Somehow hunting seasons are already upon us and with a big game hunting trip that will eat up most of September, we snuck in a trip to Montana for their grouse opener this past weekend.
Our first mistake was calling it a “hunting trip.”
I’m proud to say that last season, Fischer hardly slowed us down, at least when it came to upland hunting.
He was not a fan of the water and cattails associated with duck hunting, so we mostly stuck to the fields.
But rain, snow or shine he was a trooper in his pack all season and we loved being out there as a family.
I knew this year was going to look different.
And it seems as parents, just when we have one stage dialed in, it’s time to learn how to adapt to the next stage to continue our outdoor pursuits.
This past weekend involved a lot of figuring out.
Our now mobile toddler is not too interested in spending hours constrained in a pack.
So not only do we just have one of us in the field trailing Fins, the other is playing at the truck.
And I’m told when it’s me who’s hunting, there is an endless stream of “mama” while I’m away.
I’m happy we’re out there and happy to play with trucks in the dirt, but both roles find me a little wistful.
It’s hard to hear the shots and not witness the retrieve I know that followed.
And likewise, it’s strange to approach a point in the buffaloberries without my other half, and truly better half when it comes to shooting, on the other side.
I look ahead and want to walk the next three hillsides, but question what amount of time being away is “fair.”
And while I feel sorry for poor Fins, now middle-aged and working twice as hard for half the number of shots as he walks to and from the truck, I’m guessing he has no regrets.
When it’s time to rest in the heat of the day, there’s really no rest for toddler parents.
Fisch semi-patiently allowed us a morning to do what we wanted, but then it was time to entertain him in middle-of-nowhere Montana.
I’ll admit it was kind of fun to play tourist, too.
We found ourselves a nice little beach, playground, some ice cream and plenty of dinosaur statues.
But it wore us out.
A mid-day snooze and some scouting would have been enough in our past-life.
And that’s just it.
I guess I somehow keep finding myself comparing today to our life before Fisch.
It seems a lesson I keep needing to re-learn.
That and that there’s hardly any point in hunting sharp-tailed grouse before 10 a.m.
So, I’ll consider this weekend my recertification in toddler parenting and realign expectations for the coming seasons.
Stop comparing and just be grateful to have a healthy, stubborn, vivacious toddler, an excuse for ice cream trips and a faithful bird dog, who was just happy to do what he loves most, including a stop at the beach.
