If You Take A Mom Hunting

Prior to this weekend getaway in the forest I didn’t know much about hunting. My husband would ramble here and there about it and I gathered a few things, I got the general idea, but I didn’t really get the draw.

It was about a two hour drive to our camp spot. We never talked about hunting. I never asked any questions, the only topic I remember is why horses have to be put down if they break a leg. (Our puppy recently suffered a broken hip in a minorly traumatic accident so this was on our minds.)

We got to where we’d be hunting and he explained a little about the area. So one side of the road was all legal hunting and the other side was off limits.

The first thing he did when we got out was intently start scanning the countryside with his bare eyes. I was looking too…all I saw was trees trees and more trees. On the ‘legal side’ we didn’t see anything. So we crossed the road to check out the ‘off limits’ side.

He was scanning with his eyes for no more than 30 seconds and he suddenly whispered ‘Right there! Can you see them?’

‘Ummm…no.’

He tried in vain to point them out right in front of my nose for quite awhile before they suddenly started appearing to my eyes. A slightly different color than their surroundings, and about the size of almonds on a hillside to our left.

One of them was supposedly the bull, or male and there is only one per herd, I learned, all the rest are cows, or females.

He said, still whispering, ‘Here, look with the binos’

I quickly learned you don’t look through binos with glasses on, plus it was very hard to get the binoculars to point at what I wanted to see. This is a learned talent I think.

I would look through my glasses, find the elk, move the glasses to the top of my head and peer through the bino lenses exactly where I thought the elk should be and they wouldn’t be there, binos down, glasses on, glasses up to top of forehead, binos on, repeat.

I am quite certain husband was second guessing his choice to bring me along.

But I did finally find, with his help, find that evasive bull with the binos.

I can hardly explain it…it was like out of the hillside emerged THE KING OF THE FOREST.

His antlers were MASSIVE and reaching for the sky. It took my breath away.

‘woah’…I was whispering now too.

Husband says, whispering, ‘ok keep him in your sites, I am going to bugle and you tell me what he does.’

Me whispering, ‘ok’

He bugled with his trumpet thingy, it’s so loud, and he was standing right next to me, and not only can I not wear glasses while I am on bino duty, I can’t plug my ears. That part was not fun.

But…

As I watched, the massive bull elk slowly turned his head toward us, stood up and STARED DIRECTLY DOWN THE BINOS INTO MY EYES.

Me whispering, ‘He is staring right at me…’

Husband whispering, *They have terrible eyesight, he can’t see you, I am going to bugle again, tell me what he does.’

So we go through the ear ringing bugle again, and this time the elk did it BACK.

It sounded way deeper and richer than the artificial bugle and gave me goosebumps.

At this point my arms are going numb from holding the binos up so I let them drop for a tiny break.

The elk returned to almond size again, so disappointing, back up go the binos.

We went through the bugle process one more time, and as I watched him, the bull charged a tree stump with his antlers and started thrashing it, after he let out another impressive bugle.

I related this to Shane and he says whispering still, ‘ok we’re gonna follow this trail to our left and get as close as possible.’

So he took off and I obediently followed in his every step, so attentively that I almost crashed into him when he stopped to bugle again. Throughout the hike he would pause and explain bull elk behavior to me in whispers and I would nod and be impressed and then we would carry on doing the elk super sneak.

Once I started to blurt out a question, forgetting to whisper and he whipped around SO FAST and gave me saucer eyes with his finger to his lips and whispered aggressively; ’They have VERY good hearing!’

OK. Very bad eyes, very good ears, got it.

As soon as we began hiking we could no longer see any elk, only hear them, the vegetation and trees are so thick in these parts. So we are just following the bull’s bugle reply.

My mind got to wandering and pretty soon I was planning a trip here with the girls to pick wild flowers and wondering when we were gonna eat and he came to a quick halt again and whipped around to start walking back toward me..

‘One of the cows saw me and went to alert the herd.’ He sort of explained.

Ok.

And suddenly we heard them start to MOVE OUT.

The entire herd was coming crashing down the hillside…I was frozen, my turn for saucer eyes, and watching to see what husband is going to do. There is nowhere for us to go except down the trail or up a tree and I am thinking ‘Are we being attacked??’

The elk were moving through the thick brush and Vine Maples, as I later learned they were called, like it was field grass, but much noisier.

I finally had to ask if they were heading toward us and much to my relief they were not, they were running downhill and away from us and it soon got quiet.

I am not sure what was loudest, the crashing of the elk, the ringing of my ears from the bugle, or my own heart.

Now what. I guess that was enough excitement for one day, just when I was starting to get addicted. We headed back to the truck, and I might add, his bow.

I think it would be proper to note that we did not have any weapons with us on the ‘off limits’ side of the road. He was strictly just seeing how close he could get me to some elk.

Back to the truck and the other side of the road and he did some more bugling just for fun and got another reply, actually from two seperate elk if I recall.

Then to find a camp spot and set up.

After we got the tent up and fire going and griddle hot Shane made us some steaks and I opened us each a salad kit and a can of ginger ale. It was the best dinner ever.

The setting was the best, a fire, the outdoors, SO QUIET, fresh air, just him and me, and excellent food.

I couldn’t quite finish the steak, and I thought ‘I’d like to bring this home to the dogs..’ But I didn’t want to save any bait for predators so I reluctantly threw it on the fire.

And a few minutes later Shane threw his unfinished juicy fragrant leftovers into the weeds about ten feet from our tent.

Then he began to talk about how good breakfast was going to be and some little sneaking thoughts started going off in my head.

You see, when we were grocery shopping earlier that day, he said he wanted eggs, hashbrowns and sausage patties and OJ for breakfast. He put OJ and sausage in the cart and I told him we had plenty of eggs and hashbrowns at home and I would take responsibility for getting them in the cooler.

So he said: ‘Those scrambled eggs are gonna taste so good in the morning.’

‘Umm’ I started, ‘actually I just realized I didn’t get the eggs in the cooler.’

He quickly said, ‘Oh, well sausage and hashbrowns will be good too.’

'‘Umm’ I said again, ‘actually I didn’t get the hashbrowns either.’

‘Oh.’

‘That’s ok, there is orange juice, sausage and orange juice will be just fine.’

Right.

He just didn’t need to know quite yet that I also forgot to grab the hamburger. For lunch the next day. He probably wouldn’t be so agreeable about hamburgers without hamburger.

Sleeping in the wilderness is amazing. If you bring enough layers.

I was using one of the little boys’ cheap thin sleeping bags because mine was nowhere to be found when we were packing. It’s most likely in one of the ‘forts’ they built and camped in all summer. Nice.

I wore every layer I could get on, including my camo, and I still woke at about 3 AM not cold cold, but not really warm either.

Oh well, I had sausage and OJ to look forward to.

But the actual best part of the morning was the campfire coffee. I had brought half n half and sweetener and was all prepared for my morning cup. (Priorities)

But Shane convinced me to just try it black and it was the BEST cup of coffee I have ever had.

We had another amazing day that ended with us pulling that bow string back and ‘BANG’ shooting us an elk.

Just kidding that’s an inside joke.

But we did ‘run into’ so many elk herds that Shane had to keep telling me ‘It’s never like this’ ‘We come up here all the time without seeing any elk’ ‘You are getting very lucky.’

Cool.

So in conclusion, that was the best date ever and I can hardly wait to go again.

And when I do I’ll remember that elk do not attack us.

And to be as quiet as if the elk are sleeping babies.

And leave the half n half at home.

And double check the food list.

And splurge on a decent sleeping bag.

And hide it in the gun safe.

That’s all.

Why Do I Do This Hobby??

Sometimes when I am on putting comics and stories out for you and I get stuck in some technical difficulty with software or apps, or my internet goes down, or the Ipad crashes, or I lose all my work to cyberspace, or some other thing gets in the way of getting what I need done, or the process is overwhelming or I have to start over or make major changes, or I just look around my life and wonder if creating comics is really necessary, I have to ask myself why I do this.

Is it worth it? Is this how I want to spend the time I set aside for myself?

And the answer is absolutely.

Why? Because I enjoy the fun part of the process so much.

And even with the difficulties I learn a little something every time.

And the more I learn the easier it gets and the easier it gets the more I learn.

Every time anyone shares a new story with me, it makes my day, I get excited about drawing it and sharing it with the rest of you.

I love that people trust me to create a drawing of their story.

I love sharing stories of the kids in my own life.

I love the reactions other people have when I share them.

And even if I never shared them it would still be enjoyable.

But joy and laughter are so much better when they’re shared.

Parenting can sometimes leave me feeling grumpy and discouraged, and to find some humor in it really helps me change my perspective.

Seeing life from a child’s point of view is very refreshing.

Yes sometimes they also say the things we’d rather they didn’t, but even then it makes for a good story.

The stories are so relatable, parents can see their own kids in the stories.

I love this hobby so much because it is therapeutic.

The comics make my kids laugh too, and they get to see how I see them.

The comics make me remember what it was like to be a kid.

They remind me of my priorities.

Kids keep it real.

They keep it human.

They keep it innocent.

And I think we could all use a little more of all that.

Kids Are The Best Thing On Earth

Hands down, the best.

I mean I have definitely been in a situation where I feel like I might trade a kid or three for a nice long vacation in a tropical and quiet place….BUT

Would a vacation call me mom?

Or pronounce David like “Dabid"‘?

Or wear two different shoes, on the wrong feet, obviously.

Would a vacation offer to make you five cups of coffee per hour with the Keurig?

Does a vacation melt me with it’s tears on my shoulder when it finally finds me in a crowded cafeteria?

Or we could insert anything in the ‘vacation’ spot…

But still there is nothing on the Earth that is better than kids.

What else would make a fishing pole with a jump rope and stick and be entertained for an entire afternoon?

Or build a whole ‘store’ using all the empty containers from the recycle bin?

Or spend a whole day cutting up cardboard boxes making everything from a boat, to a flag, to a sword?

Who else would point out the obvious like crooked teeth and nose hairs?

Or freely tell you that your breath stinks?

What else would fill your windowsill with dandelions and special rocks?

Or insist on 15 kisses at bedtime?

Or burry the refrigerator in masterpieces of art?

Just so many reasons kids are the best thing on Earth.

I feel like I could go on for awhile here, but I asked my husband what he thought was the best thing about kids…and he said their unconditional love.

So I guess I’ll finish with that.

We are so lucky to have the unconditional love of these funny little characters.

We Don't Spit

In our house, don’t spit.

Or so I thought.

The other day I was doing my daily duties, scrubbing, tidying, putting away, folding and changing over laundry, etc., while my four year old followed me around, as usual.

He is always there, telling me how to do my job, letting me know what he wants, giving me updates on what all the pets are up to, and asking a million questions.

This particular day, during a quiet moment as I carried a basket of laundry and he followed in my steps, I heard; “hack-pa-tew'“.

I turned around with my brows furrowed and said; “Did you just spit?”

“Yep!” he replied proudly.

“Ok, that is really acky, we don’t spit in the house, on the floor, you need to wipe it up.”

‘Ok.”

I waited for him to wipe it up with a tissue and we carried on.

I truly thought that was the end of that. I know better than to think that, but I did anyway.

A little later the same day, he was sitting on his stool at the kitchen island, I was at the sink with my back to him and I heard it again; “hack-pa-tew”

I whipped around, and found him with his little fist wrapped in the hem of his shirt and vigorously scrubbing the counter.

“Evan! Did you just spit on the counter?!”

“Yep! It was dirty…but it’s not anymore, I cleaned it off!”

“Ok Ev, we don’t use our spit to clean counters, our spit has acky germs, here, you can clean it with a washcloth.”

“Ok” he chirped, and washed away.

The day went on and we had to run an errand in the car, aaaaaand here we go again, it’s quiet and I hear “hack-pa-tew”

I look in my rearview mirror and exclaim “Evan! Did you just spit in my car?” (The asking is a little redundant on my part. Just making sure I’m not jumping to conclusions ya know, maybe that sound could mean something else…)

“Yep!” “I’m cleaning the window!”

“Ev, we don’t use spit to clean anything, anywhere, EVER, OKAY?”

“Okay’ he says agreeably.

A short time later, we are home, I have full arms and am walking across the front porch with Evan close behind.

And, not kidding, I hear “hack-pa-tew” AGAIN.

I whip around, and giving him the big crazy eyes, say very firmly:

“EVAN (MIDDLE NAME)!! WE DO NOT SPIT!!

He stares back, unperturbed and retorts:

“Dad does.”

Groan. And sigh.

“Ok, you’re right, but dad is a grown man, and too old to train…”

“You are my four year old boy, and you are not allowed to spit anywhere in or near the house, or your mom, no more of that!”

“Ok.” He agreed.

So fast forward to the next Monday when a few kids missed the bus, and I had to run them to school.

The first grade boy is giving me a quick hug and kiss before he gets out of the van, and I notice he has a black permanent marker streak across his forehead.

“Hold on kid, let me clean that marker off your head.”

And I scrounge around the front of the van until I find a pack of wipes.

And as it would be, the bag was left open and the last little pile of wipes are completely dried out.

And my water bottle is empty. It is Monday after all.

So there I was, parked in front of school, spitting on a wet wipe and using it to clean my kid’s forehead.

While the four year old watched it all, and he never said a word.