Hunting Season Again

I know it's hunting season because bottles of wine are starting to arrive at our front door. That, and I have to go walking with a fluorescent orange jacket, so that the hunters have to aim to hit me.

I'm not a hunter; neither is the Farmer. However, we have several hundred acres of woods giving lots of hiding space to crop-eating deer. There are no natural predators. The deer eat a LOT of corn.

Coming from the city, I was in the "Don't Shoot Bambi" camp. Barbaric, old-fashioned... whatever. I just saw a facebook post in response to a hunter who enjoys it. "Barbaric" was the response. I wondered, almost publicly, if she eats meat. And how she gets it. Wrapped in plastic on a styrofoam plate?

Moving to the Gravel Road, I've had to think about hunting, if for no other reason than it's a common practice and hunters ask permission to hunt on our land. We say yes. Here's why. For the Record.

1. The hunters ask permission.
2. They say thank you afterwards. They truly appreciate the privilege. They used to offer us some of the meat, but I'm vegetarian and The Farmer doesn't like venison. They bring wine now, instead!
3. They take out what they take in and look out for the property.
4. They follow the rules: wear orange, get the tags, share the space.
5. The equipment is not hi-tech. Let me rephrase. They don't use high-power rifles. They use bows and black powder guns. These pieces ARE high tech, but they can't simply aim and fire. And that's intentional. Hunters do have to work for their prey.
6. They use all of the animal.
7. Unlike meat eaters in the city, who buy meat that someone else has killed, butchered and packaged, the hunters have caught their own meat. It's free range, organic and, frankly, natural.
8. The hunters help keep the deer population in check.

I'm still not a fan of hunting and will never hunt unless I have to in order to eat; however, the hunters are welcome here.

5 Reasons I Love Gravel Road Country

1. It's close and it's far.
We live about 10 minutes from the highway. I consider those 10 minutes, (turn right out of driveway, follow curve, take second left, right at the STOP sign onto the county highway, take ramp, increase speed) like a very long driveway. When I come home, once I get on the tar chip it feels like 'I'm home.' For city friends, it feels like they're heading into nowhere land. And yet, it takes 15 minutes to get to the villages, 45-60 minutess to get to the city. Sometimes the drive drives me crazy.
2. It's quiet and it's noisy.
We can hear the highway from our house, though it's white noise, and when the wind is very still or slightly from the north- almost nothing. Nighttime is a special time, after the birds have calmed down and the crickets or peepers step up. No matter how many birds and critters there are, and there are hundreds and hundreds of birds around, it feels very still and quiet. We might see a dozen vehicles pass by, unless it's planting or harvesting time. A traffice jam is when two cars pass each other going in opposite directions.
3. It's simple and it's complex.
A friend just spent 30 minutes or more trying to decide which lawn care service he wanted for this season. He had information from 4 or 5, all with just enough difference in their service to render the decision somewhat crazy-making. We don't do lawn services in the country. We roll, and then cut and cut and cut. Also crazy-making.
4. It's natural and it's... not
City friends have received quite the education on country living over the past 15 years that I've lived on the Gravel Road. Yes, it's a natural setting. No, country people aren't in better shape, by definition just because they inhale all the fresh air. Yes, we can grow a lot of our own food. No, many don't. They eat pizza and packaged food at least as much as 'normal' people. Yes, we live in farmland. No, we don't all know how all our food is grown. Yes, we live in the fresh air of the 'green' country. No, we're not all rabid environmentalists. Yes, we are close to the ground. No, we can't name all the weeds that grow in our environment, and no, farmers generally DON'T want to eat all the edible weeds they spend a lot of time trying to get rid of.
5. It's easy and it's hard.
Because the population is small ( 5,000 in our 'municipality', which includes two villages of about 1 000 people each, and the surrounding country), it's easy to get to know people and to get involved in the community. One of the first volunteer activities I did was to help with some craft setup at the local fall fair. I joined the community band and have been directing it for 12 years. I started a women's choir, have worked on a Cultural Arts Roundtable to create an online cultural map of the area. The Chambe of Commerce is a great way to work... it's so easy to get involved. It's easy to start something. You don't need to have an advanced degree, or 25 years' experience. You can experiment.
Because the population is small and because it's always the same group of people doing everything, we get a little overdone at times. Things can only get so big. You can only ask so many people so many times. Because the population is small, it's hard to be anonymous unless you do nothing at all. Sometimes it's just hard to get things going.

So, How is the House Coming Along?

The tar paper looked much better than the bricks- in September. On a sunny springish day in March, it's looking like worn out tar paper. There has been wind. There has been rain. There has been sun. Tar paper does not like any of these. The house is looking worse for the wear. Sheets of tar paper have been torn from the house and lie about the yard. The paper that remains is dog-eared, weather-worn, faded and pitiable.

On top of the shabby country chic look, the roof over the vestibule leaked during the most recent flood. There was a dry day between teeming rain and a snow storm. We had 5 guys on the roof, one weilding (professionally) a machete, and another who even knew how to roof, getting a new roof on before sundown. They finished the roof and beer at sunset. It snowed the next day and was cold enough that clean up was an unfathomable option. While most of the old shingles are piled in a tough old red grain trailer behind one of the tractors and sits in the backyard, the smaller pieces of debris remain on the ground. The snow has melted, the crocuses are sprung up among the brick bits and cement leftover from the brick removal process, which also did not get the clean up needed.

While one of the squirrels that was living in the attic that was shooed out and then returned, was dispatched, the second one was doing some renovations the other day, using a saw, I'm sure. I'm expecting a deck or something stylish to be built up there, with the amount of noise that's been leaking through to the bedroom. Rick says it's the an old squirrel. A friend asked how he knew it was an old squirrel... saggy skin? grey hair (it's a grey squirrel)? balding?

While there was the intent to finish over the winter, (and intent does count), the winter was abnormally cold and snowy. The ground was covered and there was not much hope of the walls getting done. Can't hold the farmer responsible for any of that.

It's about 6 weeks til the Farmer gets machinery in the ground.
Stay tuned. Any bets on for it getting done?