Amazing how a very ugly, furry carcass will draw menfolk from far and wide. Tonight there was some strange sort of man-party on my porch as they gathered to see...THE FISHER. The story begins as my hubby finds this dead carcass along the roadside and does what every he-man would do, he picks it up and brings it home (in my pink storage container.) I feel the pull of the homeschool moment coming on, a teaching occasion, we can learn about the Fisher. I'm not quite jumping for joy at his arrival, but the whirr of excitement begins...Calls to knowlegeable "Fisher-men," contacting friends, neighbors, game officers. Apparently these guys are not too common. He is in the weasel family and is about 3 feet long. So all the men gather on my front porch, in the dark, talking about and examing the carcass. I am not present, this is a testosterone charged circle and I don't want to get too near the glow. My husband forgets he hasn't eaten his dinner, as it sits in the oven petrifying in the name of the man-circle. Real men don't need dinner. If they get hungry enough, maybe they'll even eat that Fisher. It ends quietly with all the neighboring tribesmen returning to their clans. And my husband is left alone, to ask his wife, that would be me, if he may put the carcass in the freezer beside the fish sticks and chicken legs. The 3 ft long carcass. I haven't looked yet, I may not look at all. He promised it would be gone in one week. Maybe we could live without frozen food for a week.
Mark 1:17 And Jesus said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you become fishers of men.”
Recent sunset on the farm. 
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