Here We Go Again

It's that time of the year again.  It's not pumpkin spice season, it's not Halloween or Thanksgiving or Election time, it's hunting season.  It's the most wonderful time of the year, according to my beloved and our offspring...one of them anyway.  Eldest boy is a bit more like his mama, hunting is awesome but I really, really don't want to do it.  Son the Younger has been an enthusiastic participant in this yearly adventure since he was about eight years old.  

Hunting season is a multi phase event, each phase is distinct and as important as the hunt itself. The following is a chronicle of this annual undertaking:

Phase One: Discussion

This phase consists of an extensive rehash of the previous year's hunt, topics include:

Deer seen

 Trail cam photos referenced

     Annual claim that deer are living in the back yard

     Occasional claim that a bear is living in the back yard

     My interjection that someone is drunk or insane

     Topic tabled

Deer not seen

     Lengthy exchange about deer others have seen

Deer seen and not shot at

Deer seen, shot at and missed

      ALWAYS a gigantic, monster, Bigfoot buck that can read and drive a car

Deer seen, shot at and hit

     Quality of hit

     Crappiness of missed shots

     Spirited debate about who had the crappier miss

     Consultation with other hunting party members about the crappiness of same

     One party deciding the other party and the rest of the hunting party are full of shit

     Discussion Tabled after offense is taken

Deer hit with Elder’s car that one year

     Elder is still salty about it

     Reminder that he has a different car now

     Description of that deer grows exponentially with every retelling

Other wildlife seen

     Usually mundane stuff, birds and such

     Discussion of asshole squirrels that warn the deer away

     Guilty admission of unloading the shotgun at offending asshole squirrel

     Spirited insult throwing that one or the other didn't even hit the squirrel

Poop sightings

     Debate over origin of sighted poop

     It’s not a bear, Bigfoot or dinosaur

     Might be a bear

     Probably a moose

     Turns out it's a dog

     I cannot believe how long the poop discussion has gone on

     Debate over use of the term “scat”

          Stop it, you’re not Jack Hanna

          Debate over the supremacy of Jack Hanna vs. Marlon Perkins vs. Steve Irwin vs. Wild Kratts

Phase Two: Strategy

This phase usually involves analysis of weather forecasts, trail cam video, water levels in ditches, maps, satellite imaging and input from Stephen Hawking.

Who

     How many said they’re going

     How many are actually going

     Someone is bringing their cousin/nephew/co worker/idiot brother in law/some guy

          Detailed dissemination of everything we know about the potential interloper

          Assumptions made, debated and discarded

          Grumpy acceptance of new person

     The traditional and ceremonial insistence that I come hunting this year

          I politely decline

          My beloved pushes the issue

          I decline, less politely this time

          My beloved insists

          Son The Younger suggests dad shut up now

          Dad doesn’t shut up

          I decline through clenched teeth with a hissed threat to drag him to Lowe’s again

          My beloved drops it

What

     The recitation of what we need vs what we have begins

     This is repeated three to twenty times over the next two weeks as items are stored in multiple locations that make no sense to anyone but my Beloved

     I refrain from pointing out that the large ORANGE Rubbermaid tote purchased by me for the hunting gear several years ago is currently occupied only by one pair of boots of unknown provenance

     A list is not made, my Beloved insists he’ll remember everything

    Things are forgotten or double counted

     The same question is asked repeatedly

     The mere suggestion of writing things down is treated as an insult

     Three more boxes of shells are purchased

          The three boxes from last year are found

          As are the three from the year before

     Buck scent (yes, a bottle of pee) is not located

          Bottles are bought

          Other bottles are found

           We have many bottles of pee

          I again question my life choices as two of the members of my household have a lively debate about deer pee.

     What is happening here?

     A list is made, lots of muttering and dirty looks, I try not to look too smug

     The Blind is examined

          87 things are found wrong

         Options are discussed

          New blinds are priced out

           Blind is reassessed

           Duct tape is deployed

          The blind is actually fine

     The Guns are brought out

          Commence lecture about cleaning 

          Commence lecture about touching

          Commence lecture about shooting

          Commence lecture about deer

          I Commence drinking wine

               Continue drinking wine

               Fall asleep and insult my Beloved

     Blaze Orange Bonanza

           Six hooded sweatshirts

          Two vests

           Seven and a half pairs of gloves

          Four sets of long underwear

          I question the necessity of blaze orange underwear and am shot a quelling look

          Eight pair of socks

               I do not say a thing

          127 hats, I swear to God

          Eleven full face masks

All of this is hung outside in the universal sign that hunters live here, I think there is a deeper code here but cannot get confirmation.

     Commence lecture about neutral smells

     I do not roll my eyes during the no laundry/no shower/no shampoo talk.

          Yearly reminder from me that no shower = no physical contact

          I’ve insulted him again, not sorry

     I put my foot down about the purchase of another blaze orange item.

          Three more show up the next day

          Both deny any knowledge

          They’re colluding, I know it

How

     Can’t tell you a thing, my eyes have glazed over and my brain is currently rejecting any hunting related talk.

     My Beloved just asked me a question, he’s looking expectant

          I panic and say yes

          The surprise and delight on my Beloved’s face tells me I’m probably in deep trouble

          I just agreed to buy a license so we can get an extra deer

          The implications are horrifying

               I will have to go

               We could potentially get THREE deer

               I'm going to have to empty the chest freezer

               I'm going to have to buy a new chest freezer

          Steps must be taken

               I need a way out of this

               My brain whirls with ideas

                    Coming up with nothing

                    I'm struck with inspiration

          Sacrifices must be made

               This is every man for himself

               I point out that Elder Son has never been hunting

               The look of betrayal flung my way does not sway me

               My Beloved is delighted at the thought

               I have no regrets

               I'm going to have to make amends at some point but today is not that day

Phase Three: Preparation (you thought the preceding was the prep? Silly rabbits)

This phase covers food shopping, the Laying Out Of The Gear, Blind Assembly and a lot of storming around the house in one’s underwear while attempting to communicate to the second floor of the house from either the garage or the basement.  This is a delicate phase and must be navigated with caution, diplomacy and quite a bit of finesse as the participants are nervous and easily startled.

Food Shopping

     This is usually the extent of my involvement, I buy food and cook it

     The wilds of the grocery store is as far as I venture

     Trust me, it’s not all that civilized in those days before 

          Bread, lunch meat and certain snacks are at a premium and their purchase can only be done in dark alleys out of the back of trucks from sketchy box boys and carry outs with a bad attitude and an ax to grind against the man.

     Portable food that doesn't smell like anything is not easily achieved

     Baked goods are treated as manna from the Gods

     Noisy food is banned

     Nothing can smell like anything, this cannot be overstated.

     The list of specifications is extensive

          Fine, Fig Newtons, one banana, soy milk and lefse it is

         Don't give me a look, that’s all that fits within your goddamned parameters

Blind Assembly

     This takes place the week before and involves a lot of argument that I am not privy to, I have no information on this ritual

     Someone usually comes home and stomps upstairs for a while

The Laying of The Gear

     This is done over the course of the three days (or weeks, who can say?) before The Hunt

     Finding ammunition in the bathroom and deer pee in the bookcase is not considered strange during this phase

     The dining room table disappears under a pile of orange accessories

     Long guns on the couch is par for the course

     Panic ensues when the key for the gun locks is temporarily misplaced

     Hence, the shouting up the stairs while in underwear

     My work done, the food laid in, I'm for bed

Phase Four: The Hunt

The Wee Hours

     They’re up and moving before God is awake to head off into the woods

     Despite the elaborate and extensive preparations, many questions seem to linger

     Many, many trips up and down the stairs

     Seriously, stop turning the hall light on when my door is open

          Please shut the door if you need the hall light

          Please turn the light off before you leave

          That does it, light bulb removed

               Now the light switch is being flipped on and off repeatedly

               OH GOD NO He’s looking for the bulb

               He’s standing next to the bed, isn’t he?

               He KNOWS

               Bulb? What bulb?

               WHY DO YOU NEED IT?

          Muttering

          The distinct crash that indicates a fall down the stairs

               More muttering and some very creative swearing

     Many trips in and out of the garage

     Door slam

     Into the house again

     Back to garage

     Door slam

     There’s the back door

     Door slam

     I'm in hell

     HOW MANY DOORS DOES THE CAR ACTUALLY HAVE????

          Twelve. The number is twelve based on car door slams

     The car has started, we’re so close.

     Don’t turn the car off! Why are you turning it off?

     You were almost gone. Go!

     Garage door slam

     House door slam

          Someone is getting the guns

     Car starts again

     They’re away!

     Time to go back to sleep

          …

          …

     What’s that noise?

          They’re back?

          They’re back.

          Car door slam

          Garage door slam

          House door slam

          Muttering

          Light switch flipped on and off and on...and off

                More muttering

           Ammunition is located and taken

           House door slam

           Garage door slam

           Car door slam

           Please God let them be gone for real this time

           … 

           … 

           … 

          Okay. Gone.

                But I’m awake now.

                It's 4:30

                That sucks

There you have it, this is what takes place in my house every year during the run up to hunting.  My Beloved is a low key guy that turns into a complete lunatic once a year but as he tolerates and even embraces my everyday insanity, I totally roll with it.  There are only a few things that he gets this worked up about, hunting with his boy (or, this year, boys) is one of his very favorite things. My kind of crazy is all day, every day, his comes only once a year.