I used to think that Tom Hank’s friend, Wilson, in the movie Castaway was rather strange. Who names a volleyball? That all changed this year when I met a tree named John while hunting. Our situations were similar, Tom’s and mine. He was on a remote island surround by nothing, and I was in my deer stand surrounded by nothing. So crazy!
Just the other day I was looking at my work calendar and I noticed I didn’t have any appointments scheduled for the month of November yet. I realize we are still seven months away (ONLY SEVEN MONTHS?!?!?!), but I think about this month every day of the year. It’s an important month for deer hunters as I am sure you know.
I’m a guy that likes stats. I admit it. I can’t wait for the data to come back from all of the teeth that were collected during rifle season in Vermont this year to gain a better understanding of the age structure of Vermont’s deer herd. Additionally, I am really looking forward to seeing how points bucks are carrying on their noggins by age. It’s going to be sweet.
Have you ever been in a relationship that you knew wouldn’t last but you continued to hold out hope that it would? Deer season in Vermont is not much different for me. If the last day of rifle season is like the bad, non-mutual breakup of something you thought was great, then muzzleloader season is like the look you get a short time after the relationship ended that gives you hope you can work things out and get back together. Except you know it’s too good to be true and the bitter end is in sight.
Well known psychologists have long studied the correlation between increased rates of depression and the end of hunting season to determine if they are related. Why they have to study it to figure this out is beyond me because any idiot knows that they are. I bet those same psychologists don’t hunt. If they did, they wouldn’t need to study such matters.
I’m depressed. Just ask my wife.