The Great Hunt

Here are some photos from the great hunt. Kendall and Leonard were gone for most of a week. We joined them at their cabin for about 24 hours. It took a couple hours to get to the cabin. We drove for over an hour, then walked a trail, then boated across a long lake. We were really out there.


Here's the camp they used. It was closed for the season, but left unlocked. And yes, they did have permission (of sorts).



Inside the cabin lit up by propane and heated by woodstove.



We're warming ourselves by the fire.



Kendall took a mascot along on the adventure. For awhile, it looked like this would be the only moose they would see, but....

If you are brave, look at the next post.

The Moose

Warning: If you are a person that doesn't like to look at gross and/or dead things, do not proceed.



Meet "the calf."






Kendall getting his marinated jerky ready to smoke.

My creative and innovative husband made this smoker and is learning how to use it.


Packaging the smoked meat.


The neck. Oh yummy.

We processed the meat on our own. (And I can say 'we' because I helped for several hours after Leonard and Twila left.) Kendall and Leonard cut it up and put it all through the grinder once. The next day Kendall and I added spices for sausage and bologna. We re-ground it and put it into intestinal packages. (Yes, some real and, thankfully, some not-real intestines.)

We ended up with a lot of meat. According to my calculations, we have 7 packages of breakfast sausage, 6 packages hamburger, I-don't-know-how-many packages ground sausage, 10 large rolls of summer sausage, 11 packages of ring bologna, 6 pounds of jerky, and I-don't-know-how-many roasts. And that's not even all the moose! Leonard and Twila also have a lot of it.

I'm thankful for all the meat.

And did I mention that Kendall still has a bull tag he can fill? That means that one of the good things about getting a moose (hunting being done) does not apply in our situation.

Happy Halloween!

This is what we did this morning.



Yummy. The season's bounty. (Here's to hoping it's not actually here to stay.)




Uh-oh. I'm about to be snowballed!




Duck!

Dryden

Today I got to go to Dryden ALL BY MYSELF. As I've said before, trips out of town can turn into a horribly rushed, stressful situation. But today, I got to go alone and not worry about anyone waiting on me and not having to waste time waiting on someone else at Canadian Tire. (I think I may have just offended all Canadians and Canada itself with that wasting time comment. Canadian Tire seems to be a national treasure.)

The interesting thing about this little town 2 1/2 hours away from here is how completely unremarkable it is to see other Red Lakers there. The first time I went I was so surprised to see other people from Red Lake in the same Walmart hours from home! What a shock! Imagine meeting you here! Oh. I'm obviously the new kid in town who doesn't know how this all works. In fact, apart from employees, I am almost as likely to run into someone I recognize in Dryden's Walmart as I am in Goshen's Walmart. Therefore, I feel just as self-conscious in the underwear section in Dryden as I do in Goshen.

I'm hoping to follow in my mother-in-law's footsteps and have a table at a local craft show. (Although I don't plan on making $1000 by selling homemade nightgowns like she did.) I set my sights a bit lower and more realistic for me. She gave me some good ideas and I'm going to try my hand at aprons and pajama pants. I'm also hoping to try some evergreen arrangements and other little odds and ends. And if they don't sell, I guess everyone I know will be getting an apron or a pair of pajama pants from me this Christmas.

So my excuse for going out of town was to buy supplies. I took a good book on CD and the 2 1/2 hour trip flew by. I sat in McDonald's (!) and read a magazine while I ate my Quarterpounder and FRENCH FRIES. I browsed Walmart uninterrupted for a very long time. I picked up Tim Horton's donuts for my 3 men plus a double cheeseburger for the big guy. (Yes, he wanted it even though he didn't actually eat it until many hours later.) And for my supper on the way home, I got a Blizzard to go. (Wow. As I read all the highlights, I realize they are very related to fast food.)

Anyway, I have yet to tell you the most exciting part of my trip. I was buzzing down the highway this morning and up ahead I saw the sillouete of a large moose crossing the road. Then another large moose with antlers crossed right behind it. I ended up stopping on the road and watching them for a little while. They were so close to me. The bull was 20-40 yards away from me. (I have no concept of distance, so I am leaving a wide margin of error, assisted by Kendall telling me how far he thinks it is from here to the neighbor's house.) The bull was quite interested in me sitting in my little car. He turned to face me directly and stood there watching me. I thought he was going to charge. If I was Kendall I would have tried to call him and get him riled up. But I'm not Kendall and I was embarrassed to try to call because he would have surely known that I was an imposter and may have charged me just because I was making annoying noises. Besides, for those of you who have heard Kendall's moose call, you will know that it's just not lady-like. Anyway, it was so neat to see. Moose are very interesting animals to look at. And large.

And I'm mostly thankful that that was my only moose sighting of the day. I certainly didn't want to meet up with any as I was coming home on wet roads at dusk.

So that was my day. Tomorrow I will be working on my first pair of pajama pants. Maybe I'll post a photo if they turn out exceptionally good or exceptionally hilarious.

Mrs. Moose Hunter

I didn't know about one little part of the job description when I signed up to be Mrs. Moose Hunter. No one told me about this little part. In fact, I think Mr. Moose Hunter is a bit surprised himself.

You see, moose season opened last weekend. Thanksgiving happened to fall on the same weekend, but Opening Weekend has far more importance than thanksgiving day. The attendance at our Sunday service was strangely low. Kendall, however, was not out moose hunting. He and I hosted a Thanksgiving meal on Sunday, then he worked Monday through Wednesday.

While he was at work, I learned an important lesson. Up here, in moose country, if the real hunter is not available, the missus is expected to step in and talk hunting.

So, Wednesday morning, a hunter friend of Kendall's called. He had just spent 5 days out in the bush and was ready to talk about his hunting experiences. Oh, Kendall's not there? Well then, the wife's ears work. So we talked hunting. I have learned to hold up my end of the conversation fairly well and my interest in the subject isn't even all acting. I really am interested in how big a moose is and how much it weighs. Well, to a certain point. But I did my wifely duty and talked hunting until this buddy ran out of stories.

That evening Kendall was still working. I was at the same get-together as another hunter friend. He singled me out (as the wife of a Moose Hunter) and he and I had a good hunting conversation. I dutifully listened to his stories and even added my two cents.

The next day...another hunter friend and another hunting conversation.

Kendall has given me pointers. My first hunting conversation as Mrs. Moose Hunter didn't impress Mr. Moose Hunter so much. It was a few weeks before opening weekend and I gave too much information, too many specifics, about where Kendall would be hunting. So I rehearsed this line: "Oh, out Suffle Lake somewhere." Kendall has given me the stamp of approval on my later conversations as I've related them to him. Vague, but intriguing, hinting at my Mr. Moose Hunter's skill and bravery.

I'm happy to say that I'm learning the skill of conversing in "hunterese" and discovering the mysterious facets of being Mrs. Moose Hunter.

Ouch!

My toe hurts.

You see, just a bit ago I walked into the very messy living room where Mr. Evan was playing. He was holding a dart gun (which had already been confiscated from Mr. Eli this morning and which Evan had climbed up on a chair to sneak off of the top of the refrigerator a bit ago).

I announced with all the volume and showmanship of a circus ringmaster, "And now! Mr. Evan is going to demonstrate his great skill iiiiiinnnn.... cleaning up the living room!"

Skillful Mr. Evan looked most perturbed. Then he wound up and hurled his little plastic gun at me. Bullseye! It hit me right on the foot and hurt like a booger!

I said, "Ow!" then turned around and quickly limped out of the room because I didn't want him to see me laughing.

I went in my room and closed the door laughing hysterically (though it really did hurt- a lot). I could hear Evan outside saying indignantly, "I didn't want you to say that!"

Finally I got my emotions under control and went to have a little talk with Mr. Evan. Needless to say, the gun was re-confiscated and Evan didn't get as much help cleaning up the living room as he would have liked.

Guns are dangerous weapons!

And speaking of dangerous weapons, I just got to watch Evan "sneak" out of the house holding a hockey stick to scare away the cat we spotted in the yard. The lucky cat escaped with his life before Evan got within 15 feet of him. But Evan did turn around just before he came back inside and yelled out a menacing warning: "Get away kitty!"

Lively Conversation

I have to include a very brief video of the dessert conversation at the birthday party. It doesn't even begin to capture the snakes, snails and puppy dog tails. Except this loud and "hilarious" conversation consisted more of poop, pee and ear wax. (I'm not kidding.)

You'll have to use your imagination. The boys were all talking at once, cracking themselves and each other up, and in the hubbub, I was able to make out the words "pee," "poop" and "ear wax."

Oh help us all.