Tuesday, October 20, 2009
My husband has some weird ideas about what I might like. Flowers, now I like flowers. A surprise date, dinner and dancing? Lovely. He's done the dishes or the laundry for me? Hooray!
Dead deer on my car?
Not so much.
He found it on the road early this morning. It was still steaming. I'm sure it would have been fine if he had hung it up and bled it right away. But he just slung it on the hood of the car and went to work. Now, it's nearly twelve hours later and I'm not at all sure it will still be good.
It's still warm enough to have a tick on it, I saw that. They haven't left yet. It's mostly stiff, but the legs have some play at the joints. I don't know if it's going into rigor mortis or relaxing out of it. No puffiness yet. And there's barely a mark on it, just blood from the mouth.
It - she - is gigantic. Probably weighs at least 150, maybe more. What the hell, it will be good practice to cut it up, since we do have to butcher the goats pretty soon. If the meat doesn't look good to me, we can always feed it to the dogs.
Homero will be home any minute; I told him under no circumstances can he wait until tomorrow. He got himself into this; now he's got to deal with it RIGHT NOW.
And that includes digging the hole for the carcass.