Where the Deer and the Antelope Play

The season of blood has begun. The trees, in one last gasping spasm of summer life, practically bleed from their branches.

It's at if some tragic and bitter massacre has occurred in countless yards and forest floors, some mysterious battle fought and lost....

...leaving behind dry brittle bones and blood stained images tattooed into hard surfaces. It's not just the trees that bleed.

It's the season when men and women take to the woods in sturdy fashions of swirling brown and green. Sitting in trees, crouching in high grass, waiting. Little lies are told of past hunts and if the waiting goes on long enough, bigger truths are examined and revealed.

Hunting is woven deeply into our shared dna, whether immigrant or native born. Protein kept us alive when this country was so very young. Hunters today heed the call of their dna, their blood. They return home with sweat sculptured hair, all angles and waves. They return with cheeks and noses ruddy from exposure, padding around like giant camouflaged ducks with thick grey wool-webbed feet. They nap and dream of big bucks and racing blood.



Most home cooks today only know meat as something vacuum sealed in plastic and styrofoam, waiting in a refrigerated case, only to be thrown in a grocery cart, practically bloodless and sterile.

The blood, if any, to be instantly cleaned from the kitchen with anti-bacterial sprays for fear of "cross contamination". Death by chicken blood.

We are lucky to still have a season of blood. That the deer and the antelope still play in such numbers that we can enjoy and appreciate nature's bounty.

I am lucky enough to be the recipient of such bountiful gifts of venison and now, antelope and I am always grateful, especially since I am not a hunter. I always try to do right by the beast that fed me.

This wonderful and tender antelope roast was prepared by using a recipe I found at Texas Hunt Works. It was delicate and juicy and I can't wait to try more recipes for the rest of the antelope I have in my freezer. Thank you Tim and Chris, it's good eatin'.