I
grew up in a household that enjoyed hunting.
Every year my father made the annual pheasant pilgrimage back home to
Kansas. He also spent time hunting
javelina and an occasional deer, but he was a rifle hunter. The only kind of bow and arrow that we ever
encountered was the colorful plastic variety one could find at the local dime
store counter. Yes, remember those. They
had that great little rubber dealy that if you spit in it before you shot it,
it would stick to any hard plastic item for days. That was the sum total of my experience with
bows and arrows.
Once
I embarked upon married life, I discovered there was a hunting world that did
not involve rifles, shotguns, cartridges, shells, or any kind of powder. This world involved compound bows, arrows
with razor sharp blades, skunk scent, deer scent, camouflage everything,
unscented soap, and intricate devices to help the archer sight in on game. The list of items a bow hunter requires for
his or her craft is probably longer than any six-year-old’s Christmas
list. And, it is more fascinating to
read.
In
fact, like most young, poor newlyweds, we did not have all many belongings--or
so I thought. I had not seen my new
husband’s hunting supplies. It did not
take long for me to realize he needed the whole spare bedroom in our cozy
little house (read--very small house) for his hunting “stuff.” And the whole back porch. And the shed out back. Bow hunters have a lot of “stuff.”
In
time, I became familiar with his bow-hunter jargon, but the one thing I could never
understand is why someone would be so picky about the laundry soap and bath
soap he used when all he was going to do was sprinkle a little skunk scent on
himself anyway. In short time, I learned
to check his pockets before I washed his clothes. It only took one teensy leak from one of
those little squirt bottles of stinky stuff before I knew I did not want that
stuff leaking in my wash machine or anywhere else every again.
Over
the years, my hunter has sworn off the skunk scent--thank goodness. It got to be hard to greet him
enthusiastically when he returned home from his deer stand. However, he still has some of the oddest
items lying about his “spare room.” I’ll
find a pair of antlers joined by a leather strap. He uses these to rattle in a deer during the
rut. In addition, he has some really
strange little item attached to his bowstring that looks like a mutant
spider. According to him, it is suppose
to quiet the twang when he shoots.
Now
that we live in the country, he has spread out his stuff into the countryside.
Last spring he began building what he called the mother of all targets. And it is!
Not only does he mow our yard.
Now he mows a clear pathway to the target so there is no interference
with his sighting process. He can shoot straight on from the ground, or he can
climb into his strategically placed tree stand (read attached to a utility
pole) to practice shooting from heights.
In
the beginning, I thought he was going to a lot of work for a deer, but over the
years, I have learned he gets to see more, hear more, know more than most rifle
hunters. Many years, he doesn’t even get a deer, but he comes home with the
best stories.
One year, he watched two large bucks battle until
their antlers locked, and one flipped the other over its back Ninja fashion. As he told this story, I envisioned Outdoor Life buying roles of film of
this event. Of course, he didn’t have a camera with him in the tree. He has skunk stories and coyote stories as
well as deer stories from his tree-top vantage.
Over
the years, I have learned the point of his hunt is that it is more than
bringing game home. For him and other
hunters like him, time in the woods, observing animals in their habitat is the
best part of the hunt.
Even
though I still rifle hunt when I do hunt, I take advantage of his experience,
(No, not the skunk scent) and I sit under his tree stand as I wait for my deer
to come by. Does this mean I do a lot of
sitting and shivering? Yep, it does. Do I get just a little insight of why he
loves to get up in the dark, frozen hours of the morning to climb into his tree
stand? Do I understand why he never
complains about not bringing home a deer?
You bet.
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