Somewhere, Alaska:

The Hunter was given a permit to wander the state, gun in hand, in search of caribou. On his fifth day in the wilderness, he spotted a pair of antlers through the flora and raised his rifle. He playfully referred to this as ‘hunting reindeer,’ the connection to Santa and Hallmark 100% intact. Over the course of two minutes, he shot the reindeer six times until its body stopped quivering.

The Rule Book says — all caribou shot in Somewhere, Alaska must be slaughtered in the county by a licensed butcher and shipped to its final destination as packaged meat. Strange, I’m sure to those non-hunting types, but this Hunter and his friends were quite excited by this. Back home, family and friends knew it meant summer grilling of reindeer sausage and ground reindeer patties and for the Hunter himself, he would enjoy grilling chops and loins in cast iron, sprigs of rosemary and thyme soaked in the rendered fat. The head would be delivered last, once the face and skull of the reindeer were hollowed and packed with sand and meshed paper, the meat and organs individually packaged for either dog treats or homemade pâté. The caribou, now mounted on a walnut plank, its antlers and fur cleaned of all organic material, was ready to hang on the Hunter’s wall.