No Deer, No Beer

All the rules of our house change during hunting season. 

It goes something like this.

• meal times shift to accommodate sunrise and sunset… you know, when the deer are moving
• our back deck becomes a camo air-out station
• it is pretty much ok not to use soap in the shower so you don't "smell"
• social agendas are put on hold in case the day has to be spent dressing a deer
• no playing in the back yard so deer think it is a safe place to rest
• no slamming doors of any kind
• no compost in the garden so there’s no chance “the Man” can say we’re baiting
• all adult beverages have to come in a camo can
• all two year olds must stand watch at the window for deer
• meal-time conversation is made up of hunt strategies (and somebody always smells like doe pee)

 and MOST important. 

It is never mentioned that momma still has the largest whitetail antler rack in the house.

But, a rather large buck was spotted in our back yard last week and I have no doubt that my men have buck-fever.  I think I might even have buck-fever. I haven't gotten to sit out in a stand for awhile, but this year I have given The Sportsman a set amount of time to ”harvest” Said  buck before it is my turn. 

That is The Sportsman's Wife with buck-fever laying down the law right there.

 Until then.

No deer, no beer.