Many thanks to you all — and sorry for not following up on the comments sooner, or answering those of you who emailed me.
To make a long story short, my Dad managed to declare a pneumonia, made even worse by a totally incompetent physician (nothing exceptional though: just the "best healthcare system int he world" at work. I wish I could punch that fat f* Michael Moore right now) who treated him for nearly a week with only paracetamol - before that brilliant man of the art finally realized that the heavy fever wasn't going down, whereas his patient was, and fast.
The end result is that I had to rush my Dad to the nearest hospital's emergency service, where they diagnosed the pneumonia, and decided to keep him for further analysis and (hopefully, as this is just another "public service" hospital) the adequate treatment, at last.
At the same time, I had to almost beat my Mom (figuratively of course) into *not* speculating about the big bad "C" word, as she tends to freak out very easily when it comes to these things.
Having said that, my old man really doesn't look good at the moment, and I confess I was quite worried until late this afternoon. That thing got the best of him, and what scared me most was that 1. I've always seen my Dad (like you did yours I bet) to be invincible, and the strongest man in the world and 2. He's always been extremely hard on himself, working like mad, and never taking a rest. Seeing him shaking and so feeble that he could hardly eat his first hospital meal by himself today was really hard to stand.
KL,
What we really want to know is what you did with the rest of the deer.
A huge casserole! Seriously though, as we hunt in pack, we share whatever we kill between the members of the pack. So nobody gets to bring back the whole animal, but at the end of the season, everybody had roughly an equal share of all the meat.
As for the technicalities: that's a young (judging by its teeth) adult male European Roe Deer (Capreolus capreolus), a relatively small animal that (correct me if I'm wrong) can't be found on the American continent. It's more or less the size of a goat, and not particularly bright (at least, compared with the wild boar), though some of the older males have been known to expose quite a bit of cunning. Which is a requisite, if you mean to become an old male in the unforgiving world of Mother Nature.
It was shot at 60/70 meters, give or take, the caliber was 280 rem, and the cartridge provided by Federal Ammunition (Power Shok soft point, 150 grain). Made in the US of A, but that goes without saying.
Our friend Proof who demonstrated his expertise in spotting the shooty and no shooty cartridges in the picture, and make the right deduction with respect to the deer's head at room temperatures, wins a fine cigar with Sarah under the bright moon — lucky, lucky, lucky he.
Many thanks to you all — and sorry for not following up on the comments sooner, or answering those of you who emailed me.
To make a long story short, my Dad managed to declare a pneumonia, made even worse by a totally incompetent physician (nothing exceptional though: just the "best healthcare system int he world" at work. I wish I could punch that fat f* Michael Moore right now) who treated him for nearly a week with only paracetamol - before that brilliant man of the art finally realized that the heavy fever wasn't going down, whereas his patient was, and fast.
The end result is that I had to rush my Dad to the nearest hospital's emergency service, where they diagnosed the pneumonia, and decided to keep him for further analysis and (hopefully, as this is just another "public service" hospital) the adequate treatment, at last.
At the same time, I had to almost beat my Mom (figuratively of course) into *not* speculating about the big bad "C" word, as she tends to freak out very easily when it comes to these things.
Having said that, my old man really doesn't look good at the moment, and I confess I was quite worried until late this afternoon. That thing got the best of him, and what scared me most was that 1. I've always seen my Dad (like you did yours I bet) to be invincible, and the strongest man in the world and 2. He's always been extremely hard on himself, working like mad, and never taking a rest. Seeing him shaking and so feeble that he could hardly eat his first hospital meal by himself today was really hard to stand.
KL,
A huge casserole! Seriously though, as we hunt in pack, we share whatever we kill between the members of the pack. So nobody gets to bring back the whole animal, but at the end of the season, everybody had roughly an equal share of all the meat.
As for the technicalities: that's a young (judging by its teeth) adult male European Roe Deer (Capreolus capreolus), a relatively small animal that (correct me if I'm wrong) can't be found on the American continent. It's more or less the size of a goat, and not particularly bright (at least, compared with the wild boar), though some of the older males have been known to expose quite a bit of cunning. Which is a requisite, if you mean to become an old male in the unforgiving world of Mother Nature.
It was shot at 60/70 meters, give or take, the caliber was 280 rem, and the cartridge provided by Federal Ammunition (Power Shok soft point, 150 grain). Made in the US of A, but that goes without saying.
Our friend Proof who demonstrated his expertise in spotting the shooty and no shooty cartridges in the picture, and make the right deduction with respect to the deer's head at room temperatures, wins a fine cigar with Sarah under the bright moon — lucky, lucky, lucky he.