Winter is close, though, so more time indoors means more time for writing.
It was another awesome summer, catfish were not huge but we found them wherever we went, and aside from the drama of having our tree lines being cut and stolen right out from under our noses, it was quite fun.
Actually that was fun, having the thieves busted at the boat ramp as they tried to make off with all of our lines and quality hooks. We got everything back and taught two young men a lesson about life and the river.
There was an impromptu run to the beach where * sigh * a question was popped. It followed the ring by 4 months. No date yet, just happy.
When summer had had enough of us, it was time to prep the Hunt Camp for occupancy. There was bush hogging, harrowing and planting to get done. There’s also the rearranging of stands and feeders ( it is legal to feed deer here) There were campers to clean out and wood and water to haul. All of this was to be completed by opening day eve. In the midst of a weekend outing (9/11 to be exact) to improve a wooden stand, in the middle of 500 acres my KISA (Knight in Shining Armor) experienced some profuse sweating and weakness. It took about one full minute for me to realize he was in trouble. It WAS hot out, but he was talking funny. I was blessed to have one other soul there who had just ridden off. I called him back and with his help moved dead weight from drivers side to passenger side and drove light speed to Eroom on phone with dispatchers giving info as we approached.
He was conscious enough to hear what I heard. "You are having an acute heart attack."
Dejavu.
Yes I have been here before so I shakily kick it into gear calling family and filling out forms, " maam are you his wife?" I reply yes, out of earshot of him. While I am whisked off to answer a million questions he is being treated w the full force of the whole hospital, small in a small town. Closest heart center 40 miles out. Life-flight or get him stable?? WTH? IDK! So we go to get his opinion to find them trying to calm him as he is proclaiming " Where is she? She’s not my wife but will make all my decisions, write that down now!" And my cover was blown. In these days of HIPA he was terrified that they would shut me out, but they were very understanding and relayed this to heart hospital. He received 3 stents and is recovering well. One month off of work just gave him more time to get camp ready. New rule says he cannot be at camp alone.
Opening weekend offered an 8 pt to the household. It was magically turned into smoked sausage. I saw nothing until two weeks ago when I let a spike walk. Here he is walking….
And my pseudo step-son shot it. Dammit. Keep in mind that hunting, for this household, is a lifestyle. Every stop at martmall starts and ends in sporting goods. There is a reason to stop by some super sporting center once a month. And every weekend plus the week of Thanksgiving are spent at the camp.
I love it. I embrace the 35 footer (it’s a year older than it is long but well maintained), the camp stories, the way I look in camo.
I have not actually physically cleaned a deer, more like offer support and gloves. It’s just that he’s so fast and efficient. I will however do a European mount on anything I am lucky to bag this year. Stepson tried it out and with my internet research, it was a semi success.
I have sat somewhere around 60 hours in various stands. This is the reason I keep going out there.
This hawk teases me about every other weekend.
I hope to have more hunting stories soon!
No comments:
Post a Comment