A Gift from our New Neighbors

On Saturday night I met our neighbors for the first time.  Casey has been helping these neighbors with one of their machines, however, I had not met them yet.  He was visiting some friends and he called me to let me know our neighbor shot a deer and didn't want the meat or the hide.  I called my dad to let him know and he asked me to skin the deer before it froze.  I could only imagine what our new neighbors would think when they met me now as I was going to meet them on my way to skin a deer that they had just shot, which, admittedly, is rather unusual for a girl.  I know a lot of people say this, but it is true with me: I grew up in an unusual family.  We didn't watch football or any sports of any kind.  I don't remember having time to watch much television at all.  My parents play music from the Civil War era - my mom plays the hammer dulcimer, and my dad plays the banjo and the fiddle.  He made nearly all of the instruments in their house.  They were always doing something, whether it was my mom researching genealogy, or my dad was off tracking or making arrowheads, arrows, bows, etc.  My dad has a multitude of hobbies, however something that started out as a hobby became a way of life so to speak.  He has been greatly influenced by Native American cultures - predominantly Lipan Apache - and has adopted many of their traditions.  He had a few friends who hunted over the years, but only hunted for the sport; not for the meat.  This left an abundance of wild game for us to consume - predominantly deer with the occasional elk, pheasant, and even buffalo.  My parents taught me to cherish the animal and to give thanks for giving its life so we could eat.  We used every part of the animal we could.  One moring I can remember waking up to a heart sack sitting in the sink and my dad asking me to roll it between my fingers until it dried.  The heart sits in a membrane, or a sack, which when dried can be used as a strong bag to carry small things in. 

I love animals and don't like the thought of hurting them, but the lessons my parents taught me about honoring the animal are lessons that I will carry with me forever.  Taking an animal's life, whether large or small, is not something to be taken lightly.  My parents taught me that you only take what you need and to never take an animal's life without remembering that it too has a spirit.  Eating meat is a part of the Circle of Life.  The deer eats the grass that grows from the earth, and turns that into energy to live, grow and thrive, just as we consume the animal to live, grow, and thrive ourselves.  Part of honoring the animal, as I mentioned above, is using every part we can - the meat, the bones, the tendons, hooves, and the hide.  This is where I came in.  After telling my dad that our neighbor shot a deer and we would be ready to butcher it the next day, he asked me to skin it before it froze.  I have seen so many animals skinned, and helped with the process over and over again; however I have never skinned one entirely by myself.  It was a little nerve wracking because I wanted to do the deer justice.  Furthermore, this was the first time I was meeting our neighbor, and I was off to skin a deer he just shot.  I'm sure I made an interesting impression....for better or worse.

In any event, it didn't take long to skin the deer, and thanks to a few pointers from my dad, I managed to get a nice, square hide.  On Sunday, my parents came over to butcher the deer.  Since it has been so cold here, my dad asked me to bring the deer into our laundry room to prevent it from freezing anymore than it already had.  I can only imagine what people driving by must have thought, watching us carry a whole dead, skinned deer into our house...

My parents have butchered many animals throughout their marriage, and have this process down to a science.  My dad cuts the meat, my mom trims the meat, and I seal the meat in a vacuum sealed bag and then lablel it.  Casey helped my mom trim the meat, and I packaged and labeled the meat.  A couple of hours later, our freezer was packed with roasts, stew meat, and steaks.   What a wonderful way to spend the first snowy day of the season!

My dad laid some tendons out on the counter for me to clean off.  They make excellent cordage and string. Before they left, he set up a stand so I could flesh the hide.  It is important to do this as quickly as possible so the hide won't rot.  I have helped with this process as well, numerous times in my life, however, again, I had never done this on my own before.  After some careful instruction and coaching from my dad, I was well on my way.  I am anxious to see how this hide will turn out.  I love the golden color the hide takes on when it has been tanned and smoked.  I know all of this probably sounds strange to many of you, but it is how I grew up...and I am proud of it.  My parents have taught me to give thanks for the gifts we are given, and to never take anything for granted.  I love animals more than anything, but I still eat meat.  I love venison, even more than beef.  Probably because that is what I grew up eating most of the time. To me, there is something special about knowing the animal that your meat comes from, and to be able to use every part to make moccasins, a purse, billfold, sheaths for your knives, and countless other items. 

On Sunday night we had a wonderful venison pot roast.  The meat just fell apart when I took it out of the oven.  Venison Pot Roast is my number one favorite meal of all time.  Someday soon I will post  the recipe.  It is my mom's recipe, and I am still developing her knack for getting the gravy just so.  I am so close though!