Most you have picked up on the fact that I live in the country, but many of you may not know that Oregon IS country, even if you live in the city. It is not just a lifestyle but a state of mind. Even though I couldn’t find a picture to use in this post, there is a very common bumper sticker here: ORYGUN.
If you haven’t met an Oregonian, but get the chance to, ask them if they hunt. Odds are, they do. If they’re anything like my hubby, they will then spend the next 30 minutes telling you all what their last hunt was or their plans are for hunting next weekend, etc.
When hubby and I were first married, he rifle hunted. This was a fairly short season, which usually netted positive results. For at least 5 years, we had venison in the freezer.
Well about 5 years ago, hubby decided that he wanted to give bow hunting another shot. What he failed to mention, initially, was that bow hunting season lasted far longer than rifle season. It usually starts the last weekend of August and goes into November.
However, the season itself doesn’t include the 3 or 4 weeks prior to opening weekend where hubby gears up for hunting season by watching every possible hunting/outdoor show there is on tv, and spends endless number of hours on the phone with his hunting buddies discussing plans, strategizing, complaining about how the weather stunk last year, but this year is going to be different, yada, yada, yada. Seriously, by the time hunting season rolls around, I am more than happy to help with the packing!
Funny, though, every year before hubby leaves, he voices his regret that I can’t come with him, that he is sure I would love it, it is so beautiful and peaceful. Then he asks, “are you sure you don’t want to get a tag and come with me?” Well, knowing that sometimes we gals shouldn’t say what we think, I say something like, “No, this is time for you to get away from your job and your endless responsibilities around here. Have fun! You deserve it!” However, what I am actually thinking is “Are you freaking kidding me?! Get up at 4 AM to freeze my behind off and sit for hours doing nothing and being quiet to boot? Kill me now. That would be an H-E-double hockey stick NO!”
No, my peace and tranquility are right here, at home, on my feather bed, where I read until I can’t keep my eyes open any longer and don’t feel guilty doing so. I can also have salad for dinner. No meat. Or, no dinner at all for that matter. For a few evenings a year I get to be self-indulgent, and I believe it helps me be a better wife when he returns. I can even usually listen to all his hunting stories with an interested ear.
Yes, I for one, see the hunting season for the blessing that it is. Now, if we could just get some venison or elk in the freezer…