to blake, we were all just really cool elmer fudds

We made a rare splurge and got Monsters vs. Aliens. It came with a little featurette in 3-D, and Blake had a hard time with the double glasses. Rob, however, was LOVING IT.

What you can expect if you are Lego man in this household: being chained by your feet or stalked by the one pitiful army figure we have. The chained guy is attached to a "flyer." "He gets dragged behind because he was naughty."

The wound that wasn't. He was a wreck for a surprisingly few minutes, and I'm just relieved it didn't break the skin or smash up his face. Poor kid.

Happy faces, looking for things to shoot.

We warned Blake that he had to be VERY quiet when he got out of the truck, that we were sneaking up on antelope. He proceeded to declare very loudly that Bing let him borrow gloves! AREN'T THEY COOL?! Tom, the friend whose ranch we were on, wryly wondered who would loan Blake a muzzle.

WARNING TO THE SQUEAMISH AND/OR VEGETARIANS: Blood and guts and dead animals follow.

Saturday: The first kill of the trip. Bing snagged this guy in one clean shot. Because we were having trouble finding any bucks, Tom offered to wrangle up a slightly retarded one. The rack wasn't much to look at, but since it was meat they were after, not a trophy, the slightly-retarded-stop-to-stare-at-you deer won (lost?) the draw.

Sunday: We (me, Lane, and Dad) put the sneak on a group of antelope bedded down near a draw, belly-crawling in a shallow depression for a few dozen yards (no prickly pear, thank goodness, but there was some poop to avoid), hidden by some straggly sagebrush. Lane sat up and got the sentinel in her sights, took the shot, and tipped her right over. The doe never jumped, never stood, nothing. Our cover blown, the others started for the fence. I got one shot off (that I shouldn't have taken - they were moving, and I am lousy with a moving target), promptly getting Lane and Dad with muzzle blast due to the angle. Lane proceeded to enthusiastically gut her doe with a zeal that made me just a tiny bit uncomfortable. She's such a badass.

Blood diamond. Next time, she'll remember to take off the wedding ring first.

We'd gotten up on and spooked two more sets of antelope. Once, they caught our scent and took off like the devil himself was at their heels - understandable, I guess. They'd been hunted hard the past month, and the numbers were down before that anyway. I took one shot at a bedded down doe that missed. Dad made sure I wasn't beating myself up for two missed shots, but the truth was, I was just self-doubtful, not self-loathing. I'd not hunted in ten years. Maybe I was no longer a good shot? Maybe I should have practiced before going all out when the food was on the line? Maybe I should have gotten a deer tag? They hadn't been hunted much yet and would just stand and look at you as you lined one up in your scope, fifty yards away. And then, minutes before we were to arrive back at the ranch to pack up for home, Tom insisted on a detour. He promised it would only take ten minutes, he knew this draw very close to the house where antelope tended to gather, and if we approached it right, they'd never know where we were. So we belly-crawled up a hill (my arms are still protesting), and there they were.

100-150 yards downhill, they were lined up at the fence. Antelope are PERFECT on a fence line. They go underneath (rather than jump it), and they go single file. If you spook them, they hold still A LOT longer than usual, because they don't know where to go, and they don't want to split up. I drew a bead on a doe, took a few calming breaths, and squeezed the trigger.

She jumped, then fell. What you see there is the exit wound - on the other flank, I hit her EXACTLY where I'd aimed (just behind the front leg), restoring my faith in my old nickname: Addie Oakley.

After I took my shot, I handed Dad the gun and skootched back hard. They didn't know where we were, so the rest of the herd only ran a few dozen yards, then stopped to look around. They'd rather hold still than run in the wrong direction, toward whatever that loud sound was, and Dad took his shot...

A VERY nice buck. I'm sure I looked like an idiot, jumping around and whooping and hugging everyone. Lane and Bing were relieved that we'd gotten what we came for - since they had filled their tags, they were feeling badly that neither Dad or I had anything at that point, even offering me some of their meat. At the end of the ten-minute detour, we were gutting our game. It was MAGIC. Perfect. A euphoric end to a great weekend where I got precious time with my loved ones, Blake got precious time outside with Grammie, and I got to know Bing and Maddox a little better. Maddox now gives me kisses, and Bing has almost forgiven me for running off at the mouth and punching him in his pacemaker.

More on THAT in another post.