When I was younger I remember my Dad packing up his orange everything and heading out the door for the first weekends in November to meet his friends out at our cabin to go deer hunting. I had tagged along on many adventures with him in the woods hunting all kinds of different birds. We ate our famous “duck hunting sandwiches” which consisted of liverwurst, which still to this day, I crave in the fall. I loved driving up and down the crazy dirt roads deep in the woods and watching all the wildlife and beautiful fall colors . . . that was until I discovered the mall.
Years went by and that part of my life was left in the shadows. I never realized I missed it – until I met a boy that hunted. My boyfriend at the time, fiancé now, packed up his stuff the same way I remember my Dad did when I was little. It brought back memories of bird hunting, dirt road and those funny sandwiches. I called my Dad to see if we could go bird hunting and he laughed as he said, “of course”. I headed out to our cabin a few times that year to hunt with him again and the memories and fun came back full swing. Then, he started packing up that orange stuff again. I felt I may be missing something, but didn’t think much about it. Then my fiancé packed up his orange stuff and left me home all weekend. I wanted my own orange stuff all of a sudden.
That opening weekend of deer season I went to my local outdoor fitter and bought myself some orange stuff. Being the woman that I am I bought it all, too. I figured I needed some sort of license, and sure enough I did according to the guy who helped me at the store, which I am convinced thought I was going to kill myself that weekend. I packed myself and my black lab into my truck, placed the orange outfit I bought the dog on her, the deer head antenna ornament on the truck, and feeling a little excited and strange at the same time, drove to my father’s deer camp – unannounced.
Needless to say you can imagine his face when I stepped out of the car with bags of orange clothes with the tags still on, the dog in her finest orange Winchester attire, and myself, full grin, heading towards the front door. I didn’t make it to the front door before he was already outside to greet me. I was welcomed into deer camp with open arms and began to understand the orange.
The next morning I sat along side my Dad in our deer stand for what seemed like an eternity as I began wondering if I was completely out of my mind for coming up with this grand idea. Then, out of the corner of my eye – deer! Two deer! My heart pounded so hard I could feel it throughout my entire body. My eyes started watering so hard I dropped a tear every time I blinked. I shook like a leaf. All this and I wasn’t even shooting! My Dad rose up his gun and BOOM the deer fell . . . .
I have never felt anything like it. As the shot still rang in my ears, my Dad and I sat there smiling back and forth. It was one of the best experiences I’ve had with him. I helped him bring the deer out of the woods on the 4 wheeler I usually pass when asked to take a ride on and felt I was officially one of the camp. I did it – even though I myself really didn’t – I did it! I finally understood the orange. Needless to say, I came back for the remaining two weekends that year. I also got a chance to sit in the stand with my fiancé that year . . . another memory I won’t soon forget.
Now most of my girlfriends think I am crazy, of course. However, ever since that weekend I’ve hunted every weekend of deer season. I love it and I’ve yet to get one deer myself. There is something about sitting in that deer stand high in the trees with nothing around you but quiet and peace. The constant search for the deer is exciting, even when you don’t see one. The last weekend of last season I was graduated to my very own deer stand. This year I will start out the season in that same place.
The moral of the story, I guess, is that if you are a woman with a man in your life that enjoys hunting – birds, deer, doesn’t matter – go along once. If you are a man and leave behind a woman that a little piece of you wishes would come along – ask them along once. Hunting is something in life that should be experienced and truly is a gift. A gift to take a few hours out of your day and look around at the things we take for granted. Hopefully, what you may have taken for granted isn’t the person you are sharing the time with. Find your orange, if you will, and be thankful for what you have . . . and the next time you look over in traffic and see an orange hat, smile.
Be safe this hunting season and good luck!
