Elk Hunting

Beginning tomorrow, I get to participate in that millenia-old practice of hunting for food, the four legged, hard-to-find kind. Elk.

I love the challenge, the exposure to the elements, the physical ferocity and mental determination necessary to hunt at 7,000+ feet above sea level in knee deep snow and single digit cold. I love stalking and winning my own food.

I hate packing, cooking and preparing for the trip. It makes me realize how ill-prepared we humans are to face harsh environments. We must have adequate shelter, clothing, food, directional support, and rescue provisions.

I love to hunt, I love to brave less than perfect elements, but I am not a cave woman. I want to have a warm drink and soft bed when I come in for the night.

Stalking the Elusive Elk

Hunting season #1, Mule Deer, is over.

Hunting season #2, Rocky Mountain Elk, begins next Saturday.

I am finishing the laundry from #1, sorting and repacking for #2. Since all of the hunting gear is at our home, the kids need us to pack for them so they can go.

This season, it means that I pack for two sons and myself. Camo, cold weather unders, overalls, hats, socks, gloves, guns, ammo, backpacks, survival gear, boots.

Additionally, I pack food for everyone, most of which needs to be cooked first so it can be quickly reheated after a day of hunting. This year's menu is meatloaf, chicken enchiladas, turkey and dressing, calzone, broccoli cheesy rice casserole, and whatever else makes me drool as I am planning and shopping.

I work everyday but Thursday, and I have a dental appointment that day, so I guess I better get busy...

For now, my house resembles a sporting goods store that just had a grenade lobbed into it...

Large predator

My tracks, on either side. HIS, in the middle...

While hunting in the remote Ochoco Mountains of central/eastern Oregon, I came upon the tracks of a being that had gone before. Comparing my prints (men's size 7.5) to the others, I realized how small I was compared to the previous treader of this path. And I got nervous.

I was relieved that I carried a Glock .4o caliber semi-automatic on my hip. Because I was the smaller, more vulnerable mammal in these woods.

The man whose tracks I cut had size 13 boots, at least. Way bigger than I am, and someone with an unknown nature.

That's why I love guns. the great equalizers...

Looking for a new nest

My husband and I are house hunting, as I have mentioned before. I had absolutely, positively made up my mind to stay in the cold, rainy valley of my upbringing. He wanted to be in the nearby high desert town that bears a resemblance to Aspen. But, he said, you ultimately have the say, meaning me.

Well, at this point, we are looking for homes in that ski resort town in the mountains. I know.

It's not that I don't like the town; I love it. As a newly wed couple, we had moved to that very town and lived there for over two years before family responsibility to George's aging parents called us back to the valley. It's just that I am afraid I will see my kids a lot less if we move there.

The real estate selections are newer, grander, more numerous, and a better value. George will be retired soon, and I can go where I want. Nurse work, especially for a critical care nurse, is everywhere. So, I have no reason to not want to go. Except for my kids.

'Well, hell', George says (he talks like that), 'the kids don't even know where they're gonna be in a couple years, and they can hop a flight from anywhere'.

Me: 'Um, yeah, I know, but what if they don't?'

Him: 'Then they'll miss out on some good times and some good meals...'

See how simple being an empty nest dad is?

Anyway, it is strange looking at homes with the idea that we are just a couple now, not a family of five with active kids who need their space. Of course, the house will be large enough to accommodate visits from them, but I really don't know if any one of them will ever live under our roof again. And that is so strange to me, to know that they don't consider their home with us any longer. After all we have been through, it is down to just us two, me and George.

It is the natural way of things. It is gratifying to watch the ones we have prepared make a success of their lives in the real world. It is just, I don't know, so soon, I guess.

I'm telling you, if you have kids at home, don't wish them older or gone. Get down and roll in your parenthood and the proximity to them. Make it count. Take it from me, it goes by fast. Too fast.

Before you know it, you're looking for a new nest for just two.

Desert rain

Beautiful, sunny high desert!  The center of the state, sunny and warm or sunny and cold, no in betweens.  George and I went there to look at homes this weekend.  He had been telling me how as we crested the pass, we would break through the clouds and I would see that illusive sun my soggy depressed brain so badly needs now.  He has been to the area frequently lately to get his dose of vitamin D and fresh air.

But, instead of sunshine and blue skies, there was grey clouds and rain.  Rain!  In one of the driest areas of the West!  All weekend!  Where do I go to get my money back?  George had said that when I get there, I 'll see the sun and say, 'Oh, yeah!  This is why we should live here!'  Well, I did not utter that line all weekend.

There are some good deals in the real estate market, though.  If I want to live in a brown place that rains...   

Empty nest hunting

This weekend, George and I are going to a high desert community about a hundred twenty miles away to look for a new home, the first in twenty four years that won't be considered with our kids' needs in mind.  It seems strange.  I mean, we still think about where our daughter or middle son will stay if they come back, because they are still in college.  I'd like to have rooms ready for them, but it isn't like in the past, when house hunting included thundering steps with accompanied shouts of  'This'll be my room!'.  

We will be looking for a home that reflects our more casual lifestyle; no formal living room and dining room.  In our big family home built for us fourteen years ago, the front area of the house was very formal, with marble-faced fireplace, columned two story entry, and white furniture.  That was about twelve hundred square feet of space that got used mostly at holidays. This time, I want a great room so that gobs of folk can gather and help cook and visit.  George is dreaming of a big outbuilding for toys.  We both want a master suite on the ground level.  I want gas cooking appliances and a huge pantry.

I am ambivalent about living so far away from my 'peeps' (for those of you without kids, this means my people, not my chickens...).  Although, George and I have always been drawn to that community.  In fact, we had moved there right after our marriage and planned to stay, until his parents' health and the economy changed our plans.  Now, it seems so far away from everything I have established for the past twenty plus years. Outside my comfort zone once again, courtesy of George the Wanderer.  Yikes, the fun never ends.