Gary brought his deer home and we started the butchering. We don’t send the deer to a butcher – we do it here. A friend of mine years ago was just horrified when her husband would kill a deer. He’d have to send it home with someone else because she didn’t want it. She refused to cook deer meat. When she found out I helped the guys cut up the deer and cooked it she nicknamed me “Laura Ingalls.” That’s okay.
I didn’t grow up with hunting. But the neighbors always went hunting and I remember them hanging the deer in the garage an butchering it. Now, we do the same at our house.
Here’s a photo of the steaks we’ve cut today from Gary’s deer. We’ll eat them tonight grilled, and for the rest of the winter.