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.

2 comments:

Kathy's Klothesline said...

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

Hillbilly Mom said...

Kathy,

Farmer H could not have said it better himself.