Trout Republic: The hunting widow

Yes, it’s that time of year again and soon Nimrods of every type and fashion will take to the forest in pursuit of the elusive game animals across this nation. Fat and skinny, young and old, male and female will soon don their camouflage clothing and slip into the forest to try and fill the larder with scrumptious wild game.

By the time you read this, we of the Robin Hood club of archery aficionados will be climbing and hiking all over Hell’s Half Acre, huffing and puffing, wheezing and sneezing like some ancient locomotive ascending Pikes Peak on a cold December day.

We will return to the nest off and on smelling of elk urine, sweat and BO, a surefire way to win over the heart of any woman who is keeping the home fires burning.

Ol’ Dutch plans on hunting every day of this here season if need be and I informed Miss Trixie not to expect to see me around much in September, or at least not until I get my elk.

I felt bad as she fell into a state of hysterical laughter and smiles such as I have not seen since last season. It must be rough to miss me like that but I suppose she will get along without my wonderful self being around 24/7.

This is a sharp contrast to when I was newly married to my ex-wife and she was not too keen on my hunting and fishing all the time. Seems she wanted me around the house and would buck and bray like a stubborn mule every time I tried to go.

Luckily my mother and sisters took her under their wings and she soon found out that a men’s day out hunting also meant a women’s day out shopping.

Soon Ol’ Dutch was in hog heaven as she even had a sack lunch ready for me to go out the door bright and early so the women folk could hit the mall like Hurricane Katrina rampaging through Mississippi.
Ol’ Dutch did find out quickly that this always meant extra costs for meals, gas, gizmos, new towels and other womanly things she bought but no one ever said hunting and fishing was cheap.

Now, a word to the wise, the womenfolk-go-shopping routine only works if her friends are not busy on opening day. If they’re not around, you’re going to need to come up with some whing-dinger of a replacement for your handsome self, or you’ll be painting the dining room Saturday morning while your buddies are all chasing venison.

The savvy hunter will not only sneak up on wild game that day but if he is smart, he will sneak up on his other and buy her a gift certificate for a manicure and pedicure. This not only keeps her in the spa for an extended period on the appointed day but also guarantees she will leave you alone for a week or two as she does not want to mess up the adornments.

Another quick fix to your partner’s inseparable attachment to your handsome self is a massage. Put her on a plank at some hoity-toity parlor and she will drink wine and nap the rest of the weekend like Rip Van Winkle of old.

This time of year is when the men folk have that faraway look in their eyes much like the 1000 yard stare of soldiers suffering battle fatigue. This gets so bad in some cases that they do not even notice the new couches that come into their abode while they were out in the forest. And there have even been severe cases of hunting fever where the afflicted didn’t even notice the new baby that arrived during their sojourn in the woods.

And even if they are not there for the arrival of said bundle of joy, we can only hope that they were there for the conceiving of said addition. Maybe they should check out that date with the opening day of trout season to be sure they were at least home for that.

Kevin Kirkpatrick and his Yorkie, Cooper, fish, hunt, ATV or hike daily. His email is [email protected] Additional news can be found at or on Twitter at TroutRepublic


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