Homemade Sausage Making

Hi Gang,
I just had to share this video. Our fellow member Rand sent it in from Estes Park, Colorado... where the elk downtown... hunt the people! What a sight. What a beautiful town. I've ridden my Harley there many times. If you are a hunter, just imagine how much sausage you could put in the freezer with just of these big guys! Thanks for sharing Rand.
Link here: http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=79 ... c&vq=large

Best Wishes,
Chuckwagon

Awsome Video!!!
I know how much sausage I made with the Elk I got last year.
I am ready to make some sausage with Bear and Mountain Lion.
Thanks for sharing that Chuckwagon..

Did you notice that the big guy was wearing an ear tag? Those guys are the most dangerous They aren't afraid of people.

Love that Video!

I have to wonder about the tourists as well, someone is bound to get badly hurt because they misjudge the lethal power of those antlers.

Typical human behavior! Someone will eventually end up gored by an Elk (Several in the video almost did) and that would hurt

I had an ol` uncle that was tough as nails and made his living as a cowboy. He was a bow-legged short, silent cowpoke... and I always thought he was in pain when he was forced to speak. And he did so at least twice a day. Every old sourdough I've known, called him a sourdough, and shucks... everyone in the family knew that he, in his younger years, once lassoed a fully antlered (bull) elk from horseback. He never discussed the matter with anyone, as this type activity is most irrational, quite illogical, and unpredictably dangerous. (duh!) He`s danged lucky the critter didn`t gore his horse!

The man loved to eat fish but didn't enjoy what he called, "wasting time standin' in a creek just to whip it into a froth". This is where and when I captured my uncle`s heart, as I believe any day spent fishing is an extra day added to one's life!

All his other nephews were just a bit intimidated by his continual silence and ever-squinting eyes although he actually had a large heart beneath his tough old weather-beaten hide. My uncle`s day began at 3:30 A.M. by stumbling out of the ranch house, strolling down to the generator shack in the dark, and firing up the machines supplying electricity to the entire ranch. My brother once told me he saw him performing this ritual in two feet of snow at 15 degrees below zero long ago, with nothing on but his "Stetson cady, Hanes, n' Justins" (cowboy hat, underwear briefs, and cowboy boots). The wiry cowkicker would start the generators, step outside, stretch, yawn, look up at the sky to check the weather, and slowly saunter back to the main kitchen where he put on the coffee pot, all as if it were just another day in July. My uncle`s gone now, but I`d like to think he`s somewhere in the great beyond just chasing elk and throwin` big loops of rope `round `em - with his pants on, of course!

Best Wishes,
Chuckwagon