Mmm... venison...
Warning: this post is rated PG-13 for gore.
I'm not sure if I've mentioned it to you guys before, but my dad goes hunting every autumn. To forestall any knee-jerk "but killing animals is bad!" reactions, let me say this: my family has immense respect for animals. That's one of the reasons we eat far more venison (AKA deer meat) than, say, store bought beef or pork. I mean, at least the deer got to live free and run around and enjoy life for several years before being killed, as opposed to being stuck in a pen and fattened up for two years before being killed and butchered by uncaring workers, right? Also, we use far more of the animal than they ever would. Sometimes we even give the skin to a leatherworker my dad knows for tanning and such.
Also, this time, I asked dad to save the sinew from the back of the animals for use at the fort next year. It's drying on a plastic clothes hanger in the kitchen right now.
Also, venison is delicious.
I admit that it's a little bit gorey to be doing the butchering yourself, but if you get squeamish about being confronted with the origins of your food, then you probably shouldn't be eating the finished product. My dad got three deer last week (and yes, he does have deer tags): a mule deer buck and doe, as well as a white-tailed doe. The buck was absolutely GIGANTIC, I swear. I didn't go out and take any photographs this time, because, uh, my dad had already skinned them, except for their heads, and it's a bit too much to be posting on this blog, I think. ;) Also, for some reason, according to my dad, almost all deer, when they die, stick their tongues out. Like, the stereotypical, sideways tongue position: :P It's kind of creepy. Also, my dad has hung them in the garage, so when I go in there from the house to toss something in the recycling bin they stare at you, dangling in the dim light.
Anyway, I just spent some time helping dad with the butcher paper, taping up the bundles of meat and labelling them (you know, MDB (Mule Deer Buck), Nov (20)10, tenderloin/stew meat/roast/whatever". But holy crap it just hit home again how HUGE that buck was. When you picture a deer, you almost think delicate, right? Especially the does? I've always really pictured does as being almost the same size as me, in the torso and neck, right? Well, that buck... Holy crap. I just helped dad make like three or four SEPARATE roasts out of his neck. The neck itself was like bigger than my own torso.
I should also mention that this beast was so powerful he almost took my dad out after the deer actually died. No joke. He and his friend (an old man who goes by the name of "Stoney") had parked the truck just downhill from the deer, and even after cleaning it out it was ridiculously heavy and hard to lift into the truck. So dad got on the truck bed to lift from there as Stoney went to lift from below, and when they actually got it in the truck bed after several heaves, because of the slope of the hill the body actually slid back, pushing dad back too, and the antlers (which are pretty sharp!) actually pinned around one of dad's legs. If it had been a few inches to the side... there are big arteries in the thigh area, and they were a few hours away from a decent hospital. It could have been bad. The deer's vengeful spirit, anyone?
I apologize if some people were a bit squicked out by this post, but I thought that I'd talk about something a bit stranger that marks Canadians as a bit different. Not all Canadians are even hunters, of course, and I make no pretensions at this being a purely Canadian endeavour! ;) I should also mention that most of the firearms owned in this country (I believe) belong to hunters and not necessarily to urban dwellers for domestic defense, as is the case in the states. But anyway I think that hunting something different that needs to be talked about frankly. It's not a weird fringe thing to be looked down upon by celebrities in their faux-fur coats.
Also, if you're living in the Edmonton area, we have loads of venison! Stop by if you want to partake; my dad is very generous at handing out roast and stew meats! :) He'll also break out the jerky-maker later on when we have a good sunny day. :)
I'm not sure if I've mentioned it to you guys before, but my dad goes hunting every autumn. To forestall any knee-jerk "but killing animals is bad!" reactions, let me say this: my family has immense respect for animals. That's one of the reasons we eat far more venison (AKA deer meat) than, say, store bought beef or pork. I mean, at least the deer got to live free and run around and enjoy life for several years before being killed, as opposed to being stuck in a pen and fattened up for two years before being killed and butchered by uncaring workers, right? Also, we use far more of the animal than they ever would. Sometimes we even give the skin to a leatherworker my dad knows for tanning and such.
Also, this time, I asked dad to save the sinew from the back of the animals for use at the fort next year. It's drying on a plastic clothes hanger in the kitchen right now.
Also, venison is delicious.
I admit that it's a little bit gorey to be doing the butchering yourself, but if you get squeamish about being confronted with the origins of your food, then you probably shouldn't be eating the finished product. My dad got three deer last week (and yes, he does have deer tags): a mule deer buck and doe, as well as a white-tailed doe. The buck was absolutely GIGANTIC, I swear. I didn't go out and take any photographs this time, because, uh, my dad had already skinned them, except for their heads, and it's a bit too much to be posting on this blog, I think. ;) Also, for some reason, according to my dad, almost all deer, when they die, stick their tongues out. Like, the stereotypical, sideways tongue position: :P It's kind of creepy. Also, my dad has hung them in the garage, so when I go in there from the house to toss something in the recycling bin they stare at you, dangling in the dim light.
Anyway, I just spent some time helping dad with the butcher paper, taping up the bundles of meat and labelling them (you know, MDB (Mule Deer Buck), Nov (20)10, tenderloin/stew meat/roast/whatever". But holy crap it just hit home again how HUGE that buck was. When you picture a deer, you almost think delicate, right? Especially the does? I've always really pictured does as being almost the same size as me, in the torso and neck, right? Well, that buck... Holy crap. I just helped dad make like three or four SEPARATE roasts out of his neck. The neck itself was like bigger than my own torso.
I should also mention that this beast was so powerful he almost took my dad out after the deer actually died. No joke. He and his friend (an old man who goes by the name of "Stoney") had parked the truck just downhill from the deer, and even after cleaning it out it was ridiculously heavy and hard to lift into the truck. So dad got on the truck bed to lift from there as Stoney went to lift from below, and when they actually got it in the truck bed after several heaves, because of the slope of the hill the body actually slid back, pushing dad back too, and the antlers (which are pretty sharp!) actually pinned around one of dad's legs. If it had been a few inches to the side... there are big arteries in the thigh area, and they were a few hours away from a decent hospital. It could have been bad. The deer's vengeful spirit, anyone?
I apologize if some people were a bit squicked out by this post, but I thought that I'd talk about something a bit stranger that marks Canadians as a bit different. Not all Canadians are even hunters, of course, and I make no pretensions at this being a purely Canadian endeavour! ;) I should also mention that most of the firearms owned in this country (I believe) belong to hunters and not necessarily to urban dwellers for domestic defense, as is the case in the states. But anyway I think that hunting something different that needs to be talked about frankly. It's not a weird fringe thing to be looked down upon by celebrities in their faux-fur coats.
Also, if you're living in the Edmonton area, we have loads of venison! Stop by if you want to partake; my dad is very generous at handing out roast and stew meats! :) He'll also break out the jerky-maker later on when we have a good sunny day. :)