Back-straps

"So, has Ken gotten his deer yet?" Empty asked.  'Empty' is my Brother-in-Law. His initials are M. T.

"Nope" Brooke said.

Brooke is one of our mutual nieces.

Ken is her husband and he is starting a new job on Monday (November 22). Ken and Brooke have two girls. One was three and the other was about six months old. Money is tight, especially for luxuries like meat.

"Well, I gotta deer and I was wondering if you would mind if I dropped off part of a back-strap" Empty shouted into his phone.

Empty's hearing wasn't was it ought to be. Consequently, I could hear both sides of the conversation.

"Nope. That would be fine. Just leave it inside the door" Brooke said.

"Not sure I want to open your door. Your dog is mean" Empty said.

"Tell you what. I will put it somewhere you can find it" Empty temporized.

The he hung up.

"You got a few minutes?" Empty asked me. He knew I was retired and he knew I would say "Yes". Brooke and Ken are some of my favorite people in the entire world.

I wasn't sure why Empty needed a wingman but it was almost lunch-time and I needed a break from deer hunting.

Back-straps, some disassembly required

I would be lying if I said this was a typical buck for these parts. While this might not be a trophy that would be published in national magazines, this (by local standards) is a big bruiser with plenty of meat on it.

Empty needed an extra guy to help winch it up, into the swing-set.

While I love my family and their generous impulses, I find myself in need of Ibuprofen and a wee dram of adult beverage.

This is one reason country kids are tougher than city kids. They are used to coming home from daycare and finding corpses hanging from their swingset.

And they cheer and clap their hands.