OK, you can have my share then. :)
Where I grew up, the first day of deer hunting season was a school holiday. I got to taste venison killed by almost every male relative I had over the age of 14, prepared in almost every way imaginable. It didn't matter; I just never liked the taste. My Dad and Mom did like it; my Dad especially liked venison jerky. Not me though; go figure.
If I manage to move back to the country, I've got half an idea to put gun ports in the side of my house, so if I see one within range, I won't spook it by opening the window or whatever.
Did you say you grew up around the north midwest?
Hope you didn't have to swim home, Bear and that there isn't a flood situation by you.