This was sitting by the checkout at the local chain book store, and in my hungover delusions, I was tricked by product placement into buying it one day, thinking I’d get some awesome pictures for my beerbox projects of log cabins or some shit. Mostly it was stupid, high class-minded bullshit about the Blue Ridge mountains, but it did mention some friends of our’s wilderness skills school for children. My oldest kid knows how to build lean-tos and carries a knife when she goes in the woods, and has a homemade bamboo cup and hand-carved spoon she’s made. If only she knew how to gut a deer, then we could start filling our freezer with more roadkill than we already do. A lot of times, when I find freshly struck deer, I’m on the way to work and can’t stop to dress next month’s dinner. It’s sad to think about how out of wack our priorities have become. I’m rushing off to pay some stupid fucking cellphone bill, when really I should just eat the fucking wasted doe on the side of the road and call it straight for the day.
Haha, we don't eat that much roadkill. You'd be surprised how hard it is to find freshly struck animals quick enough, and how difficult it is to hit deer along the road when you're really trying.
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