Dear Farm Journal,
This afternoon, Rufus and I hiked across the fields down to the cabin for a change of scenery and the dogs trailed happily behind. Rufus has been preparing this primitive dwelling for “hunting camp”, a.k.a. the weekend of the gun opener, when we are joined by a small crew of friends and family for a few days of hunting and shenanigans. Rufus was working on the door and we had just built a robust fire when my phone rang. It was my dad, still in the woods bow hunting (whispering) that he had gotten a doe and we should be on our way to come pick it up. I have mixed feelings about eating meat in general which I won’t get into. I rarely eat it, but when I do, it’s almost always venison, and this year I would like to learn to can it, so off we go. I’m internally bracing myself for processing deer #1. I’m going into it with a thinly veiled layer of repugnance, and it’s safe to say I’m pretty grossed out. However, I also believe, if you choose to eat meat, you should personally experience what it is like to butcher an animal, at least once. So, here we go.

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