Back close to 40 years ago when I was married to my first wife her dad owned a custom butcher shop. I mean a real custom shop where the farmer would drop off the cow, hog or what ever and he would kill it, hang in and package how ever you wanted it. He had a old fashion smoke house and when he butchered hogs you could smell that bacon along ways away. When deer gun season would come in he would shut down and just do deer for two weeks and I would come in after hunting all day and help out. I skinned, quartered and boned hundreds of deer in those two weeks and to this day if I even smell venison I feel sick to my stomach. The guy I really hated was the guys that asked to have it all ground up into sausage.