Hunting season is upon us and I have something to confess:

I’m a terrible hunter’s wife. It’s the cold hard truth. The thought of deer and turkey season is like nails on my chalkboard soul. But, I really love my hunter husband… despite the fact that the man bleeds camouflage.

When I started this blog my mother told me not to be one of those whiny bloggers, but come on Mom! I’ve kind of earned it. Right?

For years I would shy away from admitting my foul feelings towards my husband’s mistress; turkey season. Then, Matt retired from the Patriots and deer season waltzed into our lives. Oh no! Are you kidding me?? Now we’re doing this twice a year? Twice a day?

I’ve listed a few of my grievances to illustrate my struggle:

• You might be thinking, “But the seasons aren’t very long.” This man is a professional folks. Our Google calendar is littered with the opening and closing dates of every type of hunting season in each state across this great nation. It may not be open season in Mass, but Texas could be “in the rut” or something. Are you following me here?
• Technology has given Matt the ability to stalk every inch of our farm in Ohio in real time. So, no less than fifteen dozen times a day he is on his phone checking all his deer cams (I’m probably making this term up). If he spots the buck of his dreams he could be on a plane the very same day. Bye Boo.
• Have you ever been stopped by TSA for the suspicious bag your husband just crammed into the X-ray machine at the airport? You know, the one that has a huge plastic turkey with a metal pole shoved into it’s rear end? If you have no idea what I’m talking about, consider yourself very fortunate.
• Speaking of turkeys… the stuff my husband has accumulated exceeds all reasonable measures. Decoys, deer stands, pop-up blinds, permanent blinds, deer palaces (free standing glorified tree houses for grown men), hunting chairs, bows, arrows, guns, knives, special cases for all aforementioned weapons, binoculars, night vision, hunting cameras, drones, backpacks, fanny packs (that’s right, camo fanny packs), camo for every season and setting (we could clothe the entire state of Rhode Island in Mossy Oak), boots for each outfit, deer pee perfume… I’ll stop here, but I could go on and on.
• Some of you may have seen me post this adorable picture on Facebook of my laundry machine overflowing with bubbles, captioned “Very sweet of Mr. Light to help out around the house today…”:

  

  What I didn’t mention about the photo is that this was a result of my husband trying to rid the machine of any human scent. Yep, he needed to wash his hunting clothes with his special “scent eliminating” laundry detergent. But to be thorough, he decided to use his special (very concentrated) detergent with the “clean machine” cycle first. I believe it worked.

• Step two of scent elimination process:

  

  This picture speaks for itself. If it doesn’t strike you as odd, then apparently you let the natural scent of the outdoors set into your clothing by hanging them on your front porch too. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

Since I try to find the bright side in all situations, here is a list of the benefits of Matt’s hunting addiction:  

• It keeps him off the streets.
• He can’t golf.
• While I don’t eat meat myself, I am very thankful that my family is able to eat meat from natural sources. I didn’t list my dietary preferences in the above list of grievances, because it actually has nothing to do with why I don’t like hunting season. I firmly believe that the good Lord created certain animals for human consumption. Personally, it just grosses me out. However, I encourage my kids to eat all sorts of things and since Matt is a devout carnivore, it’s always going to be on our table.
• I love the things my kids learn while hunting with their dad. Hunting has taught my children about hard work, patience, respect for guns (and bows for that matter), respect for nature, about self-sustainability, and so much more. For Matt, it isn’t about getting to kill something, it’s about spending time with our kids while passing down a legacy of an intense love of the outdoors.
• It’s a little bit kind of super hot that my husband can feed our family (me excluded) with his bare hands. And yes, the actual act itself grosses me out, but there is something undeniably irresistible about the mountain man in him. I’m a contradiction in terms, I know…  a vegetarian hunter lover.

  

What I want people to know about hunters and their vegetarian wives:

• 99% of hunters (Matt included) operate within very strict ethical hunting codes, and he always eats what he kills.
• Matt is an animal lover and conservationist.
• Innocent vegetarian hunter’s wives don’t care about your political opinions about hunting. From time to time, upon learning that Matt is an avid hunter, someone will shoot me a look as if I had just admitted that he is running a dog fighting ring. In such cases I refer to the wisdom of Joyce Meyer: Don’t offer your opinion where you don’t have anything invested. In other words, unless you are willing to put food on someone else’s table, please keep your two cents. And honestly, do I really have to explain where that quarter-pounder in your hand came from?

So, maybe I’m not a such a terrible hunter’s wife. Obviously, I will never tag along to watch Matt bag a trophy buck, clean his latest kill, or allow his stuffed trophies into our common living spaces. But, I do love him very much! So I suppose I’ll keep my whining to a minimum and continue to encourage him to chase all his big game dreams!

Beautiful photos by: Russ Mezikofsky  (excluding those documenting the “human scent elimination process”…. those are mine.)