Good Dental Hygiene is Important

So I went to go see my dentist today. What does that have to do with hunting you ask? Well, my dentist is also one of my hunting partners. He is my duck blind partner. He is a really nice guy with a good sense of humor, not your average stuffy dentist. He's a rabid hunter as well, going after upland, waterfowl, and big game.

Its always sort of weird to go to his office and see him in his official setting. In the duck blind he is just my hunting partner, but in the office he is "the doctor". I respect that difference because it is important that he is seen as the lead dog, the main man, the big Kahona. His staff - which are all lovely, polite gals - scamper around in deference to him speaking a soft "yes, doctor" only when spoken to. Not that he is some sort of ogre; I've been seeing him as a patient for over 10 years and he always seems to have great staff morale. But hey, let's face it, he is the doctor.

My wife asked me today if I thought it was creepy that he is my hunting partner and my doctor, shoving his hands in my mouth, prodding and probing about with sharp instruments. I told her it was better than if he was my proctologist (not that I have one...). Its really not a big deal. He and I chat non-stop about hunting and fishing the whole time I am in the chair. Actually, its pretty much a one-way conversation. He talks and I offer a garbled 'uh huh', or 'uhnt uh'. But as you know, that's all guys need to have a full conversation - just ask our wives.

I think that the girls in his office - including his wife who is one of the hygienists (whole other story) - actually get a little annoyed because they have a schedule to keep and other patients in the que. Meanwhile, here we are carrying on like a couple of frat boys getting fired up for the coming season. They patiently stand by with blank stares on their faces, waiting to swoop in and do their jobs when we take a breath. Although, I don't think he really cares. After all, he is the doctor... By the way, don't forget to floss.

PS - Watch future posts for stories from the field with 'the doc'.

Why hunt, eat, and live?

Hunting has been an important part of my upbringing ever since I first held that beautiful 20 gauge breech action shotgun at age 10. Having tagged along with my dad and brother for several years prior as an observer [aka - bird boy, decoy hauler, cocktail mixer], that first time afield holding that beautiful marriage of cold steel and warm walnut was almost more than I could imagine.

Back then it was all about the harvest. If we didn't kill anything then it wasn't a good trip. Not that my dad or brother felt that way. No matter how the weekend count ended up, they always seemed satisifed and content as we would roll out of camp on Sunday afternoon for the drive home. I never could figure out why they weren't complaining. Dad always commented on how perfectly happy he was to simply be out with 'his boys' - no matter if we brought supper home or not.

As a young stud full of pee and vinegar, I focused on killing - that's just how boys are wired. Its that testosterone thing. But as I grew older something in the noggin started to think differently about our days afield. I too began to simply enjoy the experience of being out with Pops and Bro, no matter if anything was in the game pouch. The shift was based on experiences and time. It wasn't like the skys opened up and angels bopped me on the head while sitting next to a tree waiting for a big Mulie. Rather, it was a gradual shift in my perspective on why we hunt, not the hunt itself. What's that? Why yes, I think you're right, I believe the word for it is "maturity".

Fast forward to today, and that gradual shift in my mind is now a part of my soul. It is who I am. With two little ones of my own (ages 6 and 8), I am loving these last few years of getting them involved in hunting. Both my son and my daughter are very interested and beg me to let them come along. The Boy is really excited as he anxiously anticipates his hunter safety test later this sumer.

I love imagining what it is going to be like when he too gets to hold that same marriage of cold steel and walnut on the first frosty morning in the duck blind this October. I'll bet he judges success on that day by the number of ducks on the strap. But I'm sure that I will be satisifed and content no matter what.

This is why we hunt, eat and live!