The Perfect Hunting Partner
We had moved into our house on Lannoo, inside the corner of Mack and Moross, in early 1967. Our children were already enrolled in Bishop Gallagher High School.
It took most of that year to get settled.
The Plumbing company I was working for kept me busy, night and day and weekends as well. Near the end of summer, I was fatigued. The scenario of the deer hunting parties, for the last three years had begun to wear thin. I just wanted to go up to the cabin and relax. What to do, what to do?
I asked our son, Mike, if he would like to go hunting with me in November. His stoic reply was: “WHY?” I was at a lost for words.
Then I asked our daughter, Debby, if she would like to go with me. Her reply was silence, but her frosty look made me think that she would rather accompany me to a mental institution.
My last resort was, Peggy. My pitch to her was glamorizing the incredible thrills of hiking through the woods, carrying a 9 pound rifle and a thermos of hot coffee, improvised with a slug of ’Irish Dr. Good,’
She did not respond , immediately. She pondered,,,and pondered and pondered some more. Then she spoke, in a pontifical manner.
She said, “I am so happy that our children are showing the fruits of our efforts to educate them, as best as we can.”
My frown was quizzical. Hoping, waiting, praying. She did not say ’no.’ She hesitated long enough to make me keep my mouth shut, for a change.
Then, she spoke. She laid down her terms on how things had to be if she would, in fact, accompany me. She gave me 3, non-negotiable, conditions. They were:
1. She would absolutely not go into the woods. [[Her reasoning was, “What if I had to pee?) I was mute.
2. She would not do any cooking at all, for anyone, any time, any where. I was mute.
3. There would me no messing around if she was not in the mood. I was mute but I crossed my fingers.
From then on, the rest was easy.
I called my mother to ask her to stay with the children. She would get them up for school, get their breakfast, pack their lunch, have supper ready for them and in the interim, show them how to play poker, shoot craps, and bet on the horses.
Yes, Peggy and I went hunting together. For the next 27 years she was my partner. Early on, she did learn how to shoot a .22 rifle.
After we had moved to the U.P. there was one incident. I came home from my job in Marquette and she told me there was a dead woodchuck under our front porch.
Our dog, Fang, had challenged said woodchuck and neither would yield sovereignty to the property. Peggy said, “Nobody or thing is going to hurt my dog.
I nodded my head in agreement. I did not mention to her that there was a one inch, copper, propane gas line that serviced the house, about two feet away from where she shot the woodchuck.