Post by FWS on May 6, 2014 9:27:24 GMT -6
Why Being Married To A Hunter Isn't The Dream You Imagine It To Be
By Rick Bohning
Chicago Now
May 6, 2014
Being married to a hunter can cause certain stresses on a marriage. Stresses that normal people do not experience. One stress is the notion of the hunting widow. The hunting widow is the good spouse who has lost their partner to the other love: hunting.
This year was particularly bad for my long suffering wife. Sharptail grouse hunting season opened in Montana on September 1, so out to Montana I went. October 1 starts the hunting season for deer. I took off one weekend from deer season to hunt ruffed grouse and woodcock. November 1 is the kickoff of pheasant hunting season. That season closes at the end of December, but there are still preserves open for more pheasant hunting. Plus, if you are a falconer like me, we get longer hunting seasons...all the way to the end of March.
At this writing, it is the start of May. Turkey season has been open for a couple of weeks, and I am heading out to hunt turkey this weekend. About Memorial Day, I come stumbling in from the woods.
Being married to a hunter (when not a hunter ones' self) causes additional difficulties beyond absenteeism. Sometimes, the spouse is drafted to help with some unsavory tasks. Tasks that no 10 year old girl dressed up in her mother's wedding gown could have ever imagined. To wit, I share this story:
Five years ago, I harvested my first deer. I brought the carcass home from Michigan, since I planned to do the butchering myself. In order to break down the animal into ground beef, steaks, chops, and roasts, the animal is usually hung by the back legs. This makes all of the subsequent tasks much easier to accomplish than if the carcass had been on the floor. I harvested the animal 3 hours from where I planned to break the carcass down.
By the time I got home, the deer was stiff and cold. I needed to get the carcass hung up so I could proceed to break down the deer. Most people who hunt deer own a thing called a gambrel. This device uses the magic of pulleys to reduce the effort required in hoisting the deer into the air. This high tech device cost all of $30. Since I am a tightwad, I had no such thing. What I did have was a hook to hang a bicycle and a piece of old clothesline.
I tied the line to the deer's leg and threw the remarkably thin cord over the hook. I grabbed the line and hoisted...myself off the ground. The weight of the deer and the friction of the hook conspired against me. Curses on you, physics! I tried some tricks where I would pull up on the side of the line tied to the deer and down on the opposite side. Eventually, this accomplished breaking the cord into two cords, both remarkably thin and now shorter.
As I quietly wept in the garage, my ever supportive wife came to see me. She stated those 4 words that I believe haunt her to this day: "How can I help?"
I explained to her that the rope is strong enough to hold the deer suspended, but I do not have enough strength to hoist the deer. What I need is someone to lift the deer as someone else takes up the slack. My lovely wife got the deer side of this equation.
So, as I hoisted the deer with the ropes, my wife was bear hugging the carcass and lifting it up slightly so I could take up some slack. As the deer rose higher off the ground, this activity required her to bear-hug the carcass, sometimes with her face inches from the deceased beast's nether regions. Now tired and covered with hair and gore and non-too-pleased, my wife went inside to wash her now filthy clothes. I proceeded to continue the task of skinning and breaking down the carcass.
This was in early November. Remember that wonderful device called a gambrel? I got a shiny new one for Christmas from my wife. When I recounted this story to a female coworker (who thinks camping is staying at a Motel 6), I concluded with the observation: "You know, I should really buy her some flowers."
Without missing a beat, my coworker replied, "You really should buy her a Mercedes."
By Rick Bohning
Chicago Now
May 6, 2014
Being married to a hunter can cause certain stresses on a marriage. Stresses that normal people do not experience. One stress is the notion of the hunting widow. The hunting widow is the good spouse who has lost their partner to the other love: hunting.
This year was particularly bad for my long suffering wife. Sharptail grouse hunting season opened in Montana on September 1, so out to Montana I went. October 1 starts the hunting season for deer. I took off one weekend from deer season to hunt ruffed grouse and woodcock. November 1 is the kickoff of pheasant hunting season. That season closes at the end of December, but there are still preserves open for more pheasant hunting. Plus, if you are a falconer like me, we get longer hunting seasons...all the way to the end of March.
At this writing, it is the start of May. Turkey season has been open for a couple of weeks, and I am heading out to hunt turkey this weekend. About Memorial Day, I come stumbling in from the woods.
Being married to a hunter (when not a hunter ones' self) causes additional difficulties beyond absenteeism. Sometimes, the spouse is drafted to help with some unsavory tasks. Tasks that no 10 year old girl dressed up in her mother's wedding gown could have ever imagined. To wit, I share this story:
Five years ago, I harvested my first deer. I brought the carcass home from Michigan, since I planned to do the butchering myself. In order to break down the animal into ground beef, steaks, chops, and roasts, the animal is usually hung by the back legs. This makes all of the subsequent tasks much easier to accomplish than if the carcass had been on the floor. I harvested the animal 3 hours from where I planned to break the carcass down.
By the time I got home, the deer was stiff and cold. I needed to get the carcass hung up so I could proceed to break down the deer. Most people who hunt deer own a thing called a gambrel. This device uses the magic of pulleys to reduce the effort required in hoisting the deer into the air. This high tech device cost all of $30. Since I am a tightwad, I had no such thing. What I did have was a hook to hang a bicycle and a piece of old clothesline.
I tied the line to the deer's leg and threw the remarkably thin cord over the hook. I grabbed the line and hoisted...myself off the ground. The weight of the deer and the friction of the hook conspired against me. Curses on you, physics! I tried some tricks where I would pull up on the side of the line tied to the deer and down on the opposite side. Eventually, this accomplished breaking the cord into two cords, both remarkably thin and now shorter.
As I quietly wept in the garage, my ever supportive wife came to see me. She stated those 4 words that I believe haunt her to this day: "How can I help?"
I explained to her that the rope is strong enough to hold the deer suspended, but I do not have enough strength to hoist the deer. What I need is someone to lift the deer as someone else takes up the slack. My lovely wife got the deer side of this equation.
So, as I hoisted the deer with the ropes, my wife was bear hugging the carcass and lifting it up slightly so I could take up some slack. As the deer rose higher off the ground, this activity required her to bear-hug the carcass, sometimes with her face inches from the deceased beast's nether regions. Now tired and covered with hair and gore and non-too-pleased, my wife went inside to wash her now filthy clothes. I proceeded to continue the task of skinning and breaking down the carcass.
This was in early November. Remember that wonderful device called a gambrel? I got a shiny new one for Christmas from my wife. When I recounted this story to a female coworker (who thinks camping is staying at a Motel 6), I concluded with the observation: "You know, I should really buy her some flowers."
Without missing a beat, my coworker replied, "You really should buy her a Mercedes."
