It’s official: hunting season is here.
Today is opening day of bow hunting season here in Rochester, a day that’s been eagerly anticipated by darling husband and his friends and family. His cousin Christine lamented this week that she wouldn’t see her husband for the next couple of months.
She’s got it good. Hunting is on my darling husband’s mind 365 days a year.
Officially, hunting season is just a few months out of the year. In reality, though, it’s a year-round activity that includes planning food plots, planting food plots, managing food plots, studying deer habits, scouting perfect tree stand locations, hanging tree stands, organizing hunting equipment, walking the land, and getting together to talk about hunting.
And let’s not forget the countless hours spent pouring over the Cabela’s cataloges, ordering stuff, trying out stuff, sending stuff back, and getting new stuff. The customer service reps for Cabela’s deserve a gold star and a big bonus for dealing with darling husband’s inability to make a decision and stick with it.
As much as I joke, I understand the obsession with the activity. Some men play golf, some play poker, my husband likes to be in the woods. At least we get a tasty meal out of it.
What I don’t get is the need for all of the stuff.
Take a look at one wall of darling husband’s hunting room, or as our daughter calls it, “the kill room”:
Everything matches – jackets and pants are the same pattern from the same manufacturer, and even with the same amount of wear. Did you notice the varying foliage patterns? He’s ready for full foliage, partial foliage, no foliage, warm weather, cold weather, and everything in between.
All of the hunting gear has been washed in scent-free detergent and dried with unscented (or sometimes dirt scented) dryer sheets, and then stored in old ice chests to avoid scent contamination. This week I accidentally opened one of the chests looking for some camping equipment and told David about it. He went bug-eyed, and I suspect darling husband re-washed the gear stored in there, just to be sure.
I’ve often wondered how the pioneers settled the west without dirt-scented dryer sheets.
And so it begins, opening weekend of bow season. Then comes shotgun season, and I think another few weeks of bow season, and muzzle loader season is in there somewhere. If he’s not hunting, David will be helping flush deer out of the woods, tracking a wounded deer, helping to process a deer, and generally having the time of his life.
I, on the other hand, will be snuggled up on the couch watching reruns of “Fringe” and “The Office” on Netflix and sharing popcorn with the dogs and cat, relaxing and napping to my heart’s content.
Ah, you gotta love hunting season.