The deer on our property have a little cut in the woods that I call the Deer Highway. It's actually the cut made for the septic lines going from the pump tank up to the septic field. Doesn't "Deer Highway" sound nicer?
OM came over with his eldest. Quinn was beyond overjoyed at this, as dad is much more boring company. Q and OM's son started playing merrily, and OM went to stake out an on-ramp onto Deer Highway.
Of course, the deer he saw earlier didn't come back--it was one of the ones from the other neighbor's property that came up past the pond, behind him, then beside him...approaching six feet away.
He didn't dare turn to shoot, or they'd spook and flee. He set himself for an offhand shot, lowered his cheek to the sight, and let fly, mortally wounding the first deer--and no doubt severely freaking out the second one.
Unfortunately, that sort of off-hand shot isn't one that gets regularly practiced. The recoil drove the safety into his cheek, below his eye, cutting an impressive inch-long gash.
Q, prettypammie, OM's son, and I all came out to watch the field-dressing. Q was remarkably un-freaked out by the whole thing, and listened to the explanations of what he was looking at. I mistook the liver for a lung, of course, until OM pointed out that he hadn't cut through the diaphragm yet. Okay, so I'm not much for that whole anatomy thing.
Anyway, we got an ice pack on OM's face, the carcass loaded up in the truck, and the excitement was over.