Harry got his very first deer license this year. Totally pumped to wake up at the butt crack of dawn to shoot an animal..BOYS!...and he wore his tennis shoes, not boots, tennis shoes and then walked into MY house with mud up to his knees because he had to walk and retrieve the poor thing. Ya know about fish stories, I call this THE deer story.
There were a bunch of the victims lying in the field and they happened upon them. Harry had the shot for the big doe but didn't figure the damn thing would actually run away and he would have to figure that in before he pulled the trigger so as big momma doe got up and ran so did her baby boy...and the frickin bullet hit the poor thing.
SO Harry got his deer. Small. But he got one. I am just not sure I can eat it after knowing its Mother is out there looking for her baby. Hell, she probably didn't make it to the end of the day anyway.
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