Woe is me, the Whitetail Widow

“I launched my new blog today,” I told my husband excitedly when he came in the door from work. “Oh, good,” he said, mustering as much enthusiasm as he could. (Bless his heart, he’s a wonderful husband, but his world doesn’t exactly overlap with my world of online publishing.) Then, I saw a sparkle in his eyes. One that made my heart jump a little, hopeful that he was finally getting just as giddy as I am about this new web venture. “Guess what else happens today?”, he asked. “Deer season starts,” he said in a singsong voice.

Oh…that…

That time of year when virtually nothing, except his day job, can keep him from his deer stand. Not his loving wife and not even his sweet children. (Really laying that guilt trip on thick.) Once, during a particularly intense exchange about the amount of time he dedicates to his hooved obsession, he jokingly quipped that if I wanted to spend more quality time with him, I would “need to grow antlers.” His laughter was met with silence…and that cold stare only an angry wife can give. He’s lucky I love him…a lot. But then again, what did I expect? Unlike your typical hunting enthusiast, he actually went to guide school in Montana and was working at a hunting ranch in South Texas when we got married. He actually used to hunt for a living. Most guys only dream of this kind of job. And he gave it up to start a family. After all, round-the-clock babysitting of wealthy business men doesn’t exactly mix well with the domestic life.

And although I’ll soon start to get cranky about his absence every evening and for a good chunk of the day on Saturdays and Sundays, I’m beginning to understand a little bit more why he just has to get out there. I’ve finally found my passion, writing. I get it now. That thrill of indulging in your favorite activity, and losing yourself in its relaxing embrace. When I began blogging in earnest, my husband just didn’t get it. Why would I spend all this time pursuing my passion if I wasn’t certain anything would come of it? Weren’t there more productive things I could be doing? “Kind of like when you sit in your tree stand for hours and pass up several deer because it doesn’t align with your deer management plan?,” I asked him. (Yes, he’s that serious about his endeavors.)

“Oh,” he said. “So blogging is your hobby?” Well, I hadn’t really thought about it that way before, but he was right. “Yes, just like you love to hunt, I love to write, whether anything comes of it or not.” And just like that, we came to some sort of informal agreement. He doesn’t complain too much about going to bed alone while I have a date with my laptop, and I’ll TRY not to complain too much this year when he becomes a seldom-seen face around this house.

Another upside to his hunting habits? He can’t wait to take our oldest daughter out on her first hunting trip. While that’s several years away, he’s already teaching her about tracking, management and everything else that comes with wearing camo. It’s kind of magical to see them spend this kind of quality time together. Who knows? Maybe she’ll be the next Katniss. Maybe someday, her husband will be the cranky one at home, anxiously awaiting his wife to come home from the field. And maybe she’ll arrive with a healthy Kansas whitetail to fill their freezer with nutritious protein. A mom can only wish.