We spent this past week up at our farm. One of the things we do there (and by "we," I mean The Husband) is hunt. We arrived at the farm on Monday afternoon and The Husband promptly went out to hunt deer. The Boy stayed home and helped The Grandma. The Girl and I went out for pedicures.
Tuesday morning, The Husband went back out. That afternoon, he called me to tell me he'd shot a deer, but needed help tracking her. I loaded up both kids and off we went. We had NO luck at all. No deer, no arrow, no blood...nothing.
Wednesday morning, The Husband went back out, but this time, he took both kids. They were very eager to go. He was not planning on actually hunting per se, but he had the kids to show them. He put The Boy in a tree stand and kept The Girl with him.
Shortly after getting settled, The Girl whispered to The Husband, "Daddy! Daddy!" The Husband shushed her..."Not now, Honey. It's time to be quiet." "Daddy! DADDY," she tried again, this time adding, "DADDY...BLOOD!" The Husband looked and sure enough, there was blood...a TINY bit of it. Here you can see The Girl pointing it out:
Well, imagine The Husband's surprise! The Husband and The Girl headed toward The Boy. They were going to try to track the deer. They looked a bit, but decided to come home and get ME first. WHAT were they thinking?! OK - in all honesty, they came home to use the potty and eat, but I'm going to stick with my story.
I got dressed and off we all went to the farm to track the deer.
We tracked her for a good 300 yards through the woods to a clearing, where, somehow, the arrow had worked its way out of the doe. Problem was, there was no doe. In fact, once we came to the arrow, there was no more sign of blood. It's like she somehow removed the arrow and disappeared. It was terribly frustrating for us all.
I'd always heard fish stories of the one that got away, but never doe stories. As it turns out, The Husband nicked a tiny tree limb with the arrow so he did not hit the doe where he was aiming. Our best guess is he shot high and she somehow survived...or went VERY far before dying.
There was one kill for the week, though. Thursday night, I saw a possum in the garden. The Husband grabbed a shotgun and managed to kill the offending possum! He was huge, but not a trophy and DEFINITELY not dinner!
Maybe next time he'll have one for the wall. Lucky you. Hope y'all are enjoying your holiday time off - I know we are.
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