I walked across the teakwood deck to the table at the railing. The deck table is my favourite place to take dinner. It has the perfect view for admiring a summers evening. Tonight will be no exception. The evening is warm and the wind is barely a whisper. I set my plate and cup down on the table and sit in the chair facing the lake. Always the best seat in the house. My view looks over about one hundred feet of lush green lawn that flows into a narrow beach along the lake’s edge. The beach is coarse and rocky rather than fine sand. It isn’t that kind of Vacation Place. The tropical oceans are not my style. I prefer the crisp, clean mountain air and being surrounded by trees instead of people. I am what can be described as an introvert. Well, there are other descriptors too, but we will stick with that one. Movement on the lawn catches my eye. A squirrel is making the mad dash across the lawn to the grove of trees by the lakeshore. He was probably into the bird feeders and is now heading home for the night. That particular grove seems to house several squirrel families. This is the only cabin within two miles, so the only easy access to bird feeders. My smile broadens as a second then third squirrel dash across the lawn to home. They have been very busy today I guess. I turn towards the house to call Randy, then I remember Randy isn’t here anymore. Too bad. He really liked the squirrels.

The slight breeze is causing the smallest ripples on the water. There is a lone loon sleeping on the lake in front of me. The wind slowly moving it along the length of the beach. I close my eyes and lay my head back on the chair, imagining the feeling of floating there beside him. The sun is still warm on my face and torso, making me feel light, comfortable, and safe. I almost nod off in that position, mimicking the loon. My stomach growling pulls me back to reality. Perhaps I will sleep on the deck tonight. Perhaps not. The mosquitos tend to come out when the wind dies out. I have about an hour and a half before that happens. Best enjoy it before the little pests arrive! There is a quiet buzz coming from the insects on the lawn. They make a nice companion to the whisper of the wind through the tree branches, the lapping of the water on the rocks, and the birds flying around and twittering as they eat the insects. The music of the mountains can be compared to nothing else. This music, this scene, this isolation is why I call this property The Vacation Place. It is my sanity. A place where I can leave the rush of the city and ground myself in the mountains. The Vacation Place. My Vacation Place. Best investment I ever made.

I pick up my utensils and start slicing the meat on my plate. Dinner looks very good tonight. Well, I am a chef, so dinner always looks very good. I have prepared a small assortment of sautéed vegetables and rosemary rice to accompany my famous smoked tongue. Yes, tongue. When done right, it is decadent. I come to the Vacation Place every year at the same time. My second day here I butcher the animal I bring with me. I much prefer butchering them myself, the cuts are exactly what I want. This animal is my protein for the whole month I stay in the mountains. I have built a lovely smoke house and it works well. The tongue is always the last meal I have on my vacation. I put the most work into this cut of meat. Marinating in my special brine for seven days, smoking slowly on the high rack for fourteen days, and resting on ice for another three. I sear it in rendered animal fat after I have sautéed the vegetables in it. The best dish on my menu by far. The last night I am here always makes me a little sad, so I save the best dinner to make it nicer. This cut does not disappoint me at all. Perfection. The animal was also perfection, so I should not be surprised. Not too lean, just enough fat in the right places to bring out the flavour. I finish my dinner and push my plate aside. Time to watch the sun creep down the mountains on the back of the lake.

As the sun starts playing its way diagonally on the mountains, I contemplate the choosing of next years animal. I always choose them within a month of returning to the city. This last year will be a hard one to beat. Absolutely exceptional! Much more enjoyable than the previous year. I wine and dine them, thin them out or fatten them up depending on their current condition. I absolutely go for the heathy ones. Vegetarians are best, grass fed and all that. Athletic where possible too. Less chance of illnesses and medications ruining the flavour of the meat. The hardest part is separating them from the herd. Farmers always notice when some livestock go missing. That takes time, wits, and preparation. They inevitably want to introduce you to parents, or a sister, some sort of family. The friends can be worse if you pick a social one. They seem to document everything the others do. If that is in hopes to aspire to be like them, or to compete with them I do not know. The emotions of animals do not matter much to me. It is the hunt I prefer. Randy was an excellent choice last time. A challenge too. He took a good three months to start pulling away from his herd. He was alpha, so that may have made a difference. I would say the closest I have come to keeping an animal as a pet. Not that I want a pet. It would hinder the next hunt and I would be without my protein at the Vacation Place.

The last of the sun’s light dips down to the lakeshore on the other side. It won’t be long before the temperature plummets and the wind dies down. That is mosquito time. I gather my plate and cup and go inside to do the dishes. I have much to pack for tomorrow’s journey home. The ice machine has been working overtime to produce what I need for the trip. It is a six hour drive and I want the rest of the fat and the smoked Randy I am taking home to stay cold. Now, there was a nice looking animal in the competition’s restaurant a week ago serving food. He looked the type that would be worth hunting. What was his name? Aaron, no. Andrew, no. Allan! It was Allan! Yes. Very good. I wonder if he prefers the male or the female of his species. I shall have to eat another meal there next week and find out. I do love a good hunt. It is what gets me through until the next trip to the Vacation Place. Without a hunt for my mind, my hunger would get out of hand. We really can’t have that happening. These animals scare so easily.