Update: the buck scored 178.75…pretty durned big for a white tail. I’m curious to see how he dresses out!
So…we’re coming home from our weekend trip in KC. Big Boss was telling me something funny someone had told him, so we were yukking it up like a couple of kids. He had just said, once again, “Better drive slow. The bucks are in rut.” Uh huhmmm….
And there she stood…a doe with that “deer in the headlights-look”, not moving a muscle. There was nothing we could do but keep going as an oncoming car was within yards of both us and the doe. Our front right bumper took the hit on her rear.
Yep, another one got us. I spent yesterday afternoon taking the pickup to the body shop and then figuring out what exactly the garage guy wanted to do. Or not do. Problem was, his English was rusty and my Spanish was just as rusty. Besides, I don’t recall Miss Cole EVER covering words like “bumper” or “smashed” or “grill”. But we got through it with an interpreter of sorts. I hope I don’t end up with a ’59 Cadillac Seville grill on my Chevy pickup.
But we had poetic justice after all. Our youngest son got the Big One with his bow. It was only right. I mean…how many pickups can we go through around here? Gotta even the odds a little.
So, it’s time to get the sausage-making paraphernalia out. And order some casings and check the seasoning inventory. Thank goodness that’s a chore that the men in this family insist on doing. It’s like a family tradition…a rite of passage for the grands. And all I have to do is take out some cookies or hot chocolate. Yay! They even clean up the mess. Sort of…