window. "The deer are in the front yard," I said.

They bailed from the truck quick enough, I assure you. I went back inside and watched them sneak around the house to see.

No shots were fired and the does eventually meandered into the woods.

That's the way it will be around here for the rest of this month.