So I come home from Pat's this morning, and instead of going into the house, I went and loaded up the hay cart to start feeding the ungrateful heathens that comprise my herd. Mind you, I'm doing this in sweatpants and a Carhartt, and pretty much wanting nothing more than my bed and a cup of coffee, really not paying attention to anything except how annoying the Thoroughbred screaming in the round pen is. I wheel the cart down in front of the lakeside pasture, dig into my pocket for my knife, and cut the first string on the bale. I start cutting the second string and something shoves my elbow from behind. Now I know this shoving isn't a horse, because the horses are currently on my OTHER side jostling for position in the all-important who-gets-to-eat-first chain of command and generally being assholes.
Three things go through my mind in this split second:
1) Whatever the fuck just shoved me isn't one of my dogs. My dogs aren't that tall.
2) I already saw Tyler INSIDE of his pasture, so I know its not a horse.
3) Obviously, its a person and I'm now going to be abducted (well fuck, they'll bring me back after an hour of dealing with me, so I'm good there. If not, these are SO not the clothes I would have picked to have my dead body discovered in.)
So I do this creative backwards jump/180-degree turn away from the hay wagon and find myself face-to-face with this:
It is WAY to goddamn early for this.
Some vitally important information that needs to be shared here: I don't have a pet deer. I have a herd of wild deer that tear through my pastures on a monthly basis and destroy my hotwire fencing, but I've never really considered them "pets". Also, I work part-time for Bass Pro Shops, where the general school of thought is "If it looks like a deer, kill it, then figure out how to cook it."
It's 7:30am, I'm tired, and this thing looks delicious.
But the more practical side of me kicks in and says "You know, you're not going to win any cool points for jumping on a friendly deer and killing it with your bare hands like a goddamn warrior. That's not going to help your lady-like image." So although the Rambo-style hand-to-hoof execution would probably be WAY awesome and make for a great story, I decide to go the girly "AWWWW! She's so CUUUUUTEEE!" route and spend the next hour making friends.
By the way, should any of you unsuccessful hunters out there be going "HOW DID SHE DO THAT?!?!" Try Patriot 12% pelleted horse feed. The shit works!
I have a feeling its going to be one of those days.....