My husband is a hunter, as is my son, and one of my two daughters, and there was a time, when I was foolishly young, that I'd grab the opportunity to go with hubby on a hunting trek in order to just be with him. It didn't matter that I wasn't a hunter or that I'd later have nightmares about the slaughter of sweet, little animals, I was in love and would do what it took to be near the love of my life. I might mention here that this was a one-sided love affair because I don't rightly recall him ever wanting to accompany me on my, at that time only, out-of-the-home-except-for-work activity to do the grocery shopping with one buggy full of fighting kids while towing another in which to put the groceries, but you know how love goes...
It only took 2 (I'm a slow learner) of these opportunities for me to
get over itbecause I finally figured it out, hunters are a crazy bunch.
You begin to realize the extent of their insanity as you sit on a muddy turn row,in the rain, in the dark, in wet clothes, wearing only one boot (the other being stuck 3ft deep in the mud of a plowed up field a few hundred yards back), holding the leash of the hyper coon hound, waiting for your partner in life to find the damned truck that you know you arrived at the woods in. I might also mention here that the woods we were hunting in were, at most, only 1/8 of a mile wide but had sufficient length for us to be able to make various circles in order to become lost enough that you can't find the damned truck when you exit them.
Other realizations of a hunter's maddness come as you finally flail bleedingly through the entangled, thorny patch of wild blackberry bushes looking as if you'd just lost a fight with an angry feral cat. Then while you feel confident the blood won't matter due to there being no piranhas or sharks in the puddles and streams you'll have to cross, you soon realize that leaping these puddles and streams is a sure way to get wetter because you can almost bet that, even if your take off is smooth, the landing probably won't be.
And then there's the cold. But the shivering soon goes away due to the sweating you are doing from the extra 50lbs of mud you are carrying, that's stuck to your one boot and one sock, that you gathered from crossing that chisel-plowed field previously mentioned.
Upon finally arriving at my centrally heated home after my attempt to feel in tune with my other half, I came to the conclusion that love ain't worth all that so I'm OVER it!
13 comments:
No sharks in Arkansas? I coulda sworn there were sharks. ;)
Can't understand why you gave all that up, Brenda ;)
and you came back empty handed? tsk tsk. There was a bit on the news yesterday about an 8 year old girl who got her first bear with one shot this weekend. A 250 lb black bear. I dont guess the guys will be messing with her when she grows up.
Gee Brenda, you mean to say that you don't like trudging through the fresh plowed fields, in the rain, while wearing a tonnage of camoflauge, carrying around a pair of boots that just seem too big at the moment, not to mention the "gear" and goodness knows what else, while getting lost a dozen & ten times?
There's just something about getting up at the crack of dawn, sitting on a snow packed bank, with more snow falling, temperature below ZERO, seeing your breath, hands & nose frozen, having to wait and wait and wait. Not being able to talk, sigh or hardly breathe, while waiting for "Bambi" to stroll by. Yeah... I got over that too, when I went with my daddy. Didn't take long. Course I think it went something like this:
(daddy saying) "Candy, I think I'll try going out tomorrow a little earlier, so you can sleep in sweetie. Maybe you and Granny can bake up some of those brownies." I mean was that a CLUE or what? Don't have to tell me twice, but gee for some reason, I thought I was keeping daddy company by talking his leg off the whole time we was sitting in the woods. LOL
LOL! Good for you! I gave it up too! Sitting in a deer stand freezing is not my fotae! I went onced and said this is not for me!
Make that C-A-M-O-U-F-L-A-G-E! *smiles*
(damn computer can't spell worth sh*t today!) *chortles*
Well, that sure takes the "hun" out of hunting doesn't it?
I used to live in Ticonderoga, NY, a real hunting town, and I know just what you're talking about. I never did go on a hunting trip, and after reading your post say that thankfully. I hate being cold and wet. and the 50 pounds of mud doesn't sound too great either.
Cas
Oh, boy, I am really glad that Dennis doesn't hunt.
About all I'd be good for on a hunting trip would be to scare the critters off. I'm sure I wouldn't be asked back a second time ;)
I've done some pretty dumb things too in the name of love. No, I'm NOT going to share them with you. I do have some pride, and your's pales in comparison to the fool I have made of myself.
Like you, I'm glad "I'm over it".
What an interesting post - living in the country, I know a lot of hunters but have never experienced it myself. Thanks for letting me know that I'm not missing anything :-)
Brenda,
You crack me up. Good piece of writing. I don't hunt either, but have gone on some hunting trips. At least I kept my shoes on.
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