Tomorrow is the day many hunters have been waiting for—opening day of rifle season. My dad and my oldest son are two of those.
The tags have been picked up, all the orange garb is out, deer trailers are in place, and the boys are ready to go.
But what about the mom? Sure I could go sit out with him. Well, except it probably wouldn’t be cool to leave my special needs kiddo & 97 yr old grandfather home alone.
There is no roughing it for my dad & my son. They have built deer trailers similar to these complete with chairs & heaters. They have tree stands too but why sit in those if you can sit in one of these.
This is what my mornings are usually comprised of. Actually it’s more texting now but you get the idea.
It was all great when the guys went out hunting…right up until I had a son old enough to be out in a trailer by himself. They hunt close enough that I can hear the shots. Sound travels so I can hear others too.
I’m at home but every shot I hear results in me sending texts to my dad & my son to see if it was either of them. And then if my son doesn’t answer it is more & more frantic texts. Now seriously, if he’s just shot a deer, and it didn’t drop, is he really going to stop watching it to answer my text? No, but he should in my mind.
I’m the official photographer. My role in this hunting expedition is to show up and take all the appropriate pictures with the perfect poses of their prize. I actually like this part. It means I can stop texting “was that you?” “Answer me” “if you don’t text back in 3 minutes I’m driving out there!”
Then there’s the processing. My parent’s process any deer they or my son get. And usually one or two from friends of theirs. And they use just about everything. I’m lucky that I have historically got to skip out on this. My son has started helping and actually field dressed his first deer on his own last year. They have tanned hides and mounted antlers. They don’t just hunt for the sport of it, we eat it all year long.
So as a mom, deer season will open in a few short hours. Someone should probably give me Valium to take while the boys are in the fields. I will text. They know me well enough to know they better answer. I won’t see much of them all weekend as they hole up in their trailers, coming in to fill their bellies and take a nap before heading back out.
We’re all hoping for them to get a big buck opening weekend. It keeps them from being crabby as the season progresses and their friends get deer or the season threatens to be over and neither one of them have gotten one.
To all the wives, moms, and daughters of hunters (that don’t hunt with them)— just face it, you’ll see them again in 10 days when rifle season is over. For the next 10 days your job is simply to feed them, let them nap, and encourage them if they still haven’t seen anything! So here’s to ten days of a quieter house. Ten days of a nervous mom! Ten days of a stinky son (wouldn’t want the deer to smell soap). Ten days waiting impatiently to be their official photographer and biggest cheerleader.