For many Southern gentlemen, it’s all about the hunt. If you’re a Southerner, you already know it.
Does that seem strange? Is it odd to you that gentlemen should be called gentle, yet they hunt? The essence of a Southern gentleman is a man of character…inner strength…yet gentleness.
The outer strength isn’t manifest in brutality. It’s his ability to lead his family by providing, standing for what is right…and good…and wholesome, and adequately managing resources God has provided – whether they choose to hunt or not.
Sometimes he kills for necessity – like when HH’s damsel in distress (who, me?) is upset that armadillo are destroying vegetation.
Other times, it’s for sport. A good, clean, honest hunt with another Southern gentleman friend who shares his duck blind. And, then he graciously allows his guest to keep the rare banded duck he killed that day as a guest.
For years after, the duck stands as evidence of such a gentleman. A true friend.
I awaken to gunfire many mornings during Fall.
Distant hunters shoot into the sky. Their goal – the foul.
Dove, duck, pheasant. HH does not hunt dove.
We are surrounded by dove pairs, nesting at the barn and in the trees. They are like our pets – so familiar – but truly not in our care. We do care for their welfare, though.
HH has hunted duck and pheasant. Hence, the stuffed duck and pheasant feathers. (The stuffed pheasant in flight “lives” in the family room.)
Most women shun the kill. We like to banish the stuffed carcasses to the man cave.
Look closely at the beautiful colors of the wood duck.
I decided to feature the kill rather than banish it.
It’s meaningful to enjoy the beauty of God’s creation provided for the hunt…for food. To control populations, our gentlemen hunt for sport…and bring the prize home for dinner.
My sister-in-law is the queen of cooking the kill. I guess when you’re married to an avid hunter, you have to settle into it. Embrace it, even.
SIL has learned the techniques of bleeding meat in water baths, refrigerating them for days. She follows with frying, baking, or roasting them. SIL covers them with delicious sauces and rubs…and serves the kill with vegetables preserved from the garden. Rustic living, it sounds to me.
But, it’s not rustic at all. It’s just a different way of life. Good, clean life.
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