As you may know, I am not a huge fan of dead animals. I support my husband's hunting mainly because I know it is good quality time for him to spend with the boys, and also to make him happy. I let him hunt, he's happy. I don't let him hunt, he laughs at me, and hunts anyway. So I just go with it, spend money on his debit card while he's gone, and silently pray that he doesn't actually kill anything. My prayers are not often answered in the way I would like. Not only does he kill stuff on a regular basis, now he has the kids actually being "successful".
Dallin, who is 12 and of legal hunting age in the great state of Utah, was lucky enough to get a turkey with his bow earlier this year. He was excited, so I was excited for him. Yay, that's so great! I'm so proud of you! Please, please, please don't bring it home...
Well, I guess it was a pretty good turkey, so Jason took it to his way-too-good-of-a-friend taxidermist to get stuffed. I was happy because that meant I had a few more months of animal-freeness, and then I forgot about it. Until the other day, when Jason sent me this picture from his phone. With one word: "Yes."
Yes, what? Yes, the turkey is done. Yes, it's huge. Yes, I'm bringing it home. Yes, it's wearing a seat belt.
Fortunately, the turkey is living in Dallin's room for the time being. I don't often go in there, but when I do I will be reminded of a happy boy and his very large accomplishment in the spring of 2015. And hope that it is his last accomplishment of the sort for quite some time.
Now, will you take a moment and review with me the thoughts that are going through Jason's mind in the above photo:
Man, this is cool.
I'm driving with a turkey.
This turkey is huge.
Everyone looking in here thinks I'm so cool because I'm driving with a huge turkey.
I need a picture of this.
This is awesome.
It's not like I can read minds or anything, but yeah, sometimes I actually can.