reply to post by PS3Geek
Haven't been back here in a while. You touched upon something I wanted to mention:
I have never hunted before or gutted an animal and i know if it came to it i would have trouble doing it mainly trying to keep myself from
It depends -- in my experience -- upon context. I didn't ever puke, even as a child, but then dressing a freshly killed animal was common within
my experience as a kid. It began with cleaning fish, plucking and cleaning chickens, and it was just............ life -- respected, utilized for
our nourishment and appreciated.
To be suddenly thrust into having to clean a large game animal might be somewhat visceral to a person.
Tell you a story. My Dad and I were elk hunting, and one of his work buddies wanted desperately to come along. Dad liked the guy, but cautioned
me to always stay where I could see Norm and to be aware of where he was shooting. Dad and I were on horseback, and Norm was afoot; Even though
horses are noisy, they often mask the scents of humanity. We were in a drainage about 10 miles from home near the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness Area
Dad shot his elk, and the two of us hanged it from a stout branch and we dressed it out, peppering the cavity and left it. Dad put the selected
innards in a canvas bag in his saddlebag, and he dropped the rest of the entrails about 1/4 of a mile away near a stream. We heard four or five
shots to our east -- close to camp.
We rode back the few miles to camp and didn't find Norm. Dad set to tracking him and cut his trail along a game trail quartering up the hillside.
We cresting a short hill, and there was a spash of red in the white background of snow. We walked the horses closer, and the two appaloosas
started flashing their eyes white and jerking their heads. They smelled blood, and didn't like it. We went down into a draw and saw where
something had left a plate-sized gout of blood, and followed the trail. Over the next rise and into the valley, we found Norm. At first I didn't
know what I was seeing -- it was like some nightmarish creature. Norm had cut the spike elk low in the belly, and rather than opening the chest
cavity, he had crawled up inside the elk, pushing entrails behind him. What I saw was an elk with blood-stained human legs and lower torso sticking
Norm had puked. Oh yeah. He'd puked several times near the carcass of the elk, but we had to give him respect for effort. Norm had seen elk come
down from the high country, and they were dressed, but didn't have the chest cavity opened -- they had been hung, as we'd done, making the removal
of the lungs, wind pipe and entrails more a matter of gravity and reaching up into the cavity to cut things loose. Nope. None of that for Norm.
He was covered in gore, and nothing white except his full-toothed grin. Dad had told him: "you get an elk, you fire two shots rapidly, and we'll
come help you dress it."
Norm went with us the next year, and the next. To his credit, he never felt embarassed about his initial effort. No reason he should have either;
he did it his way and he learned. My mare was strong, and could pack a quarter and me both easily. My Dad's gielding -- Spooks -- aptly named
because he spooked at everything... would not tolerate any blood-smelling critter parts on him. My mare -- Suzy -- packed both elk out to our
horse trailer -- making it in six trips.
Maybe this is off-topic...... I kinda think it serves to illustrate what we can do when we feel the need to excell. I think if you really had to,
you could field dress an animal.......... and probably wouldn't puke, unless you were with someone who persuaded you to eat part of the raw liver in
homage to the animal.
It's not so bad. ;o)