I don’t know if I should admit this in the dead of deer hunting season in west-central Wisconsin, but when I was growing up I wasn’t really into hunting.
I never took a .22 out to shoot squirrels or went target practicing. It wasn’t that I thought killing animals was inhumane or anything like that – it just wasn’t on my bucket list. In fact, I quite rather like deer hunting season with all the deer hunting songs and good stories.
Nevertheless I decided to still go through hunter safety and get my license. Even though I had gone through all of this training, my shot was never really that good. It was mediocre at best.
After a few years of hunting, and freezing my butt off, I decided to quit hunting and focus on things I was better at – that was until I met my wife.
She was a gun-slinging, archery-shooting type of girl. So naturally the first year we were dating we decided to go hunting together. I put my past transgressions with hunting behind me and sucked it up to go out with her.
We also brought along my foreign exchange student so he could experience hunting season, so we were seriously hunting.
We braved the frigid cold with hand warmers at our sides because, unlike some of you that have stands with heaters in them, we were in a heat-less blind with only slight protection from the wind.
Luckily Steph’s dad made us lunch in his blind that had a heater and grill, so we at least had warm bellies during lunch.
After two days of waiting, suddenly a group of deer came down from over the ridge and set up camp 20 yards from our stand.
I drew up my gun as they stopped and started looking around, then suddenly my wife pushed my gun down and up comes her shot gun, and one shot rings out. I look over at the deer and see it get knocked over like it got punched in the side by an invisible giant fist.
I was shocked that she had the audacity to push my gun down and take the shot herself. Even to this day, we are still arguing about what all transpired in those 20 seconds. She doesn’t remember pushing my gun down, but I know the truth.
I never have told her, but I am glad that she was the one that took the shot because I know all too well what would have happened had I took that shot. I would have aimed, fired and missed. The deer would have run away and we wouldn’t have gotten the deer at all.
I say all of this because my wife is a better shot than I am. It is almost like she knew this in her head as well – that she needed to put me out of my misery before I even took the shot. That she needed to push my gun aside so we didn’t lose the deer.
Up until this point, I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of me admitting that she has the better shot, but it’s true. It is one of many things she is better at than me.
We have never went back hunting after that—mainly because we were too cold, but I still have fond memories of that hunting trip and my shot that was taken away by my wife.