Some of Ben Shrader's bucks on the Cudde Back camera.
It's Terrific Tuesday again. How's everything in your neck of the woods?
Deer hunting season is upon us and as of Saturday, rifle season has begun. Today is also my late mother, Blanche Mills Thomas 90th birthday, though she succumbed to cancer at the age of 67. Tis been a while since my mother walked on this Earth. But while she was here-- she hated deer season.
Daddy couldn't say no to folks who wanted to come and hunt on the farm. Back in the 70s and 80s deer were not as plentiful as now, Momma just like my brother today, wanted to keep the deer for the home folks. Daddy wanted company. Deer season was a big deal to him and other men dressed in blaze orange and perhaps arriving with a snoot full of bourbon stashed in the trunk of a car, were harbingers of what was a joyous event for Daddy. Male bonding ala deer hunting.
Some people that we only saw once yearly during deer season, would arrive often with another friend in tow and well, pretty soon the woods filled up. Mom fed them deer stew and allowed they could stay in the basement to get warm but was really happier when they left. In those day "Opening Day, a Monday, was a school holiday in Botetourt County. Sometimes the men killed a deer, but mostly not. My mother fretted for the two weeks of season over what she called, "Those nutty hunters." Daddy ignored her.
Back in the day, road hunters were not uncommon. Joe Roanoke would drive down Route 600 and see a deer in our Posted/ No Trespassing field and take a shot at the deer any way. We watched one fellow walk over and pick up a doe he killed and start to dress her in our field. Momma called the Sheriff, but Roadie was gone by the time they got there.
The scariest moment I recall during deer season happened when I was a seventh grader waiting for the school bus. A guy in a gold pick-up truck stopped about twenty yards from me, leaned across his truck and fired up into the pine woods across the road from my house. Once again, it was our land and posted. Mom came flying out of the house yelling, "My husband is up there you idiot!" He turned and said to her a gnarly, "Take it easy, lady."
About that time, Daddy's infamous blue streak came hurtling across the field as he strode with his 30-30 rifle up in the air and he began firing at sky. He called that road hunter every name he deserved. He ended with "I ought to shoot you myself you dirty @!!#$!" Road hunter jumped into his gold pick-up and me being the smarty pants as always yelled, "Take it easy, man," as he floored the truck and went off into the sunrise.
Thankfully I only witnessed that once in my life, but I have never forgotten. Don't bother to ask if you can hunt or fish or run your bear dogs on the farm. "No, No and absolutely, No." We had enough of that to last a life time way back in the dark ages.
As for my mother? I have never stopped missing her-- sadly she died while I was pregnant with my first child, but I have a feeling she has watched me for years from the heavens above.
Mom was a great cook. Here is her all purpose venison stew made on the stove in our basement for all of the years of my childhood to feed us and the invited deer hunters. Enjoy!
Momma's Venison Stew
1quart home canned tomatoes ( store bought will do)
1 quart tomato juice
8 cups water
At least 1 pound venison (or a neck bone with meat-- the bone will pull out and you have lots of meat left) cut into bite size pieces
2 cups chopped potatoes,
1 cup chopped carrots
1 cup chopped celery
2-3 small whole onions, skin peeled off
1 pint green beans
1 pint corn
1 tsp garlic powder, 1tsp chili powder
salt and pepper to taste
Stew all day on low heat (or in a crock pot.) Serve with saltine crackers.
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