Come Back Here You Wascally Wabbit!

Hunting season is upon us. Now my husband has been hunting since he could practically walk. He's been to lots of different places all over the world, and he's hunted all kinds of game. But, as he's gotten older (haven't we all?) he suspiciously has come home with less and less prizes. He is a great hunter, and he only hunts what we (ok-mostly he and the kids) will eat. He is great with a cross bow, rifles, practically Rambo in First Blood. He HAS gotten Boar before. Maybe he IS Rambo? I never have seen them together.

Anyway, as with anything else, you would think your skills improve over time. But increasingly, hubby goes hunting and returns from a week in a VERY rustic cabin with the boys (5 of whom have sleep apnea---I can't imagine there's a deer for miles that's had a good night's sleep while they're there!) and yet he returns having killed nothing more than a bottle of good scotch. The only thing that get's bagged is him.

A few years back, he's up at Camp Catch a Buzz with four of his buddies. It's freezing, there's a good bit of snow o the ground, and each hunter goes off before the crack of dawn in a different direction, so as not to pull a Dick Cheney. They huddle in tree stands for hours, not moving, freezing off various body parts,...and hopefully they sight and bag something other than each other.

Well, his brother and friends all head out, and hubby decides to wait for the sun to come up a little and warm the unfriendly skies some. At one point, hunny decides to go outside to check weather conditions(probably to make another exscuse not to be freezing in a tree stand some where 50 feet off the ground. He looks out the door, and what does he see right next to their truck, but a beautiful 8 point buck. He reaches inside the door to Camp Kill a Bottle, grabs his rifle, makes a perfect kill shot, while still in his skivies (now, dear reader, that IS a sight!). He's back in front ot the fire with a glass of scotch as the others return mid day with frozen facial hair and empty hands. Rumor has it, he made the shot through the two open front windows of his brother's pick up. He swears he would've made the shot whether they were open or not!

He fancies himself a man's man, my baby-love, (no, we are NOT talking Broke back Mountain---I don't think!), and he prides himself on his fishing and hunting prowess. He is a big, burly, handsome man who takes pride in filling his family's freezer. And we are immensely proud of his talents.

Of course, not every year does the game come to you, and thus as he heads to Camp this year, it is more likely that he will carry home a hang over and not much else. Thank God we have King Kullen to pick up the slack!