So….I’m sitting here wondering what to write about. I’ve written about hunting and drinking and playing poker recently. Is there, possibly, a story that encompasses all of these things, yet doesn’t show me in too much of an unflattering light? Why yes, I think there is…..with a small addition.
The first year I bagged a dear was my 21st of being alive. I spoke of that opening morning here. We don’t need to get into that again. (That is the part that includes poker.) I don’t remember what day of the week it was, all I remember is pulling the gun up and aiming behind the deers shoulder, and pulling the trigger. My aim was a bit off, so I hit her a little further back than recommended. So, instead of falling right there on the spot, like the other two did, she took off. She didn’t get very far, but my old roommate did have to crawl under some brush to retrieve her.
After getting her pulled out to a good spot I commenced the “gutting” process. What you, usually, do is cut off some scent glands on their hind legs, and then go to the rest. (I won’t put you all through that.) After this was done I dragged her up to the house, where we strung her up and skinned her. What we always did was cut the back straps ourselves, and cook those up that night. This was the loin part of the deer, comparable to pork tender loin or a beef filet. It was the absolute best part. After that we would take her to the butcher.
The place that we used was over in a nearby town, and it was ran by a bunch of Amish guys. There have been people swear by them, and others have spoken out against them with conviction. I’m somewhere in the middle, as they never really did me wrong. Now, it usually takes a week or two for them to get everything done that you want. All I had them do was make it all into “burger”, so it didn’t really take that long. After I received the phone call, my roommate and I headed that way. We walked in and told them I was there for my deer. They said okay and ducked out back to get it for me. They brought it out in a large black trash bag, that was only about a quarter of the way full. When he handed it over to me he said “Ah, got you a small one, didn’t ya?” Yeah, everyone but me found this surprisingly funny. Because of that I’m going to tell you about these Amish guys.
I’m not too worried about telling you anything, as I’m sure they won’t see it. And if they do, no big deal. They go by Ben and Mose (short for Moses). They get around too, but not that way. Back in my partying days it wouldn’t be a surprise to see them out and about, at a party or a bar, on any given day of the week. They never drove though. They always had a girl pick them up and drive them around for the night. And this always ended being an attractive girl at that. They loved their cigarettes and dark beer, along with shooting pool and the song Cotton Eyed Joe. They were good pool shots too, well, good for a couple of Amish guys. The bad thing is when you’re in a bar and that particular song came on, and you were shooting pool with them, they would always leave you to go “high kick” dance along with all of the ladies. Not to mention they also enjoyed all of the “line dancing” songs too.
The first time I visited the VFW, after I had quit drinking for good, they were there. I went in on a Tuesday to visit some friends who I knew would be there for pool league. League was finished and the partying had begun. Some of the friends I went to meet used to call me Hagar Bomb, because of my penchant for ordering Jager Bombs for all of the my friends. All they knew is that they hadn’t seen me for a while. They were already on their way off the deep end, and offered and offered and offered. They didn’t know any better at the time. A few minutes after I got there they all headed out to the parking lot to partake of some moonshine. I had done that ONCE in my life. Never again, even if I had been drinking at the time.
I’ve only seen those guys a few times over the last year of so. I’m not sure if I miss them or not. What does it mean if you’re not sure? Maybe I’ll see them at a Subway or something. That is a whole other story though.