TO MANITOBA VIA KANDAHAR

Where the heck does the time go? It seems like just yesterday I was writing my last entry about my Saskatchewan buck, and now here I am in Manitoba. You know, I think that WAS yesterday. Or was it? I have been on the road for over six weeks and just shy of twelve thousand kilometres, and my brain is pretty much fried. Of course, that could be due to those cursed jello shooters at Cold lake.........

I think that WAS yesterday. For sure, it had to be yesterday, when it rained about two inches at Ray and Judy’s place. That part of Saskatchewan generally measures its rainfall in tenths of an inch, but I am bringing all sorts of oddball weather with me, clear across the country. In fact I think I should be getting a government subsidy for bringing hot sunny weather to the western provinces and the Yukon, and for bringing life-giving rains to Pump Handle MB and Saskatoon SK. I must look into what govt programs exist to reward endeavours such as this. I might need to claim that I ride the special bus, or am a member of an abused minority. Heck, that is TRUE!!! I am a middle-class older white Anglophone male with a large belly and thinning hair, but who wants fat hair (as Spike Jones used to say). We are probably the MOST abused minority in Canada. Note to self: write a letter to Stephen Harper about this.

Anyways, so it was yesterday. We butchered up the buck, and I left most of it with Ray and Judy, taking only the loins with me for future enjoyment. I pan-fried the liver for last night’s dinner, then also stuffed and baked the heart (wrapped in bacon, of course), made a venison barley soup for my hosts with the neck, and today cooked the tenderloins for brunch. All as it should be, and those of you who have been deer hunting with me lo these many years will recognize the pattern. Except for the giving the meat away part. But the freezer onboard the camper is not big and I was running out of time, so I passed on doing a pressure canner load to bring home. If we get to 31 Dec and the Ontario deer season dies without me putting any venison in the freezer, “I surely will regret it.” (quotation from Robert Otis, aka Tex).

There is no particularly good way to unload a muzzle-loader except by firing it, and both of us had loaded guns, so Ray and I decided to shoot each other’s smoke poles at a couple water-filled jugs on his back forty. Score: Jugs 2, hunters 0. Now Ray is quite an accomplished shooter and indeed biathlete, but he was not hanging on to Old Betsy when he shot, and he punched a pretty spectacular hole into his forehead when my gun’s scope kissed him. As in blood gushing down his face, and me with no freakin’ camera again. Ray correctly predicted that Judy would NOT inquire about his well-being once she saw the gash, but would rather remark on the fact that the family picture was to be taken this afternoon, and what did he think he was doing opening a gash the size of a coke can in his noggin. Old married couples can often predict their partner’s probable words and actions, and Ray hit a home run on that one. Before I left their place, I took a few pictures:

Ray and Judy

Ray and yours truly

Judy and Mister Universe

Emma the wonder dog

And so I was off to Grandview MB, where I eventually arrived this evening and where there is no WiFi connectivity in the municipal campground where I am staying. But I DO have electricity so am scribbling this blog in Word, and saving it to post when I can.

Enroute, I detoured through Kandahar. So like my oldest son and many other friends and colleagues, I too have spent time in Kandahar. I reckon my tour in Kandahar lasted about five to ten minutes, so it just might be the shortest recorded Kandahar tour. I wonder if I can get a medal for it. Probably yes, who was that Canadian General who admitted he was not eligible to receive a medal for some theatre or other but they gave it to him, so by golly he cant give it back! Kandahar:

I almost forgot, I promised to post pictures of my Saskatchewan record book buck. Here he is:

Buttons and I

Alas, poor Buttons, I knew him well

As you can see, he is one for the record books as Saskatchewans SMALLEST ever buck taken with a muzzle-loader. Now those of you who read my last entry and thought I was talking about a BIG buck should go back and read my words carefully. I never said he was big, just that nobody had seen one this size before. Small is a size. And I did NOT count his antlers until he was dead and I saw that he was a button buck. Buttons was born, and died, in the Year of Our Lord Two Thousand and Eleven. And yes, if you think I was deliberately playing with your head, I stand guilty as charged. But I sure enjoyed doing it.

Doug