Friday, November 27, 2009

The Bottomless Gift

Farmer H got an 8-point buck. Notice I didn't say he shot an 8-point buck. Farmer H doesn't hunt. So when he called me after school on Wednesday and said he got an 8-point buck, I was eager to hear the latest installment of the Farmer H Unbelievable Coincidence Saga. The same saga that brought us the wild boars for Farmer H to butcher into bacon, the Hatfield & McCoy shotgun incident, and too-good-to-be-true Free Hairwad Hot Tub giveaway. The gist of this story is that Farmer H now has an 8-point rack hanging in his MiniMansion down by the creek.

Here's how it went down. A neighbor from up the road stopped Farmer H, and told him that he had a big deer laying on his upper 10 acres. That's the land we bought as an investment for #1 and The Pony, which does not adjoin our Mansion 20 acres. Farmer H drives past it regularly on his way to and from work, but he's been off this week. Farmer H went to investigate and found a big ol' buck laying there dead. As Farmer H put it: "He looked like he'd been gut-shot."

Farmer H called the game warden. Or the Missouri Conservation rep. Or whatever name they go by.

I found a dead deer on my property, and I'm going to cut off the antlers.
Funny how you found that dead deer the day after the season ended.
I wouldn't have called you if I shot it myself. It's on my land. Nobody would know. Why would I turn myself in?
Why are you calling now, if nobody would know?
I want to do things right. I found a dead deer, and I want the antlers.
I'm just kidding you. I'll give you a number.

That's so in case a conservation agent catches Farmer H stroking his rack, Farmer H can prove that he didn't take the deer illegally. I don't know what Farmer H did with the rest of the deer, but he went and sawed off that 8-point rack. I know, because I was sitting at the kitchen table peeling eggs for my famous Thanksgiving deviled-egg side dish, and Farmer H strolled in the back door proudly holding out that bloody rack. I sent him packing. He came right back without the rack to brag about it. "Who's minding the rack? Those dogs will be on it." Farmer H said they would leave it alone, but he beat a hasty retreat within a minute or two.

Farmer H. Big Game Hunter. Supplier of endless blog posts. The gift that keeps on giving.


Kathy's Klothesline said...

All men need to stroke their rack now and again......

Hillbilly Mom said...


Farmer H could not have said it better himself.