Katie’s perspective: The hunt, week two

by Katie on October 17, 2009

Day eight: Bill paying day. As part of my duties, I pay our monthly credit card bill and check the statement. I see Brandon made a mere $47 charge at the Safeway in Payson, AZ. This made me smile.
On my bank and post office run, I notice one of our cows made its way out of the pasture and into the alfalfa field. The reason this is bad is two-fold: the alfalfa field doesn’t have a fence and is flanked on one side by a road, and the alfalfa could make the cow bloat up really bad. But, I get the cow back in the fence without any damage.
But the day gets better again when Brandon’s mom begs to take me shopping that afternoon. And not just any shopping; super-clearance-like-I’ve-never-seen-before shopping. Let’s just say she didn’t really have to twist my arm all that hard.
And then, we get there, and I hear the alert for my picture text messaging go off. I just stopped dead in my tracks, looked at Rayanne, and said, “That’s a picture. I just got a picture.” She suggested I take a look at it. Good idea. So I crossed my fingers as I dug my phone out of my purse, and sure enough…there was an elk. And Brandon.
The hunt was over! He was coming home. I was no longer Head Irrigator or Hay Salesman. Oh, and we had an elk to hang on the wall…hooray.
This set off a fury of text messages between the two of us as I tried to get all the details. In one message, I asked, “You are taking lots of pictures with my camera, right?” He replied, “Duh. Of course.” But, as you can see from the elk albums, Brandon must have a different definition of “lots,” because we don’t have that many pictures, and half of them came from Dean Rovey’s camera.
On the way back from my 10pm water change, I remember I haven’t fed our dogs, so we swing by the house. Halfway down our road, Wilbur high-tails it out in front of us, making a beeline for the house — from our neighbor’s yard. I think he knew he was not supposed to be there. I decide it’s time to pen them up.
But before we make it to my house, we find a cow. Laying in the middle of the road. The same one I put back in the pasture that morning. So, we chase her into the corral at the house and call it a night.
Day nine: I’m leaving for a lunch date with Brandon’s mom and a couple other women in a dress and high-heeled sandals. I glance in the rear view mirror and find a cow in the alfalfa field. Again. So I chase her back in. Did I mention I was wearing a dress? And heels? Mid-chase, one of our hay customers calls to let me know he’s sending a truck the next day. He asks if Brandon is home yet.
“He’s on his way. And it’s a good thing, because right now I’m chasing a cow through our field in a dress.”
I send Brandon a message to let him know it’s time to move the cows to a new pasture. He agrees. (As if he had any choice.)
Brandon returns and brings Dixie and Wilbur each an elk leg. I congratulate him on his grocery bill accomplishment.
Me: “Hey, I saw you only spent $47 on groceries. That was impressive. I’m really proud of you.”
Him: Sporting a nervous grin…
Me: “That’s not all you spent, is it?”
Him: “Well, it’s all I spent on the credit card.”
Me: “So how much cash did you have with you?”
Him: “Not enough to avoid putting some of it on the credit card.”
Oh well. I totally expected that one anyway.
He also comes up with the best idea ever: pay someone else to irrigate the sunflowers for the weekend so I can go away with him.
Day 12: We begin cutting up elk meat. And we continue cutting, grinding, packaging and sealing elk meat. Thankfully, Brandon’s mom chipped in for the entire eight hour ordeal, and we sent her home with one package of ground elk. And an invitation to request more, of course. Anyone need a roast?
Day 13: Dixie and Wilbur begin enjoying the ten gallons of elk scraps I sealed up in the freezer for them. Really. Ten gallon size bags. After I gave one away. The scraps make them quite a bit easier to pen up at night.
Day 14: Life begins to resemble our “normal” again. Just in time for my cow elk and deer hunts — back to back.

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