And he’s a very happy boy.
My husband is, well, obsessed with goose hunting. Let’s look at our history, shall we? In 1994 we moved into a new condo. What does he do the morning of the move? Goes out at 3 or 4 a.m. with a buddy for a “quick hunt.” My friends, a “quick hunt” does not exist. Yes we got moved, but there was a lot of stress that day.
Once he went to “visit” my brother in Cold Bay, Alaska. Oh, did I happen to mention that Cold Bay has some of the best goose hunting in the world? “Cold Bay has been called the Canada goose hunting capital of the world. Up to 70,000 Canada geese migrate through Cold Bay in the fall.” (Taken from this website.) Did I happen to mention he needed to “visit” my brother in the fall? And take his gun. And all of his hunting equipment.
Last year he
had the blatantly selfish audacity asked me if he and his dad could do a “quick hunt” on Thanksgiving morning. See paragraph #3 for the chances of the quick hunt happening. When I blew up answered that it was Thanksgiving he then tried to tell me that it wasn’t. WHAT? Now that, members of the jury, is either sheer lunacy or sheer determination. I’m afraid in the case of an avid hunter, it’s a little bit of both.
So, here we are in November. He has three hunts for this month alone (five if you count the back to back hunts) – due to the generosity of his father. Now, my husband is never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. And if the horse is offering goose hunts, well, he’d be a downright fool to turn it down.
But all of this doesn’t compare to the devotion to fishing. I will leave that for another counseling session.