Deer season came and went, without a buck to put in the freezer.
The irony of this, of course, is that the day before my hunting season started, my dog was grumbling and looking out at the driveway, where I saw a lovely little buck, just inside the driveway gate. He was just standing there, watching and listening, grazing occasionally on the long grasses along the fence. Eventually he made his way up onto our mountain, where it is clear that he disappeared into thin air for a week.
And then, after spending a week watching out every window, driving all over looking for deer, and even tromping up the mountain in eight inches of snow, wearing a skirt and carrying a rifle in a last ditch effort to find a deer, I look out the living room window the morning after hunting season ends and there's a little buck, walking along the ditch at the fence line, grazing with a couple of does. It would've been about a 25 yard shot from the balcony of my bedroom. But he was safe, hunting season was over. I'm pretty sure he knew it.
Last night though... last night takes the cake for irony. It was nearly midnight when I woke up to a sound of something banging around on the front porch. Scared the heck out of me, as no one wants to hear anything that close to their front door in the middle of the night. Our dog wasn't impressed either, and started growling and barking. Andrew got up and went to see what was going on while I looked out our bedroom window, which overlooks the porch. As he makes his way down the stairs, I watch a small herd of deer scatter off the front porch and back out the driveway. Several others followed. We went back to sleep, hearts racing after waking up in such a startling manner, only to have it happen again an hour later.
This time, I walked downstairs, turned on the porch light and looked out the window. There was a four point buck, munching away at one of the pumpkins that had been decorating the porch. He was knocking over flower pots, trying to shove his antlers into the little space where the pumpkin had fallen. I opened the door, and off he went.
Two days after hunting season ends, and I'm shooing a buck off of my front porch.
It's almost hilarious. But it would be more hilarious if I'd have had a venison steak for dinner, first.