Hunting

Well it's almost that time of year again. Deer season. When the house is awake by 3 a.m. with the smell of coffee and Trapper Dad running around like a caged animal remembering last minute items for the big hunt. It's the same every year. Trapper Dad feels anxiety and excitement like there is just not enough hours in the day to really pursue that prize winning buck. I just don't get who would want to sit in a tree or blind (however he likes to do it that day) for hours at a time and be so darn quiet that you can hear a bug fart. He has had birds and squirrels nearly land on him. He has had other hunters walk right underneath him and not even know that he is there. (Think about that next time you are walking in the woods.) I don't get it, but he does. I love to see the twinkle in his eyes when he gets one. The excitement in his voice when he tells us the the story. But most of all, I love that he has a passion, something that is all his to pass down to his children. I love you Trapper Dad and hope you get the big one this year!