First things first: I absolutely adore my life, my husband and the hunting industry. It’s been a wonderful duck season and it’s hard to believe there are only 2 weeks remaining. But regardless of my involvement in this sport, there are still things I’ll never understand as a hunter’s wife and as a woman…. Maybe you (or your lady) can relate?
First of all, you stink. Can you not smell that? It’s not B.O.; it’s more like a blend of wet dog, swamp mud, musty waders and stale-outside-sweat stink.
We’re way too young to have an 8:15 PM bedtime.
I wonder if the happiness of any other marriages is determined by duck and goose migration patterns?
When you talk about hatches, it reminds me that I need to put eggs on the grocery list. We’re out.
No, I’m not going to eat that duck. I just watched it die. My suburban palate prefers anonymous food.
When you say, “watch out for the shot”, right before I take a bite…well, now I’m DEFINITELY not going to eat that duck.
Don’t be mad at me, but I think I lost the Benelli 20-gauge you got for my birthday. I’ve been looking for it since September… Have you seen it?
When I see our dog soaking wet out here in the freezing blind, my maternal instinct wants to wrap him in a blanket. One more time, are you SURE he’s okay?
If there’s a guy at weather stations who is solely responsible for the daily ”wind” report, he can thank you all for his job security… Because you’re the only ones who actually care about wind speed and direction. Well, you and highrise window washers.
If you always get new Rangers…can’t I just get one Range ROVER?
I’m glad you don’t mind loading my shotgun for me. This French manicure ain’t cheap.
Some of this wild game has been in our freezer for 2 years. PLEASE let me throw it away.
Watching you manually finish off a cripple with your bare hands is, in fact, quite the intimidation tactic. (…Sir.)
When I express that our smelly dogs need a bath, your argument that they take “daily baths” in flooded corn and timber doesn’t count.
Whenever you mention Saskatchewan, I think you’re talking about the mystical Sasquatch.
Thank God you aren’t trying to do the Robertson beard thing, but your lack of shaving during season says otherwise.
Do you HAVE to tune your calls EVERY night?!
I love it when you caress my face like that, but your fingers are caked with dried blood and feather wisps. Just throwin’ that out there.
You got another leak in your waders? Really?
When you give me directions to a blind or random country location in yards and north/south/east/west…I’m always going to make you break it down to mile fractions and right/left/landmarks. I’m a city girl, you need to understand how we do directions.
The Weather Channel online didn’t change its major weather forecast in the past 5 (or 3) minutes. Breathe.
If “decoys for men are like shoes for women”…then baby, I’ve got A LOT of catching up to do. And my shoe collection isn’t exactly small, either.
I secretly get annoyed when you talk about your beautiful “Blondes”… Why can’t the Redhead Duck be cooler? Psh.
The butter compartment in the refrigerator would seem empty without your turkey calls stacked there.
I frequently wake up during season between 2 – 3 AM in a panic that you’ve overslept.
During snow goose season, my friends get confused when I casually mention, “Yeah, my husband likes ‘em young and dumb.”
If we bear a child, no, we cannot name him Drake Hunter Vandemore.
I don’t mind the camo, but I do reserve the right to control your wardrobe every non-hunting day of the year. I believe we covered that in our wedding vows.
You are almost completely deaf. Will you ever wear ear protection around shotguns, or should we just start learning sign language now?
No, I wasn’t scouting for you today while out on my errands.
Around week 3 of snow goose season, you lose the ability to complete sentences and frequently forget my name. As well as yours.
Thank you for letting me enjoy the finer things in life while you’re hunting everyday. The manicures, pedicures, shopping and dinners out are fabulous. When you get the credit card bill, please remember that I have to endure EVERY holiday season and 6 months a year without you…it requires retail and massage therapy at times to cope.
I love our deep morning talks when you leave for work each day: “Bye babe, I’m gonna go make a pile Michael Jordan can’t jump over.”
I think it’s hilarious that your bands are hidden and locked away. As if an extensive collection of bird bands is on your average robber’s list of things to steal. And as if a robber would get very far past a man who shoots a gun for a living.
It’s always a blast to hunt with you…but your incessant monitoring of every movement I make with a shotgun in my hands makes me feel like I’m 5. Maybe 6.
YES, THE SAFETY’S ON.
Thank you for not constantly watching outdoor television, even when you’re on it.
A field of millet will never bring me the joy it brings you. Let’s say I’m excited on the inside?
Yes, I will wear make-up to the field. Yes, I want waders that are more figure-flattering. And yes, I will only wear Under Armour camo, even though I don’t deer hunt, simply because it is the only fitted women’s hunting clothing on the market.
You have over 50 blinds and always “need” more each year… yet when you hunt, you always prefer to sit against a tree. Don’t give me trouble anymore about not “needing” all of the clothes in my closet.
When you want my attention and command, “Here!”… You’ve been around your gundogs a little too long.
I can’t believe you just broke thick sheets of ice with your bare hands to help the ice eaters. What ARE you?!
I’ll never remember all of the topics we need to discuss when we finally have time to have a real conversation after season…so let’s just call it a wash and start over with normal life then?
And last but not least… HOW ARE YOU NOT FRIGGIN’ FREEZING OUT HERE???????!!!!!!!!!
PS: Thank you for giving me all of the other off-season months where you aren’t allowed to shoot things that fly. I love my hunter!!!
Love, The Little Waterfowl Wifey