Hunting Dialogue
There I was, laying on a beach, wearing nothing but a smile and caressing the soft silky skin... of my journal as I penned the final words to a best seller when the definitive sound of the opening strains to Sweet Home Alabama break up the revelry.
"Mornin'"
"Just thought you would want to know an armed man is sitting in your driveway."
"Oh man, my alarm didn't go off. Give me five minutes."
"No problem. Maybe I'll see something while I'm waiting."
I move my mouse to glance at the temperature. Oh great, 37 degrees, 20 miles an hour wind. Not sure what that figures out to but I'm thinking the wind chill is in the 20's. I put on the ol' longjohns, thermal shirts, hunting jacket, gloves, and ski mask.
"Sheesh Pete, do you know how cold it is?"
"It's a bit chilly. Will make the deer move."
"Ya think? Somehow I think they'll be hunkered down staying warm. Warm would be the operative word there." We drive out to the place, get out and load our guns, start walking. Walking into the wind, I find the joy of trying to manuever through prickly pear and mesquites with fogged up glasses. We make a pass through one pasture, climb a fence, make a run through the next pasture, climb a fence, and finally finish when we have completed the distance of the place.
"We should go down by the creek bed and see if we can jump something up there."
"Uh sure, the creek bed. It can't be all that wet and cold." So I follow Pete to the creek bed and we start to make a pass. We decide I should be the one who actually slides down the creek bank and work my way up the creek. My first step takes me plummeting down the bank.
"Can you be a little more noisy down there?"
"I'm alright. Luckily the briars broke my fall and I'm pretty sure all the skin ripped off my face will grow back with minimal scarring."
"Are you gonna stay down there whinin' or are you gonna start hunting?"
We make it down the creek with only a few struggles to get through the briars. Coming out on the other side of the property, we decide we should circle back towards Pete's truck which means we traverse the whole place again and cross another three fences. The great part is my frontside is now thawing out while my backside is frozen.
The trip back is unsuccessful and as we unload our guns, strip off jackets and buckle up, I hear words of doom come across the cab.
"Wanna try again this afternoon. It is supposed to get up to 47 and the wind isn't supposed to be blowing more than 30 miles an hour." I'm thinking, "are you crazy?" but I hear, with great horror,
"Sure, I'll see you around 3:30."
No deer.
No sense.
No problem.
Sigh.
"Mornin'"
"Just thought you would want to know an armed man is sitting in your driveway."
"Oh man, my alarm didn't go off. Give me five minutes."
"No problem. Maybe I'll see something while I'm waiting."
I move my mouse to glance at the temperature. Oh great, 37 degrees, 20 miles an hour wind. Not sure what that figures out to but I'm thinking the wind chill is in the 20's. I put on the ol' longjohns, thermal shirts, hunting jacket, gloves, and ski mask.
"Sheesh Pete, do you know how cold it is?"
"It's a bit chilly. Will make the deer move."
"Ya think? Somehow I think they'll be hunkered down staying warm. Warm would be the operative word there." We drive out to the place, get out and load our guns, start walking. Walking into the wind, I find the joy of trying to manuever through prickly pear and mesquites with fogged up glasses. We make a pass through one pasture, climb a fence, make a run through the next pasture, climb a fence, and finally finish when we have completed the distance of the place.
"We should go down by the creek bed and see if we can jump something up there."
"Uh sure, the creek bed. It can't be all that wet and cold." So I follow Pete to the creek bed and we start to make a pass. We decide I should be the one who actually slides down the creek bank and work my way up the creek. My first step takes me plummeting down the bank.
"Can you be a little more noisy down there?"
"I'm alright. Luckily the briars broke my fall and I'm pretty sure all the skin ripped off my face will grow back with minimal scarring."
"Are you gonna stay down there whinin' or are you gonna start hunting?"
We make it down the creek with only a few struggles to get through the briars. Coming out on the other side of the property, we decide we should circle back towards Pete's truck which means we traverse the whole place again and cross another three fences. The great part is my frontside is now thawing out while my backside is frozen.
The trip back is unsuccessful and as we unload our guns, strip off jackets and buckle up, I hear words of doom come across the cab.
"Wanna try again this afternoon. It is supposed to get up to 47 and the wind isn't supposed to be blowing more than 30 miles an hour." I'm thinking, "are you crazy?" but I hear, with great horror,
"Sure, I'll see you around 3:30."
No deer.
No sense.
No problem.
Sigh.
Labels: Just stuff
posted by Frustrated Writer | 9:14 AM
3 Comments:
I have never understood what possesses hunters to actually spend all that much time outside in the cold. Yikes. At least you got some good blogging fodder out of it.
You make a great point and have managed to enforce my beliefs about hunting. It is cold, cold, cold.
That is all that is great in hunting! If you cant bear the elements, you dont deserve the kill. Theres always next year.
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