Hunting stories from the salon

Posted on September 24, 2010
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I got an entirely different perspective on hunting season at the hair salon yesterday.

What am I doing in a hair salon, you ask? If you had ever seen Niki, you would not ask. Actually, that is not the whole reason but it will do for now.

For years I had enjoyed, talked about and written about the magnificent tradition of getting together with the guys for a few days in the woods. I never had a gun and, in later years, my friends didn’t hunt much or at all. It was, however, just a grand excuse to get out in the woods, stroll around, and drink and eat a lot.

I’ve eaten in some of the world’s fine restaurants but I defy any kitchen to produce a more seductive smell than coffee, bacon and eggs in a wood stove heated camp in the morning.

Enough of that. You’ve heard that story, you’ve lived that story, dozens of times yourselves.

Getting back to the hair salon. The stylists and women clients were all abuzz about hunting season. How did I get to be my age without ever suspecting that the women left behind look forward to it as much as the men who go?

Oh, I know! They always made it seem like it was a favour to let us go without a fuss. We came back thinking we owed them.

At the salon, they were all as excited about their freedom from men as the men are about their freedom from civilization.

Just a few of the comments I heard in the 15 minutes it takes to buzz me included:

I have the TV remote all to myself!

Dinner can be whatever I want, whenever I want!

Two words. Wine. Chocolate.

I can have a night out with just my girl friends!

There’s no snoring when I want to sleep!

They were all talking about the special shopping trips to lay in the foods and supplies to pamper themselves while they were home alone.

There is, as is so often the case with our plans and hopes, the possibility they can go horribly awry.

One of Niki’s clients called to say that her husband had left before sunup to seek his moose. At 7:30 she got the call wives dread. He had his moose and was on his way home.

On we go!                                          DAC

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