Hunting season at our house is another holiday, thrown in there just before Thanksgiving, but from personal experience, I know it’s something the men have in the back of their heads all year long. I guess that’s pretty typical, when it comes right down to it.
This year, I opted not to bother my guys by tagging along with them out to the woods. The Sunday of opening weekend brought fog, rain and just plain yuck, and I couldn’t muster the energy. Instead, I prepared a nice, old fashioned Sunday dinner, which included a pork roast slow-cooking all morning in my crock. Oh, those pigs we raised for months! Just cannot beat homegrown meat.
Opening morning brought success for our son; he bagged a nice 10-point buck. I heard all about the elusiveness of this critter and how he kept up a methodical, moseying-forward kind of walk until a good shot was sighted in. Rehashing the whole story, our son even started at the beginning where every year he said he and his dad get out of the truck, shake hands and with a shoulder hug, a pat on the back and a “Go get ‘em!” they each trek out in different directions to their stands.
Our boy’s eyes sparkle with the excitement of the hunt. His words, “I love the tradition, the camaraderie, the getting ready, getting the deer stands set up beforehand. Dad’s all amped. It’s all fun. And Dad’s happy if I get one, and I’m happy if he gets one. It’s all good.”
Friday night before the hunt, he stopped on the way home to pick up some refreshments. I found them opening morning in the fridge with a note: “For when I shoot the big one.” This kid is nothing if not confident. He bought a six-pack of New Glarus brew, brewed in Wisconsin and as the label suggests, “With the finest Wisconsin malts and we even give a nod to our farmers with a little hint of corn,” appropriately called, “Spotted Cow.”
I told him that he was pretty self-assured that he would actually be shooting a buck, writing that note ahead of time. Quick as lightning he came back with, “And if I didn’t shoot one, Mom, I’d throw the note away and drown my sorrows, simple as that.”
Opening morning, following our family tradition, I had a thermos of hot chocolate, sunflower seeds, beef jerky, chocolate chip cookies and mini banana muffins ready to grab and go. During the hustle and bustle I hauled out my cell and started videotaping the getting ready process to text to our daughter, who unfortunately could not be home opening weekend. Her dad and brother each talked to her on camera, letting her know she’d be missed and that they’re “holding down the fort” for her.
This year, a couple of our son’s friends were back in town to join each one of their families for the hunt. It’s not so much about the deer you shoot, it’s the memories you make that last. The deer hunt itself is almost secondary. It’s the reason they gather together, coming back home for the hunt.
These boys are childhood friends that have kept in touch throughout the years. When they walked through our door Sunday afternoon and filled up our couch, it warmed my heart. Such energy! Such zest! It took me back to high school Fridays before their games those nights, eating and hanging out at our place.
An extension of our family, these boys have been raised with a deep sense of commitment to their faith and individual families, and it’s been a pleasure watching them grow. Our son, along with his friends, have gone on to college, graduated with degrees and are now working, one as a teacher in an inner-city junior high school, one as an account manager and one as a graphic designer, each one excelling in their individual careers.
Ah yes, meeting up with friends, enjoying family traditions and camaraderie, along with a successful hunting season, all make for some wonderful memories. As a bonus, we can look forward to some venison sausage sandwiches for our tractor lunches this coming spring. All good!
(“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of heavenly lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.” James 1:17)
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