Not Even Traditions Are Safe From Hate

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Shortly, and I do mean shorty, like within 40 minutes shortly, after publishing Our Family Thanksgiving Tradition the meat eating hunter haters started their barrage of literal crap. I was a prepared because I know their are many people who A) don’t hunt, B) don’t eat meat, and C) think they are better than people who do eat meat and/or hunt or both. I have tried to understand the freakish nature of not hunting, I have explored that subject allot here and in real life as well. I have tried to understand why people who live a meat free life believe that everyone else is doing it wrong. I have tried to consider that when I write about hunting or meat in general that it will not appeal to everyone. I have come to a conclusion bitches, I don’t care what you do in your life, as pathetic as I might think your life is, it is still your life to live, not mine. I have been told by a few friends that by having a blog I open myself up to negative feedback, negative comments, and exposure to negative people. Well, they were right, eventhough I didn’t want to accept that some people are assholes just for the sole purpose of being an asshole. Now, I know my own personal intentions are not to offend people, but I do know that people will go out of their way to be offended because my lifestyle is not theirs. This fact used to concern me and I felt I needed to approach it all with soft gloves all around so everyone would be on an equal playing field. Well, fuck that, fuck it until it bleeds out because the gloves have come off, no more love taps, no more pulling back on my jabs, from this point forward I’m going straight for the juggler. If you don’t like what I say, what I do, how I write, or anything else, be prepared to be splattered all over my blog. Used to be, a big FUCK YOU would suffice. But you bitches are greedy and selfish, you want more, you need more, your over-indulgence has become overly-obvious, and now I plan on turning up the heat hoping you get burnt to a crisp.

One of the latest e-mailers (spammer tracks back to a virus infected website) stated that I needed to blog responsibly. The fucktard went on to explain the I have not been writing responsibly since I invite controversy with every word that is written here. I suppose the fucktard is correct, there are people who, in general, look to be offended. I often remind such fucktards that just because you are offended doesn’t make you right. It doesn’t mean you are wrong either, it just means that you let something I wrote offend you because you look for things to be offend by so you can justify your views. Well, here is my view. Since you made the choice to click the link, no matter where you saw it, and visit here. You might have seen it on WordPress, Blogcatalog, Pinterest, Facebook, or Google+. Those are the 5 places I place a link to updates on my blog. So, since I have to “belong” to each one of those websites and have an account I know I have “members”, “followers”, and “fans”. If you are getting my links then you too are a part of one or more of those five communities. If today, right now, all of my numbers dropped to dead zero I would not close my doors and blow away like dust in the wind. I would continue on, I would continue to do everything the exact same way. Why? Because I have no plans to cater to whiney sniveling crybaby bitches who have nothing better to do with their lives except be on the internet bitching about “content” on somebody’s blog. But, without you, without the grand ol’ fucktard, I would have just a little less to write about because I enjoy exploring the content of e-mails from ill-informed fucktards.

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As I stated above, I had one meat-hater in particular try to explain to me that I was a terrible father for teaching my children barbaric traditions and skills. The fucktard goes on to explain that if we choose to eat meat why can’t we buy it at the store like normal people. So much to cover in those two small sentences. Readers here and people in my personal life know that we are hunters in my family. It has been these skills passed down generation after generation that keeps it alive in our family. My children have the choice, if they don’t want to hunt they do not have to. If they wish not to eat the meat provided by hunting, then they don’t have to. But, I doubt you will ever hear those words from my 3 children or my wife. We buy very little from the grocery store and annually we only buy about 5%-10% of our meat from the store. Why? 1) We don’t need to, 2) we have the means not to, 3) hunting to provide food for the year is the preferred way. One doesn’t get more “free-range” or “fresh” then putting an arrow in it yourself. I know the fucktards think all hunters are barbarians, and in a way, you are half right. We, as a family, are not special in any way, but we don’t trophy hunt, we don’t hunt just to kill something, we eat everything we kill. In my family we are bow hunters traditionally, a skill very few people still posses these days. But lets get back to the e-mail and how us killing our food is wrong. It’s wrong because this fucktards doesn’t agree with hunting or eating meat. I have never really understood, not that I’ve tried real hard, how a person doesn’t eat meat. I can see not hunting by people because most people are too big of a pussy to end the life of an animal. In fact, most people are too fucking lazy to hunt because their little life has consumed them in such a way that all other means besides the grocery stores seems to be a little out there in their opinion. Is that breeding? Is that the way they were raised? Is it because of where they live? Is it because they are comfortable in how ass backwards they live their life. Yes, I consider those who don’t hunt but bitch about hunting ass backwards. you wouldn’t be here if your ancestors were pussies and didn’t hunt to provide meat for their family, if they didn’t grow other food in the gardens, if they weren’t able to use an ax to chop wood, or if they didn’t have the balls to pull the trigger to defend the people and things they love and cherish. If they were all fucktards like we have today none of us would be here right now,

So what if we hunt. So what if we eat meat. So what that my children are well equipped to provide for themselves and others. So what that you are too fucking stupid to wipe the bullshit from your eyes so you can see that none of my life has diddlely dick to do with your life. The only way our paths cross is that you are too fucking stupid not to click the link to my blog. I challenge all the fucktards not to click my links, to un-friend me, to un-follow me, and to un-like me, and just move the fuck on. We will miss you, don’t get me wrong, but I want to help you onto the road to recovery. the first step is to admit you have a problem. Say it out-loud right now. I (state your full name) am a fucktard. I am addicted to being a fucktard. I can’t stop being a fucktard because (fill in the blank) and I am willing to take the first baby step right now to recovery so that one day when I reproduce I do not have fucktard offspring. Repeat that 100 times, look at yourself in the mirror while you repeat it over and over. After you have admitted you are a fucktard and you do have problems, then, and only then, can we move forward to help you shed the wool of being a contained sheeple. One day, one day you will want to hear the popping sound of your head coming out of your own ass. You will smell like shit but you will be happy once you stop looking thru your bullshit-o-vision glasses. Join us now, my brothers and sisters, let us take one another’s hand to have a moment in silent prayer. Whoops, that’s taking it a bit fucking far, their will be no fucking hand holding here. Now, do you feel better? No? Well, I can explain that to your simple simon little peanut fucked brain. That pain you feel in the back of your neck is your fucktard stupidity trying to get out, just let it out. When you see that little fucktard hit the floor then stomp on that fucker, smash it, grind it into the carpet, the wipe your shoes on your lilly white curtains and move the fuck on. Farewell fucktards, we are taking it all back. So, buckle up fucktards, hold on, shut, and get ready to be rode like the little bitches you  are!

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So, while all of you freaks are enjoying a nice Tofurkey Just known my family will be feasting on a smoked turkey provided my son’s dead accurate shot. I don’t knock the vegans and the vegetarians, they are doing their own thing, which is what we do because that is how we live. Be assured, y’all have your own traditions and we have ours. Yes, they might be different, and yes our opinions may differ about the differences, but in the end, we are all here sharing the bounties of this great planet we live on.

Our Family Thanksgiving Tradition

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For as long as I can remember I have went hunting on the weekend before Thanksgiving in an attempt to provide one, if not more, turkeys to prepare for our Thanksgiving feast. Even before I was hunting myself, I was tagging along, learning from my father, my grandfather, and my uncles. I was very excited when I turned 12 because  it was finally my time to join in on the hunt with my family. As the years passed on the tradition was carried on with my own children, it started with my oldest daughter (23 y/o now), my middle daughter (17 y/o now), and most recently with my 12 y/o son. He has accompanied me for many years and after turning 12 this summer he knew it was going to be his turn to bring home a turkey for Thanksgiving dinner. My family has a “secret” spot where we bow hunt for turkey. I was entrusted with the location years ago and 3 years ago the ownership of the land was transferred to me when my uncle passed away. This is one location friends never get to go, this is one place that is for family members only, and that tradition has been in place since the 30s and I don’t see it changing on my watch. For the last few years my son has been practicing his bow hunting skills and proved himself recently during bow hunting season when he had a very clean kill of a 10 point whitetail buck from 35 yards at ground level. A technically challenging shot for seasoned bow hunters. Lets just say he nailed it after a long road of education, patience, and dedication.

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The first part of the hunt always starts a few weeks before the season actually opens up. We set up stalks to see where the turkey are running so we can calculate the best places for us to set up later. As I stated before, we have been bow hunting this land for many, many years, and for the most part the turkey pass through the same spots by the river year after year, so that is where we start, year after year. There is no need to bait or place decoys because they have a healthy population in this area and a relatively easy to find if you actually know where to look. Granted, there have been seasons so stricken with drought that there were no turkeys, but they always come back sooner or later. My son has mastered the art of the stalk, he has mastered the art of taking pictures in the wild, flagging trees, and mapping out locations with and without using a gps. He like to spend time in the woods without a weapon as well, he likes the connection, and he appreciates that mother nature is willing to provide a great bounty to see that our family eats all year long. He learned early on that in our family we do not buy meat from the store, we hunt, and we provide 95% of the meat that is eaten by our family.

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This year, with my work schedule, the rest of my family went out opening weekend and have not returned because they hit their limits already. But, my son and my daughters have yet to go, until yesterday. The way it all ended up working out is my son and I drove out to our location late Saturday afternoon. With just enough daylight left we had time to set up our tent, get a campfire going, and get some food prepared. It was an anxious night for my son, I don’t think he slept at all because he was so excited, he has been waiting a very long time to be able to be the one who brings home the turkey we will eventually eat for Thanksgiving. With the exception that it was 40 degrees overnight, I slept just fine. At 4am I start feeling the jabs from my son, with a dad, dad, dad, dad. Is it time to get up? Is it time yet? Dad, dad, dad, dad. In the distance we could already hear the songs of the turkeys, it was time to get up, eat real quick, and disappear into the woods. At first light we were surprised to see many large turkeys feeding at the edge of the trees. It was very hard to move through the trees and brush because the leaf litter was very crunchy. As we came closer we started getting into the wet litter so we would arrive undetected. We were in place for about 30 minutes when my son was ready to take his first shot. Deep breath, release, breath again. He had made the perfect shot, the turkey dropped immediately. It was the perfect textbook shot from 30 yards. He quickly ran to his bird, assessed his breathing, there was none, so we knew he was dead. My son kneeled by the turkey, put his hand under his limp body, and offered a prayer. “Lord, thank you for this beautiful turkey as this turkey will feed my family and provide happiness for everyone. We thank you for providing this turkey, in your name we pray, amen”. It took me a moment, I was a bit choked up, as I wiped the tears from my eyes I realized my son understood his connection with the land, the animals, and mother nature. It was a beautiful moment to witness.

We packed up to head back to camp where we loaded the ATVs on the trailer, packed the tent, diluted the ashes of the fire, and put the turkey in the cooler in preparation for our travels home. Sunday night we dressed the 23lb turkey and set it to soak in a secret recipe of Wild Turkey, cranberry sauce, sliced oranges, a variety of mild peppers and seasoning, and just a pinch of my secret ingredient. This turkey will rest in this mixture in the refrigerator until late Wednesday night when he will be removed to join the others on my pit smoker for their 12 hour journey into smoked tenderness and bliss. Until then, this post will close.

Back To The Basics

Getting back to the basics is something few of us ever do. We can’t find the time to just “find the time” anymore. I found, for myself, I almost have to “schedule” myself some time to be able to just stop doing anything else. It’s not that my life is that busy, it’s the fact that I generally don’t make time for myself for some reason. As y’all know, I live in southeast Texas, so our weather is already warmed up into the mid 80s already at mid April. As you can see by the picture I took this weekend, where I live is greened up and already looking like summer. I like this view, I come here on occasion to watch the catfish, the turtles, the snakes, and all the wildlife. Why? It gives me a break. I watch and wonder where all the time goes. This spot is easy to get to and a good place to fish when you aren’t interested in catching anything. My property has this bend in the creek so I can sit here all the way to the left and see most of the rest of it to the right. What y’all don’t see is the 8 point buck that I followed out here. It’s hard to get super accurate and sharp pictures with a cell phone, but I did attempt to capture this magnificent beast on film. He has been hanging out at the back of my property for quite some time now, I see him daily, but I can never figure out exactly where he goes when he goes. My hope is that he continues to parade around and do as he pleases because he is safe here. Plus, my son and I already got a great buck a piece back in January during bow season. Incidentally, my son’s first kill with his bow, in fact his first deer ever. I can remember his excitement as we made it to the stand, he was happy to be together with me this year. He has gone in the past, but never to hunt, but to watch, to learn, and see how to make good and bad decisions. He handles his bow well these days, it was time. Thinking back now, I remember my first time, and nothing prepares one for the chill of fear that the force of the adrenalin causes. That takes a little time to “come down” from.

I find that I need to get away from everything every once and a while, maybe to reflect, and maybe to just be away. Granted, my wife knows where I am because I told her since I wouldn’t be having my phone with me. Which I did, it just wasn’t on for any longer than it took me to take the picture. For all intensive purposes, I was just unavailable enough to confuse people. Sure, I missed calls, I didn’t reply to texts I was getting, and in all actuality I really didn’t care too much. It was nice. At the same time, the 2 1/2 hours I was out there was just spent staring off into the woods. I also realized that I have some work to do back here before I lose a big chunk of my land due to erosion. That just might have to jump to the top of the list so I can get it done before it is too damn hot. I wonder now, as I sit here writing, why do we have lists and why do we torture ourselves if the list doesn’t get taken care of. I mean honestly people, I have a list for work, a list for home, a list for my shop, a list for my property, a list for the Boy Scouts, a list for the Lion’s Club, a list for my parent’s house, and then a general purpose catch all things that don’t have a list already. Why? I don’t ever see myself ever getting done with any of the lists. Instead of being “to-do lists” they should be called “wishful thinking lists” because most times that is what they become. I have given great consideration to making all the lists in my life just disappear. Poof! Gone! No more lists and no more finding time to rearrange time to accomplish tasks on the list. Sure, I will always need a shopping list for this or that, but I think that is more than plenty because it is time to trim the fat. I knew it was time to go because I saw my son coming down the trail towards me. He waived and he even whistled to try to get my attention, but I acted as if I didn’t see him or hear him. If he had something to tell me he would just have to get next to me, I was enjoying my last moments of nothingness. Eventually he made it to me and he began to explain that his mom thinks I have been out here long enough and it is time to come back in to cook dinner. I guess that is what I get for saying I would grill the steaks and potatoes. Oh well, I am done here anyways. My son asked what I was doing and why he wasn’t asked to join me. How do you explain that you need more time alone than a trip to the can provides? You don’t, you apologize as I did. He grabbed my bucked I was using as a chair and we headed back up to the house. It was a quiet walk until he noticed the big buck thru the trees. Too bad he just don’t get what hunting seasons actually are yet. Maybe we will go varmint hunting real soon. I have been craving grilled squirrel anyway. Don’t judge.

I realized just then that he and I spend allot of time together and I sure do hope he doesn’t pick up any of my bad habits. But then again, he will develope into his own person, he already is on that road. I see myself in him. People say that and I have always just passed it off or never payed attention. I think I have figured out what people like my mother are trying to say now. But, when I can see it all unfolding before me, slowly and measured, it is hard to actually focus on it. As he gets older I get it tho, he wants to be like me, do the things I do, and so forth. It is exactly how I felt about my dad. He is a few years older than I was when my parents divorced but is getting freakishly scary close to the age I was when my dad died. I wonder, still at my age, what life would have been like if he had not of died when I was fifteen. Where would we all be now? I know it is a foolish notion. I am happy he enjoys his time with me and that there are many great things we get to do as father and son. I know many people that don’t have a relationship with their sons and it seems they don’t care to as well. I have found it isn’t about hunting, building, playing, or just doing things together, it is the simple pleasure of just doing all those things together. I know what is coming. I have watched it with my daughters, 16 and 22, as they get older the family part of their lives seemed to get pushed out of the way. With my oldest I took it hard because it felt like she didn’t need me any longer. I found out it was just her getting older, getting independent, and her spreading her wings. My younger daughter is going thru the growing pains now, still wants to be daddy’s little girl but doesn’t want to be with me unless she wants to be with me. Number two has been a little easier in the adjustments because I got to see this one coming and actually evolve. I got to use some prior experience to help guide me to be a teenage girl’s dad and not my other baby girl’s daddy. I suppose I will always be daddy in their hearts and my own. I would like to think boys are different in that regard. Yes, I see my son becoming more independent every day and I can’t say I am thrilled with it. I am absolutely happy he is getting older and maturing, but I see my future. Is this why older people get cats or dogs or both? Do they still need to nurture something? It will be a dark day before I buy an animal to replace my children, a real dark day, like Hell freezing over dark. I have my time now, I still have a chance. I found that you cannot tell your children that you are here for them when they are ready because they don’t understand and it becomes rather awkward. I know, I have a head full of nonsense sometimes.

We did make it back to the back deck where my wife was waiting for us. She gave me a peck on the cheek and gave me a nod. In the terms of our relationship that means” everything will be okay daddy” and for me not to worry about things I cannot change. She’s right you know, I can’t really change any of this. I can, however, simplify the outside influential things in my life. But, do I really want to? I mean, it is everything in my life which makes me who I am. I am a doer, I am happy doing. In case y’all are interested, squirrel was not on this particular menu, just venison and some wild hog as the meats. Also, some grilled corn, some grilled mixed veggies, and some grilled bell peppers. Our little dinner was eaten outside on the deck with some classic rock playing slightly and a couple of my special recipe margaritas. It was nice while it lasted. My daughter was urgently called away to chat on-line with friends over a crisis. My son had put his game of Black Ops on pause while he came to get me and he needed to get back to the mission. So, after cleaning up a bit, my wife and I decided to stay outside with the tiki lamps burning while we enjoyed the last few margaritas I had mixed up. And then I realized what it all meant, I found the answer I wasn’t looking for, tiki lamps are magical. I was happy being happy sitting with my wife in the light from the flickering tiki lamps. I never knew how I miss lust sitting with her, Just enjoying her company, and just being happy. This is what I needed all along. The night was beautiful. The sky was clear with many of the stars clearly visible. People don’t know what they are missing when they just don’t stop and enjoy what is right in front of them.