I started hunting about three years ago - a yearling in the hunting world. My husband, Chad, has been hunting since he was 10 and is one of the most ethical, conscientious, and downright smart hunters out there. We married fairly young and had a family by the age of 25. I spent the first five years of our marriage raising kids and fighting my husband's, at the time obnoxious, obsession with hunting. If Chad had one dollar to his name, he would spend it buying a bag of corn; if he had one opportunity to meet an idol, it would be Michael Waddell; and if he had one morning left on this earth, he would spend it in the deer stand. At the brink of collapse of our marriage I was attending counseling on my own (because Chad couldn't give up an afternoon in the blind) and trying to explain to a straight backed, Polo wearing, spit shined shoe counselor what it was like to be married to a hunter. It is like that Aggie saying, "From the outside looking in, you can't understand it. From the inside looking out, you can't explain it."
Truthfully, if you have never sat in a deer stand and watched the sun rise, or experienced the racing heart rate as a monster buck walks out in front of you, or seen the pride on your husband's face as he helps you take your first kill, you don't understand the first thing about being a hunter. I realized hunting is what makes Chad who he is and why I fell in love with him. I could not ask him to give up his passion, his obsession, the total depth of his existence. I realized that I had to embrace this hobby and join him in these adventures.
I came home one day and told Chad I wanted a bow. We found a cheap bow on the Internet and I started practicing. We started spending more and more time together practicing our shooting, and Chad was patient, kind, loving, and proud. For the first time we were sharing a common interest and spending quality time together. We eventually upgraded my bow to a Hoyt and I was ready for my first big hunting adventure. Chad had taught me how to age a deer, how to identify certain bucks, and how to make the educated decision on which deer to harvest. We had studied trail camera pictures and identified which deer were shooters and which deer to let walk.
Some would call it beginners luck. I call it skill... but my first morning in a deer stand a large four year old eight point came to the feeder just at day break. I watched the deer for several minutes until I felt comfortable with the lighting and had a clear shot. He was about 20 yards from my deer stand. I picked up my bow (thinking my pounding heart is going to scare him off), drew back the string (thinking this is a lot harder to pull back while trying to be discreet), lined up my sights (thinking my hands are shaking so badly, I am going to miss), released my arrow (thinking there is no way I am going to make this shot), and watched the deer's hind legs kick with the arrow penetration and run off carrying my arrow (thinking I am never going to find him). I never had the faith in myself or my skill until I found my deer not 30 yards from where I shot him. Waiting for Chad to get back from his hunt were the longest hours ever! I got to the point I couldn't wait any longer and asked a friend to help me load the deer and bring him in. If you can envision a red faced girl, smiling from ear to ear with blood smeared all over her face and hands, sitting on the truck bed with her prized trophy propped in her lap, that is what Chad saw as he pulled up to the cabin that morning. The smile that crossed his face and pride that glowed in his eyes are visions I will never forget as long as I live.
I love hunting! I love spending time with family. I love the skill, patience, and conservation that you learn. But, more than all of that I love making my husband proud. I love hearing my kids brag about their "mom's big deer". It is a passion, it is an identity, it is a love that can't be explained, and can't be understood.
