Have you ever had something grab your attention, your soul so much that it preoccupies your thoughts and actions? By definition, this is an obsession. Looking back, I can honestly say it began innocently at the young age of 24. Prior to that I really had no exposure to it, no familial connection. It was definitely not passed down from generations within my family.
It started out small, almost innocently. At first, little questions began to be heard on a whisper. Questions that I couldn’t answer and which sparked curiosity. They say curiosity killed the cat. Though I am not much of a cat person after my cat, Fletch, passed. I understand the idea behind the expression. From that innocent start, the voices grew louder and bolder. Unsure of what I was doing or how to do it, the boldness propelled me forward into the unknown. Some driving primal force had grabbed hold of me and I thirsted for more.
As time went on, the connection to something greater kept me going. I could not get it any other way, at any other time, or in any other place. The feelings that rush over you when you give yourself fully to your obsession is nothing less than spiritual, physical and emotional nirvana. I never knew how deeply connected I could feel being committed to this one activity. I truly had found my calling as far as hobbies go.
I am a hunter.
If you are the spouse or significant other to a dedicated hunter, you know about this obsession. You know about it especially when the semi-annual and quarterly catalogs come to the house. This official signal that Hunting Season is around the corner means limited access to your soulmate’s time. You know the hours they spend pouring over each page making sure they didn’t miss anything.
If you are that hunter, you understand the many hours spent planning the perfect fantasy base camp for fall hunting season complete with all the latest gadgets and gear. You seek solitude for your planning in the only place you can get privacy. By using this place, the plan is nearly foolproof and the ruse is afoot or so we think. Our spouse or significant other, know we aren’t as sneaky as we would like to believe.
No indeed, when you have been bitten by the bug it is hard to contain. Non-hunters just don’t get the obsession of pouring over the same senseless “crap” (their words, not mine) year over year. Nor do they appreciate the occupation of the bathroom for hours on end with the occasional call for help when you fall to the floor because your lower half has gone to sleep unable to bear weight. Helpless, you curse the towel rack for its inability to withstand your hulk-like pulls as you promise to fix the hole in the sheetrock from your head some day.
This obsession is so addictive that a healthy number of shelves, toilet tanks, cabins, campers and occasionally the mattress set or two have been home to annual catalogs sent from our favorite stores of all things outdoor related. All of which are categorized by year, topic and season. Albeit to the naked eyes of the untrained, it might be easy to assume there is no order whatsoever.
With the internet, this phenomenon is getting to be less and less though. There are new ways of getting information with a different idea of what it means to be “connected”. Some of this is good and some bad. There are the last few hold outs, still clinging to the “old ways”. Companies like Cabela’s or Bass Pro Shops (now one company) are still sending out their mailings and for those who bought enough, a few hardbound limited editions of those catalogs made their rounds. If you don’t believe me check it out on eBay where the nostalgia is on sale 24/7. Yet it is hard for us “old-timers” to replace those wax-coated printed pages with a finger swipe. There is just something about turning the page and the feeling of it in your hands that can’t be replaced by electric media.
For the few of us who have had the pleasure of touching those pages, turning each page with anticipation yet careful eyeing the previous to make sure nothing was missed, I support your addiction. I understand that there is something magical about having those catalogs in your hands. You get home from work one day and see “it” has arrived as if “it” were the missing piece to your existence that finally completed you. If you bought anything from one of these stores you were put on a mailing list but somehow “its” arrival was something you had scheduled and planned out.
Almost instinctively, you swipe it off the counter and run to the nearest place of peace whether you need to go or not. You shun anyone in your wake and quite the onlookers with a finger and automatic, “I’m headed to the bathroom, gonna be a minute.” As you sit down, tearing off the protective plastic sleeve you begin eyeing the beautifully printed catalog. Adjusting your sitting position, your mind wonders what delights might be contained in these pages. What are the latest bow speeds? How many megapixels are the new trail cameras? What new gear is there to improve my experience or comfort? Did they drop the price of those cabin tents? Yes, the questions build into a fury of thoughts and wonderment.
You start with the recognition of the fine job the creators did as you peruse the table of contents out of respect for the orderly fashion of which everything was crafted. After having paid enough time to this obligatory tribute, the real fun begins with the looking and daydreaming. As you browse the pages the anticipation of the next hunting season builds. You are reminded that you might want to check your bow or re-zero that rifle. After all, it has been awhile. While on that thought, you hold your spot and you jump to those sections to make sure there isn’t anything you might need. Deep down, you know that hunting seasons only last so long and good preparation now leads to a better experience later. You remind yourself to reread the 10 Commandments of Firearm Safety, one more time wouldn’t hurt. After successfully checking out bows or rifles, you flip back and continue to browse the pages.
You remember hunts you have been on. Memories of time with friends, family and even time alone come to mind. If you are like most hunters, connection to the great outdoors takes a bit longer as you leave the confines of life in the city. With every mile further from the city and deeper into the wilderness, the connection between man and nature grows. By now, you are no longer reading the words on the page or even really looking at the products being offered. Instead, your mind has wandered off, freed from the rat race until the banging on the door happens or someone calls out your name snapping you back into the here and now. Reluctantly you close the pages over one hand, look up at the door and say, “I’m busy” or some other retort. You wonder why they can’t use the other bathroom or maybe why you bought a house with only one bathroom. Drats! Truth is the moment is gone. Whatever thoughts or memories you had were rattled out of you just like the door to the throne room. The household “turd burglars” can’t even give you some peace and quiet. You pause a moment to remember if you had actually used the facilities or not, go about your business and hope your legs aren’t numb from sitting too long.
These little moments of reprieve are why we keep these catalogs around for so long. After the first few viewings, it is no longer about what is on the page that matters. No, in fact, it has more to do with the portal they offer to open for us. Each catalog has, in its own way, a key code that unlocked a certain memory or sparked a daydream that we secretly hope to recapture. Those catalogs wait for us, for when a quiet moment allows us to sneak back into our place of solitude and peace. Grabbing that catalog, we thumb through the pages hoping to find that spot again where we left off, thinking to ourselves, “now, what was I thinking about again?”
To the unknowing, these catalogs are just an eye soar brought on by a packrat of a person who can’t possibly need such a vast library of junk. They quickly discern that we hardly ever buy anything from them so they must not be really all that important. For the most part, our spouses or significant others respect the mess even though they don’t understand it. For those of you who don’t have this fortune, I am truly sorry.
I offer up these helpful suggestions in order that you may keep your collection of pure hunter obsession resource books. Though I caution you, I am not an expert counselor for relationships so be warned.
Let’s say they are into scrapbooking. You have an automatic in. Saving tiny scraps of high dollar heavyweight paper has got to be just as useless. Not to mention the countless storage bins and ways to cut and glue paper together. Of course, be sure to come to this conclusion in a non-threatening and helpful way.
Now if they keep photo albums around here is a way to broach the subject. Tactfully and tastefully, making absolutely sure to be as sincere as possible, ask them how often they look at them. Be sure to listen to the response in a way that says you are truly interested. When they finish, ask them why have them laying around collecting dust? Wouldn’t it just be easier to store them digitally?
All of these are really good approaches because it takes their objections and turns them around. However, while this type of questioning will surely get your point across it might as well get you locked out of the house. And let’s be honest, the later is more likely to happen. So if you are going to do it, make sure hunting season is just around the corner and all your gear is in tip-top shape ready to go. It also wouldn’t hurt to have gotten that cabin tent, even if it wasn’t on sale.
In all seriousness, the arrival of these catalogs reminds us, a unique time of year is fast approaching. Whether you live in the vast western mountains with ample public ground or a small strip of land just outside of your hometown the connection to the Earth, the circle of life primal instinct or to our Creator as a whole all starts from an obsession within us.
- L. Yarbrough, Bucks & Beers
