Oklahoma Day Four

Like I mentioned in the last post, I woke up, stumbled to the bathroom and hugged the toilet. Then I repeated the motion several times. What a wuss. I have no excuse.

It must have been around 2 p.m. when I realized I needed fresh air. I geared up and embraced the cold weather outside. I decided to hastily walk within the boundaries of Kenny's backyard in an attempt to sweat the illness from my body, but in temperatures like 20 or 30 degrees sweat doesn't simply ooze.

The combination of fresh air and movement helped, but I wouldn't feel normal again for a few more hours. The picture above shows Kenny's backyard.

Here's an example of the roads around most of the towns we cruised through. Sometimes there's nothing for miles.

Everyone was slow to move, but eventually we gathered up the rifles and headed for Cleo Springs.

Today we were hunting for deer.

Kenny drives trucks too. He hauls over-sized loads of drilling equipment for oil. His boss owns a bunch of land and allows my dad and Kenny to use it when ever they want. They just can't shoot the cattle.

We parked along a dirt road and the weather proved colder than before. We added a few layers of clothing then started a walk through a field. The land was beautiful, but death lingered. I started shooting pictures of the cow bones we came across.

Kenny caught a glimpse of some wild turkeys, but we couldn't shoot them because our hunting licenses only allowed us antlerless deer.

Jeremy (below) is checking out a turkey through the scope.

Our walk brought us to an electrical fence used to keep the cattle in order. Since I was the shortest I was the most worried of a fried sack.

Soon after hopping the electrical wire, an old dilapidated house appeared through the woods. The home was occupied by the land owner's grandparents a long time ago. The structure was originally built sometime in the late 1800s. Now it's being used to shelter hunters.

Nothing inside resembled old country life. On the floor sat remnants of old age and in the walls the past hoots and hollers of bullet holes.

Hunting is similar to fishing in that multiple people wait silently for something to happen. The home slightly shielded us from the chilly wind, but everyone's fingers and face were still going numb.

Everyone sort of picked a section of house we were going to survey from. Then we stood quietly staring out into the woods.

Staring at the photo below, if you look at the first window to the right of my dad you'll see the window I spied through.



Below is a shot of the same window from where I was standing.

So here's where all my vegetarian and animal lover friends will be upset with me. I stood here looking through this window by myself. I enjoyed the view. I inspected the walls around me. I wondered what life was like for the people that used to live there. I wished I had land like this of my own.

Then I spotted them. I found some deer. For a quick moment I thought maybe I should pretend not to see them, but I also had this weird feeling of not wanting to let my dad and Kenny down.

I tried to get someone's attention without making too much noise. I snapped my fingers, but my gloves muted the sound. I whispered "hey," but no one heard me. Finally Jeremy came around the corner and I told him to get Kenny's attention.

Kenny arrived and I said something like, "I see a deer." He asked if it had any antlers. I said, "I don't think so."

Kenny said, "Well shoot it then."

By this time I was shaking a bit, but I situated myself on to one knee and tried to remember the lessons of holding a rifle from the day before. When I spotted the deer in the scope I was staring at the hind leg. I learned before that deer should be shot through the heart and that target was somewhere behind the shoulder.

The deer was walking while I tried to find the target, but I wasn't moving the gun fast enough. I realized the edge of the window would probably come into view if I kept panning to the right and I didn't want to unload a bullet into the wood, so I quickened my movement and found what I thought would be a sufficient target considering the window' s edge.

I fired. I went deaf. I saw the deer drop to the earth through the scope. I turned around and noticed the jubilant expression on Kenny's face. My dad entered the room shocked from the fire. He asked who did that. I answered it was me and, "I think I got it."

What an experience.

My feelings conflicted. Earlier I was close to puking my stomach out of my mouth and now I was an experienced deer killer, but then I was happy I could give my dad a moment extremely normal to him. He was proud. Kenny was proud. Later my grandfather would be proud. I have a feeling Jeremy was proud too, but he was also pissed he missed the deer he shot at.

The deer lingered for a few moments possibly waiting for their friend to get up. Jeremy took aim and fired. I think the shot went too high because the scope on the gun he used was set at 400 yards. The deer were only 30 yards away.

Here she is. In the background is the house I shot from.

We left after another hour or so because the cold started beating through our clothing. Kenny and I grabbed a hind leg and pulled the deer through the brush and loaded her on to Kenny's pick-up truck.

Next on the list of things to do after killing a deer is the weigh station. The deer weighed in around 65 pounds. Then we were off to Shurman's house/processing plant.

Shurman is a trapper. He sells fur and meat from all the animals he traps. He's also the local deer processor. He seemed very introverted. I tried saying hi, but he wasn't accepting any salutations from strangers this evening.

The first detail that caught the attention of Jeremy and me was the heaping mound of antlers and skeletons piled on a table. Then came the fury body parts scattered around on the floor and then came the dubious mounds of organ like material - innards.

At one point Jeremy thought he stepped on a rock, but when he looked down to investigate he realized he was stepping on the hoof of a deer. This place was like the set of a sick horror movie. I noticed a decaying deer hoof dangling from the rafters. We were blown away.

Apparently he's good though. He'll be taking care of packaging the meat, which will then go to my grandmother. He charged $60.

After that we drove home to Watonga, talked about our day and slowly fell asleep.