Huntin' Season

Deer hunting season (gun: not bow or muzzle loader) has begun here in Vermont, bringing the autumnal experience here full circle just in time for Thanksgiving. Added to the natural sounds of autumn--south moving geese, leaves crunching underfoot, rain pelting the windows--are the sounds of gunshots in the woods. It is not, needless to say, a good time to go hiking, at least not without being clad head to toe in bright orange.

The gunshot phenomenon is a funny one. As Ivan put it after he came in from an early morning, first day of the season hunt on Saturday, "I saw 2 deer, 3 cars, and heard 20 shots before 8am." His mother soon added, "Well, when you hear 5 shots, the first two are actually aimed at something. The other three are just because someone's pissed off." Well, yes.

At any rate, there is no venison in our freezer as of yet, but Ivan has plans to be out every morning this week before work. I think he's become infected with some sort of virulent hunting disease that has something to do with testosterone and clearly makes him ever so slightly insane. I guess I'll get my husband back in two weeks, when the season's over.