Doe, a deer

Finally, some meat in the garage.

My husband brought home a big doe Saturday night. He shot it in the morning and my son gutted it, then they went back out, the edge off.

Our thanks go to a cousin with private property, otherwise we would be without venison this year. On opening day the two of us were in Gladwin, in the rain and snow, staring at empty woods. Finally I looked to my right and there was a pretty doe, picking her way silently across the ground. With no doe tag, all I could do was watch.
She disappeared into brush and I stayed still, hoping she had friends. Nope.

Minutes later I turned to my husband, high up another tree and just close enough to see medium movements. I arced my hand back and forth over my head – roundhead, a doe. He nodded. He had seen her too, and another behind me several minutes earlier, but he was tagless too.

The next three days kept much the same pattern, no matter which of us were in the woods, or what county, Gladwin, Midland or Arenac. I think the does know which hunters they’re safe around.

We likely are done for rifle season. Something about having it end on a Friday, in a week with three hockey games, has a big impact.

So does that big doe hanging in the garage. Time to clear off the dining table and get out the electric knife. Gonna be a busy week.

This post originally appeared on, the online home of the Midland (MI) Daily News. Republished with permission.

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