Kelly--Stranger editors--shouldn't the headline read "That Time I Woke Up to Find My Parents BUTCHERING a Deer in Our Kitchen"? To slaughter is to kill. To butcher is to hack the carcass into usable portions....

Oh come now -- I and hundreds (thousands?) of Washingtonians process a deer in our kitchens every October or November. It's not nearly as gruesome as the scene you describe, which is surely littered with embellishments and mis-recollections. And my kids are very interested in the proceedings, want to help, to have a Big Important Job.

Hung by the neck? Really? Because most hang with a gambrel behind the Achilles on the hind quarters.

Also - surely all that blood on your mom was from field dressing, not from butchering. And presumably that was done outside. Field dressing IS messy (and smelly); once you've dressed out and skinned, the butchering itself is quite neat...

@2 Littered with embellishments and misrecollections? Almost as if it were a small child's memory!

Kelly, this sounds like a scene from the film Parents, which I recommend watching if you haven't seen it. Except the meat they were eating was a little, ahem, closer to home.

This was a missed opportunity to write something informative and have an intelligent conversation about why its important to know how to slaughter and butcher animals properly and how to do it in a humane and skillful fashion. I doubt it went down as you described. Your parents sound like they have a lot of experience and wouldn't have likely made the kind of mess with blood everywhere that you are talking about. Most people who butcher their own meat have too much respect to mess around and it's A LOT of work but it's also rewarding and be fun. We raise and slaughter our own meat and it's a community affair involving the kids so most of it except the slaughter. Kids and disconnected adults need to reconnect with our place in the natural world. We are a predator species and engaging in yearly harvesting, hunting and gathering is a soulful way to live.

It could be hyperbole or embellishment, but I found the whole thing pretty entertaining, (I have some pretty funny hunting stories myself). But in any case it may have been that her parents whacked the deer, (probably with a .22 or bow), covered it up in the back of the truck, and brought it inside to be out of the eyes of snoopy neighbors. So it would have been bunches messier than just cutting up the prime rib.

I really wish the cartoon was exactly like it would look like. Mom's look is truly priceless!!

@7 - Enjoy: https://shootingtime.com/deer-hunting-ti…

Also, my parents did (and do) have a lot of experience. They also have a love of the absurd and wicked senses of humor. They're the same parents who, when my brother and I started to figure out THE BIG LIE, put a bale of hay and a bag of carrots on our roof—almost killing themselves trying to climb up the old TV antenna on the side of the house. They knew if brother and I saw them going to that much trouble to leave food for the reindeer, that Santa could stay "real" for at least one more holiday.

I spoke to my brother this week. He was only 5 or 6 years old at the time, and he remembers this Saturday morning. He says he mostly only remembers the blood. He remembers they shot more than just one animal, and they definitely made an awesome mess.

Please don't doubt. They made such a huge mess, for the glee and absurdity of trying to do such a thing inside the house. This is what my parents did. Laugh in the face of hardship, and do it in the most unconventional way. It's real story from my real family, and I'm forever grateful it happened. I'm also thankful for each and every survival skill these people ever taught me.

@10 Sending love from Michigan, Kelly. I believe this is exactly how it must've gone down; I've heard many stories a lot like this over the years!

Also ate venison as a kid.

My father had hunted and fished as a boy in the country, but our area was suburb, and only rarely do I remember seeing a hanging deer.

After my younger brother and sister , under age 5, found it and sqaubbled over my fathers pocket knife, and sister nearly lost a finger, my father gave his hunting rifle away.

And I only ate venison twice more, the last overpriced in a German restaurant.

But you're right, it was delicious.

Great story!

At first glance I thought it may have been a clickbait-y piece for trolling either queasy liberals or condescending right-wing wackos.

Instead it was a very nice story from your childhood that reminded me of my own.

For any fathers of daughters who may read this, I can tell you from firsthand experience that there is nothing more intimidating than being 18 years old and bringing your girlfriend home to find her Dad waiting while butchering a deer in the carport...

Yikes. Smelling like sex with her Dad standing there with a meat cleaver still scares me to this day.