For this hunter, deer season means food security and connection to the land

The top trophy of hunting season comes wrapped in butcher paper—organic cuts stamped burger, roast, steak and chops. These groceries come from my land, not Foodland. Forget Skip the Dishes and Uber Eats. In my neck of the woods, the best delivery service is an ATV and a bush buggy, carrying home food security and the enthusiasm of a successful day afield.

Eating local is made possible with a family of hunters and gathers such as mine. We source our own maple syrup, meat and veggies from the woods and gardens surrounding our country home. We subscribe to what we call the “100–acre diet,” thanks to our spread of land that serves up an array of game meat, including wild turkey, waterfowl, black bear, upland bird and, most importantly, white-tailed deer.

Eventually, however, the summer sizzle of outdoor grills puts the final dent in our game meat inventory. Deer-hunting season can’t come fast enough when it’s a hunt for the last remaining venison chop on the freezer floor. Coming across a surprise package of ground is better than finding $20 in an old coat pocket.

Processing venison starts with processing the death of the whitetail that provided it. Deer are abundant, fenceless and renewable, but the weight of the gun also carries the weight of compassion. Hunters admire deer for surviving the untold predicaments of nature and the disturbances of humans, all of which far outrival a week or so of regulated hunting.

I am proudly clear about my hunting role, right down to putting the crosshairs on a deer’s vitals. I end its life for the nutritional gain of mine, while feeding a conservation ethic and a vow to protect the wild places where the best dinners come from. And that lets me taste the rewards of my gratitude for nature all year long—right down to the bottom of the freezer.