I’m a Texas girl. By the very nature of that statement, it pretty much means time spent outdoors.

Camping~ I’ve done it all my life.

Days on end spent soaking up the sun at the lake~check.

Outdoor rodeos and bull rides~spent thousands of hours enjoying them.

But spending time sitting in a musty, dusty 4’x4′ little, primitive, wooden hut with teeny tiny windows for endless hours then trekking all over God’s green earth isn’t my idea of natural or fun.

When I was growing up, my grandpa harvested a deer on his farm and ranch land every now and then. It was for a singular purpose. To provide food. There was no pomp and circumstance, and no sport in it. Butcher a hog and harvest a deer. Grandma made the best sausage. They didn’t haul everything to a butcher or meat processor. They only relied on rudimentary tools and their skill.  Grandma was a natural; it didn’t bother her at all, but I was nothing less than squeamish.  I hauled pig intestines in a big galvanized tin bucket from the barn to the front door of the house for her. She cleaned them and used them for casings for sausage. It was simply meat in the freezer and just something that one did…similar to planting a garden and harvesting vegetables. Sustenance.

Fast forward several decades. Now I’m buying lighted nocks, a certain brand of broad heads, and neon colored arrow wraps so my husband can harvest a deer. There’s also certain brands and kinds of camo clothing that one must have to put a venison roast on the table. Not to mention the copious amounts of corn to feed and nurture the deer surrounded by nature everyday. It’s a far cry from the days at the farm with my grandparents. But without that prior knowledge, I’d have been lost when this journey began. It’s different though. Back then, it didn’t cost anything but time and energy. This venison in my freezer costs thousands of dollars a year.

Honestly, some of it is still foreign to me. And while I’m being transparently honest, I don’t feel bad about buying a $100 pair of Steve Madden shoes when a HECS suit costs him $200. His suit makes him invisible. I get tons of compliments on my awesome shoes. But it works.

Yes, there’s a lease that requires those annual payments where inflation doesn’t have a ceiling. We feed all of the hunting buddies a couple of times a year, and they reciprocate. There’s a vehicle needed to get you to the blind, and off-road capability is mandatory. Cameras and feeders, timers and batteries, oh my! And all kinds of gadgets. And I can’t forget doe urine! Seriously, I never imagined I would go to a store and purchase pee that came from some poor female deer. Above and beyond all of these pocket-emptying products is the vocabulary. It’s so enriching!

I just learned what the “rut”  was last year and that was the fourth year at the lease and after a multitude of annual hunting trips for the guys for more than a dozen years. My mouth literally fell open when I realized that all of the buck fever centered around deer sex! I thought rutting around in the dirt and clanging horns was what it was about from those monstrous racks they grow from their heads every year. Nope! I was wrong. Well, now I know why that happens and the singular reason. The boys are fighting over the ladies. 

From what I hear, I’m one of the “lucky ones”, meaning I’m a female allowed at deer camp. I’m not convinced I’m so lucky when it feels like all I do is cook and clean the RV. But at night when everyone gathers around the fire pit and we break bread together then laugh at the funny stories and roll our eyes in unison at the fish tales or deer tales, it’s pretty bearable and really enjoyable and family-like.

These are my chronicles, confessions, and insights from being a female at deer camp.

The Trophy Wife