It was the last weekend of the year.
In our household, the tradition usually includes some late season upland hunting and the first hard water venture of the year, and it almost never includes staying up past 10 p.m.
With a soon-to-be 1-year-old, the latter was no problem, but the other two, much like most of 2023, had to look a little different.
With Saturday’s wind forecast we opted for a “divide and conquer” approach.
And to be honest, the growing stack of magazines and blanket on the couch looked more inviting than they once did.
This year has gifted me with a much greater appreciation for the time I do get to spend outdoors, while at the same time granting self-permission to be OK with staying put if I choose.
Not because I don’t love hunting with every fiber of my being or that I’m not tough enough, but because I’m tired or it’s just too windy for my little Fisch.
Instead, I relished in the pre-nap snuggles and the stories from familiar magazine voices while I enjoyed my coffee and Fischer’s unusually long nap.
And I still found joy in Scott’s smile at the bottom of the steps and Finley sprinting up them, entire butt wagging in a youthful spirit that hid his aging bones and joints, that gave away the surprise ending of another successful hunt for the two.
In the evening, I loaded Fins and we left with just enough time for a golden hour that would put us back at the house at bedtime.
Of course, Fins and I are no stranger to these outings, but as soon as I pulled out of the driveway, something felt missing.
It’s one thing for the two of us to sneak out of work early, but it felt odd to leave Scott and Fisch behind now.
I encouraged myself to just enjoy it, but the guilt lingered as much as the regrets from missing a covey of grouse.
And I sensed Fins knew he had the “B Team” behind him, working at a seemingly more leisurely pace.
On Sunday we tackled the ice, we had to, it’s tradition.
But what once would have been an easy “cast and blast” day for us was instead reduced to an entire day of preparation for an hour of fishing.
We took turns playing with Fisch while the other rounded up various pieces of gear that should have been gathered weeks ago.
Then we strategically left the house at second naptime, allowing us a peaceful drive to the lake and a happy baby … for a few hours at least.
With an increased amount of gear eating up space, poor Fins didn’t make the cut and stayed home.
Honestly, I’m not so sure he was that upset about it.
Scott took the spud bar out for a little safety check while I readied Fischer at the truck and then we drug out our two sleds and Fischer.
I towed him around for a few extra minutes while Scott got setup and then we plopped him in a sled with some blankets while we fished.
That lasted about 5 minutes before he wanted to explore the many hazards of the fish house (heater, holes, wet ice, etc.).
And so, we took turns between sled rides and jigging, and then resorted to feeding Fisch dinner a little early, leftover pheasant stir fry from yesterday’s birds, so we could at least make it to sunset.
With but one lonely perch to show for our efforts, we called it a night, did it all in reverse and drove home.
Not quite the success we’ve had in past New Year’s outings, but we were out there as a family.
With the mild temperatures holding into Monday, we welcomed 2024 at the same Waterfowl Production Area we’ve welcomed the previous two new year’s.
I hauled Fisch and “A Team” worked the grass.
Several large coveys of sharptails erupted far ahead, Fins barked with excitement no matter.
After the fourth group got up on the fringe of Scott’s range and his two shots proved pointless, he said “let’s turn back.” Fischer and I urged otherwise.
Not 20 more yards and a straggler met his demise.
Another good luck grouse to welcome the year.
Fins and I took a crack at one more spot on the way home with just two hen flushes for our efforts.
Part of me wanted so badly to hit one more spot, things were going well with Fischer and the weather was beautiful, but the wiser part advised to quit while we were ahead.
There’s no shortage of birds in our freezer and preparation for the week ahead awaits.
I found the whole weekend a perfect capstone to the lessons learned in 2023.
Things are going to look a little different as parents.
Heck, a lot different.
While we can still do the things we love, it’s going to take more work for fewer hours in the field or on the ice.
But that’s OK as we understand that our priorities have shifted.
And I’m looking forward to leaning into this lesson even more in the new year.
