Even if the author hadn't harvested his first buck - this fine 8-point - visions of the deer nearly colliding with him surely would have lasted a lifetime. But by filling his tag and bringing home venison, the whole family got to enjoy in the harvest. cloves. I asked my older boy to start a fire in the firepit out back and get the big cast-iron pan off a hook in the garage. I splashed red wine vinegar over the meat and pressed it gently with my bare hand, remembering what it had been, only a week before. My mouth watered as the cuts sputtered and hissed in butter. My son poked and flipped the meat with a long wooden spoon with a smile on his face. I added more kindling to increase the heat as light snow started to fall. A few minutes on each side was enough. We plated the meat and brought it inside. I set it on the kitchen table, beside the potatoes, squash and corn. My family was around me, and I watched their faces turn from anticipation to delight. I gave thanks once again and enjoyed the first bite of my first buck. OCTOBER 2021 19