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Baby Reindeer Hunting

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I went "Baby Reindeer Hunting" in a remote village in Thailand.

 

Yes. Baby Reindeer.

Thailand is located 15 degrees above the equator, so naturally, I was skeptical from the start. 

To be clear: we weren't hunting baby reindeer for sport: We were hunting because that was the only way we would eat. The village leader pulled two handmade musket rifles from underneath his house and said that if we didn't find any reindeer, we would not have food for the next few days.  

 

They poured gunpowder into the pan, placed a flint to connect with the frizzen, and prepared for Santa's little helpers to come out from hiding in the woods so we could have a nice meal. 

Suffice it to say, as expected; we didn't see one baby reindeer in the jungles of Thailand. They must have flown away or something. After six hours of hunting for our imaginary migratory reindeer dinner, the two pastors, for some reason, bypassed all the unicorns grazing in the sunlight and set their sights on something else to eat. They took aim at a tiny bird and a half-starved squirrel, whom I believe intentionally jumped into the line of fire to put himself out of his misery.

 

Because our score was so small: a goldfinch and suicidal squirrel for 8 people, they left the bones in the stew to make it go farther. Bone soup. No "baby reindeer."

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