Throughout my life my mother has given me much advice.   It was part of her job description, after all, to tell her children how to do things. (As a mother myself, it’s a part of my job description, too.  One I secretly enjoy VERY much…but don’t tell my children I said that!)  Being the know-it-all child I was, I ignored some of her advice. (Sorry, Mom.)  However, there is one particular piece of advice that she gave me during my first year of marriage some nineteen years ago that changed my life forever. 

I was sitting in her kitchen one weekend mid-way through deer season complaining once again about my husband being gone to deer camp.  This had become a weekly routine.  He went to deer camp on Friday evening and didn’t come back until Sunday evening.  Even though we had met and dated during deer season the previous year, and I knew the routine before we married, I still did not like it at all.  Forget about him staying home even one weekend during deer season.  He was a true blue hunter dedicated to spending every available minute in pursuit of this addictive creature.  He couldn’t help it.  It was in his blood just as it was in the blood of all male members of his family.  Their wives didn’t complain, at least not openly.  They were used to being “hunting widows” and enjoyed their free weekends shopping and such.  But, not me.  I hated to shop, and being a newlywed, I couldn’t have afforded to anyway!!  On and on I went incessantly complaining and griping to my mother, as I had done all the previous weekends since deer season opened.  I guess she had finally had enough of my ranting.  She cut me off ever so politely by saying, “Well, you can sit here BY YOURSELF complaining, or you can get up and GO WITH HIM!”   What??? Me??? Go hunting???  But, I’m a woman!  Surely, it must be some unwritten law that women don’t invade the male-only territory of the deer camp.  It sounded ridiculous.  The men would probably laugh me out of the camp house if I even tried. 

The more I thought about it, however, the more it sounded like a reasonable solution.  It was obvious I wasn’t going to be able to make him give up any of his precious time in the woods, but what would be so wrong with me tagging along?  I thought about it all weekend trying to figure out the best way to approach the subject when he got home on Sunday.  I was afraid he wouldn’t want me along, so I just sort of casually (and nervously) threw the idea out there.  To my utter surprise, he thought it was a great idea!   I also found out that another club member’s wife had recently begun hunting, and my sister-in-law had wanted to start hunting as well.   Now, I didn’t have to be the lone, out of place woman at the camp.   The very next weekend, I went hunting for the first time.  Even though I didn’t kill anything, I was bitten by “the bug”!!  I fell in love with the woods, the animal, the pursuit, the entire experience.  I quickly understood why my husband hunted and how he couldn’t quit.  I, too, had become addicted to the pursuit of this magnificent animal.  I was so thankful that I had taken my mother’s advice.

It was a couple of years before I actually harvested my first deer.   We were making a man-drive through a little piece of woods comprised mainly of small hardwood saplings not much more than head high.   I was to be a stander and had taken a position in the clear cut fire lane on the edge of the thick patch of saplings.  My husband and another club member were the drivers (or should I say, “walkers”).   As the drive began I could hear my husband and the other driver making their way noisily through the woods shaking rock filled cans and “barking” like dogs.   I temporarily forgot I was supposed to wait QUIETLY for the deer and began laughing hysterically at the multitude of “dog voices” I heard.  They ranged from long, low howls to loud bawls to short, choppy, high-pitched yips.  These two drivers managed to sound like a pack of 4 or 5 dogs hot on the heels of a deer.  I had been enjoying the show for several minutes when I heard something tearing through the thicket heading straight for me.  Though the trees were so thick I couldn’t see what was running at me, I knew by the thrashing of the treetops it was coming straight at me… and coming fast!  With only a few yards to go before bounding out in the open, the deer suddenly turned and ran straight up the line of little trees parallel to the fire lane.   I guess my scent had been picked up.  My heart sunk as I watched the path of the thrashing trees moving away from me.  I was praying that the deer would jump into the fire lane before it was out of range, and it did.  The big doe quickly jumped into the fire lane about 40-yards away from me.  Before I could get my gun up, however, she just as quickly jumped into the thick cover of the other side taking my sinking heart with her. 

I was in the middle of mentally kicking myself for not being quick enough when my thoughts were interrupted once again by the thrashing of trees.  I turned to see the same saplings flopping back and forth in the same line straight toward me.   My heart leaped out of my chest as I waited.  Again, with only mere yards to go, the deer turned and headed away from me following the same path as the big doe.  Knowing I had only about 8 feet of opening in the fire lane, I decided I’d better get ready.  I raised my gun up and put my scope on the place where the big doe had crossed.  That turned out to be a good decision.  Within seconds a smaller doe jumped into my crosshairs.  As soon as she did, I squeezed the trigger.  She fell where she stood.  I nearly did, too!  I can’t explain the rush that came over me, but anyone who has ever hunted knows exactly what I mean.  My friends tell me I let out a loud, “Yahoooo!”  I don’t remember that.  As corny as it sounds, though, I do remember that as I was walking up to look at her, I started singing, “I can bring home the deer meat… fry it up in a pan… and never, ever let him forget he’s a man…’cause I’m a WOMAN!!”  

Though I’ve harvested numerous deer, both bucks and does, since then, that small doe is still my most memorable trophy because it was my first.  My husband was proud of me, too. He had it mounted for me and hung it on the wall right beside his big bucks.  That’s when I knew for sure that he really liked having me as a hunting partner.  His hunting buddies don’t mind either.  They’ve come to respect me as a serious, competent, capable hunter.  They also think it’s pretty neat that he has a wife who doesn’t complain about all the time or money he spends on hunting.  My husband says the only downside is that it costs twice as much!!

I never realized how much of an impact taking my mother’s suggestion would have on my life.   I just thought it would be something fun we could do together.  I didn’t realize it would become a passion, an obsession, a way of life.  Most every single day of the year finds us in the woods feeding our addiction, even if only for a few minutes, to this obsession.  My husband and I spend countless hours together in the woods scouting, planting food plots, hanging stands, and hunting   When we are not in the woods, we are shooting our bows, setting our rifles, or watching hunting videos.  This is time that we would not have together if I didn’t hunt.  Our marriage has been made stronger through the years because of this.  My husband deeply appreciates the fact that, instead of trying to change him, I tried to understand him.  In doing so, I changed myself, my marriage, and my life all for the better.  Thanks, Mom.