Hanback Blog Classics: Kill or Harvest a Deer?
January marked my 4-year anniversary of blogging, first for Outdoor Life and the last 2 years here on BIG DEER. That means I’ve posted about 1,500 times, maybe more. To blog well, you have to be spontaneous and frequent, on it all the time. This thing is a monster. There are no outlines or deadlines, just post, post, post whenever and wherever you can. I’ve blogged at every hour of the day, in street clothes and camouflage. This is more information than you need, but I’ve bolted upright at 2:00 a.m. and run to my office in my underwear to post about deer. I’ve blogged in hotel rooms and deer camps, from lodges with wireless to tents and trailers out in the sticks with my Verizon card. When I’m hunting and not blogging, I’m checking BIG DEER and your emails on my Blackberry (might have just got a giant buck somebody killed to get up on the blog!). I have saved every text and picture I have ever posted on one of 5 computers and/or backup drives. Sometimes when I’m rummaging through old files I’ll run across a post I really liked, and that sparked this idea. From time to time I’ll post a classic, like this one from my OL days:
I just read an article about a guy who “harvested” a nice buck. The next day his buddy went out and “took” a good one.
Please. I killed this 8-pointer dead last fall, and I’m proud of it.
You harvest corn. You kill a deer. You take your kids to school. You shoot a buck. Then there’s the old “bag.” Well, you bag groceries. You kill or shoot game.
We don’t need to tiptoe around the reality that when you shoot something, it dies. Trembling, you walk up to an animal that will never take another breath or step. You’re happy and sad at the same time. You knife open a deer and are shocked by the smell and the hotness of its blood on your hands. To try to rationalize all that away with the benign vernacular is to degrade the experience.
Sometimes I try to spice up my stories by whacking, busting, nailing or smoking a buck. But if you ever catch me harvesting or taking or bagging one, call me on it. That’ll mean I’m old and senile, time to quit. comment

Mike: I shot this Ohio buck last Oct. 25. Here’s the story.
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