The two seasons

My life revolves around two seasons: hunting season and not-hunting season. Not-hunting season is almost over.

From Sept. 1 through New Year’s I spend more days hunting than not. It’s what I do. During not-hunting season I fish a bit, grow a garden, and pound a few nails to impress my wife. But mostly I count the days until hunting season.

If hibernation were an option I’d consider it. Go to sleep at the end of hunting season and wake up when it starts again. Just sleep through not-hunting season.

Too bad that wasn’t an option this year. After sheltering in place last March, and social distancing ever since, I must admit that this not-hunting season has been more trying than usual.

Sports typically provides a distraction for me, however, until recently there weren’t any.

I vowed to grow my best garden ever, but it didn’t turn out to be anything to brag about. The rain stopped about a month ago, so I don’t even have lawn to mow, and the heat as of late has been stifling.

It’s been a difficult not-hunting season soon to be forgotten.

The weather is expected to cool a few days before the opener. There appears to be a good hatch of gamebirds, and I’ve got new tires on the truck.

I oiled my boots last week, cleaned the 20-gauge although it didn’t need it, and dumped the empty hulls out of my hunting vest.

I’m down to two dogs this season and only Ace still hunts, but I’m optimistic that this will be his breakout year. He’s not so sure.

As weird as this year has been, I can’t help but check the Montana Department of Fish, Wildlife and Parks website every morning, half-expecting that the season has been cancelled. So far it’s still a go.

I look forward to disappearing into the prairie in the wake of my dog, the explosion of wings bringing me to full attention, the lethargy of the not-hunting season behind me.

After swinging an imaginary shotgun on nearly every flying bird I’ve seen for the past eight months, calculating the lead in my head, and saying “bang,” under my breath, it will be more than satisfying to do the same thing for real.

Except I’ve never missed an imaginary shot.

The wait is over.

I once again have purpose.

It’s been a long not-hunting season.

Parker Heinlein is at [email protected]