Last Ram Down

The last remaining ram lamb has finally been consigned to the freezer.  Past time, in my opinion.

A. killed it, gutted it, and skinned it last Saturday.  Yesterday, he and the MiL cut it up.

I did not do the cutting up.  I actually refused to do it.  I had told A. after I did the deer that that was the last corpse I intended to handle this season, and by God, I stuck to that.

So I left all the work to the MiL, like a bad daughter-in-law.

These are the initial large cuts that A. produced with the meat saw and a knife.  

Meat, with saw. 

The MiL then spent a couple more hours trimming, boning, and wrapping before it all went in the freezer.  Well, all but the backstrap and the ribs, which A. insisted on grilling.  It was about forty degrees and he had to re-build our jerrybuilt grill in the yard, but he did it.


Then we all stood around outside gnawing on bones.  It was all very masculine and Cro-Magnon.  Except I didn't eat any because . . . well, because I didn't want to.  Cubby, however, was quite enthusiastic.

That's a bone in his mouth and a pair of pliers in his other hand.  You just never know when you might need some pliers.

After that, we all went to check our buckets in the maple trees and collected a few gallons of sap.  Just the beginning of what we hope will be about a hundred gallons in the end.

And that's Saturday at Blackrock.