Venison Feast...Not
Posted: Wednesday, September 21, 2011
by Jack H. Schick
My wife’s only been in two car accidents (Unless you count the two vehicle totaling roll-overs. But, I was driving for those). One of her crashes was pretty bad. An uninsured, drunk driver t-boned her, drove her across the intersection, pushed her up over the curb and sidewalk and pinned her against the side of a building. She wasn’t hurt, but the van was in pretty bad shape. Luckily it was brand new so they went ahead and fixed it. Her other accident ended up costing only about a hundred bucks over the deductable to fix (that means they paid $100, I paid $500 and they raised my insurance rates). On the way to work one night, she hit a deer.
Over the years, I’ve spent many hundreds of hours hunting deer. I’ve come home skunked most of the time. I like venison (For a long time, my wife wouldn’t cook or eat anything I’d killed, but she’s started to come around on venison. If she doesn’t have to see me clean, prepare or cook it, she likes a good steak). If I see a fresh dead deer along the road, and there are over 40,000 of those each year in PA, I consider it as a lucky find. I figure I’m clearing a dangerous obstacle off the road, I’m saving some Bambi hugger or fragile kid from having to see it and I’m getting a pile of fresh meat in the freezer.
My wife was working the 11 to 7 shift up in Allentown back then. (I found out later)…She was about six miles up the highway when a whitetail doe decided to try to make it across the five lane road. She smacked it good with the passenger side front, blowing out the headlight and breaking the grill. The deer flew forward and down, skidded along then got up and stood there for a minute. When she got out of the car it ran down over the berm and was gone.
When the phone rang, I wondered who could be calling at that hour and guessed it must be her.
“It’s me. I’m all right.” She was a little out of breath. I could tell she was excited.
“What’s going on?” I asked
“I hit a deer,” she said. “The car isn’t too bad. A headlight is out but it still drives okay. After I’m done with the police I’m going on to work,” she said
I then asked what seemed to me to be the next logical question, “Did you get the deer?” I figured I might have to quick get dressed and run up there with the truck to pick it up.
“No, I didn’t get the deer! It ran away,” she seemed a little ticked off.
“What’s the matter,” I innocently asked.
“Did I get the deer?” She was actually yelling. “You don’t ask if I’m okay or if the car is wrecked, you ask me if I got the deer!”
“You told me you were okay!” I yelled back. “You told me the car still worked!”
“No! I didn’t get the G-- d--- deer! I’ll drop the car off at Bud’s (our mechanic), tomorrow.” She hung up on me.
I left for work before she got home so I called her about eight o’clock to see what Bud had said. I hoped she wasn’t still mad. I’d just figured that if I was going to have to pay for car repairs, I didn’t want somebody else to get the deer if it was still there. She answered on the third ring.
“It’s me. What did Bud say?” I timidly asked.
“Maybe $500. I told him to go ahead and fix it.” She did seem still mad.
“What’s the matter?” I was afraid to ask but did anyway.
“Guess what Bud said when I called him this morning to ask him if he could look at the car because I hit a deer,” she asked.
“How would I know?” I said. I figured it was something like ‘cash up front,’ or ‘two weeks for parts.’
She actually chuckled, then said, "He asked me... ‘Did you get the deer?’ I’m afraid I yelled at him.”
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Top-level comments on this article: (2 total)Did you get the deer? Hello. Didn't you hear it ran off? Duh. Just kidding Jack. Nice story. Well not a nice story - poor deer and all. Your poor wife too. I'm pleased she's OK and I'm also pleased that the deer was OK.
Question. How can you begin to tell if it's a fresh kill? I surely think if it's killed by a car, isn't the meat all beat up or bruised? You can't eat it if it's in summer? What do I know.When it's no there when I go to work, and is when I go home; or when I see it hit. Yes you lose some meat and it can be a mess butchering
This one really made me smile. Say hi to Bud for me .Spending your Saturday with me? Thanks
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