The Summer of My Discontent; AKA 95 Days ‘Till Bird Hunting
Memorial Day weekend marks the unofficial start of summer, and the official start of Obsessive Calendar Date Checking. As in, as of Friday, 95 days until dove opener.
Fellow Pheasant Blogger Bob St.Pierre was the mastermind behind the “Insomniac Bird Hunter?” post on Pheasants Forever’s Facebook page last week, and even though he didn’t consult me on that one, it’s as if he read my mind. I don’t know if there’s a classified somnipathy for that, but if not, there should be. Yeah, Doc, I can’t stop thinking about how I’ll distinguish between birds going straight away as opposed to slightly quartering from me. And it’s making me not sleep. But I’m normal, right?
First, understand bird hunters. Unlike enthusiasts of other pursuits, we are treated unfairly by the world, and it makes us a bit abnormal. Stretching it (with say, crow seasons), you could say we have six months or so for our favorite activity, but most will agree the classic wingshooting season takes place in just three or four precious months. There’s a lucky percentage that enjoy close proximity to gamebirds, but a majority of wingshooters have to travel hours even for a day-hunt. Oh, and it’s expensive. Throw in all major holidays for added stress during the peak of hunting season, and I’m convinced the Creator appreciates bird hunting, but could not possibly have been a bird hunter.
To me, summer is feeling like those long Fridays in school where I couldn’t wait for the weekend so bad that my eyes fixated on what seemed to be an almost stationary clock. Don’t look at the clock, it only makes things slower. Whatever. 95 days. I’m looking. I’m counting. And double checking.
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