Lock up your dogs and sharpen your knives: Huntin' season has begun.
Rifle season for deer, that is. It started at sunrise this morning. It is well known that if you pronounce the "g" in "hunting," you will never get a deer. That "g" makes it easy for the deer to tell you're a pansy and not a real hunter, see. So when rifle season begins, even well-educated people with careful enunciation drop that "g" in anticipation of venison. Like us.
We also have to put Otty the Escape Artist on a leash in front of the house so she doesn't take off into the woods and get herself shot. One or more of the dogs will eventually make a break for it and find a delicious rotting deer carcass that they will then proceed to gorge themselves on and drag back to the house piece by piece (Exhibit A). But we keep them close for at least the first few days of the season, when the activity is at its peak and their likelihood of being shot is highest.
So all the dogs are locked up tight, the woods are reverberating with the echoes of rifle shots, and the deer are in mortal peril.
Yup. Must be huntin' season again.