My husband has many traits. He is intelligent in many areas of life. He knows how to survive in the wilderness. He should’ve been born two centuries ago, because is filled with the spirit of adventure required to have lived then. He is an avid outdoorsman. He knew what it took to survive before the reality show ever existed.
When he was just a child, the infamous funeral home he lived in, was so large that it had an archery range in the basement. At a young age, he was trifling with bow and arrow right in the midst of the city. He read countless books about mountain men, survival, camping, outdoor living and all the adventure stories pertaining to them. All of that knowledge was being stored up for future use.
He used all his book knowledge to forge trails in the woods, sit by the campfire and tell countless stories, learn which mushrooms not to eat, whittle little creatures out of a stick of wood, forage for food, live under the stars and survive without a compass.
My first encounters with the outdoors, came after we were married. I’d never been camping in my life. I’d never held a gun and wasn’t much of an archer, but I did so anyway. I could never bring myself to hunting, but never begrudged him the joy of doing so. In fact, we were married on the opening day of deer hunting for archers. I would say that’s pretty impressive, wouldn’t you?
I even agreed to going along with him on our honeymoon as he tracked the evasive whitetail. Of course I stayed in the car and read a book while he was out in the wilderness. After an hour or so of waiting, I became concerned. I wondered where he was.
I had visions of his being gored by a deer or slowly going down in a pond of quicksand. My visions turned into fear, but instead of venturing out, I beeped the horn. I really don’t know why I did that. If he had been drowning in quicksand, what good would it do?
It didn’t take long for him to respond. Within a few minutes he appeared out of the woods with a look of sheer rage on his face. I didn’t understand his anger. I thought I was being a good wife by being concerned for his welfare. I was wrong. It seems he had a deer in his sights and was about to shoot, when the horn frightened the mighty beast away.
That honeymoon disaster almost ended our marriage, but not really. I’ve since learned never to hunt with my husband. He does that stuff on his own. Maybe that’s why our marriage has lasted so long. Who knows?