Читать книгу Backlash: A Compendium of Lore and Lies (Mostly Lies) Concerning Hunting, Fishing and the Out of Doors - Galen Winter - Страница 13

Cocktail Parties

Hunters and fishers are required to endure larger annoyances and are exposed to greater miseries, agonies and distress than are the other less fortunate kinds of men. There’s no justification for it, but there’s no doubt about it, either.

Two theories have been advanced to explain that curious phenomenon. According to one hypothesis, those persons who do not participate in our field and stream activities, noting our particular serenity and joie de vivre, become uncontrollably jealous and dedicate their lives to bedeviling us. A listing of these kinds of persons include people in the IRS and the DNR and wives.

According to the other theory, the Architect of the Universe knew he was creating a favored class of superior people when he made sportsmen. He gave us additional burdens to carry in order to keep the others from crying discrimination and favoritism.

To test the second postulate, I recently ran a scientific survey. I questioned all of my hunting and fishing acquaintances. Without exception, every one of them agreed, unreservedly, that hunters and fishermen were all admirable fellows, endowed with a markedly superior intellect. I showed these decisive results to What’s-Her-Name and she said: “Humnphf,” thereby proving the first hypothesis.

The fact that additional sufferings have been assigned to the sportsman is incontrovertible. Consider the increases in license fees, the uncontrolled growth of recreational rafting on our trout streams and the probability that we will be dragged off to some wretched social event where we will be expected to wear a tie.

When the little woman has her heart set on going to the Koenigs for wine and cheese next Friday “because I hear Alyce has redone her bedroom and I want to see it and all of our friends will be there and you haven’t taken me out since the opening of the trout season last spring” - well, take my advice friends, give up. Don’t fight it.

Oh, I suppose you could come out with: “Aaeegghh, kakka kah hakk. I didn’t want to worry you hon, but yesterday I went to see Doc Fischer for a check-up. He says I’ve got the Black Plague. It’s very contagious. Maybe you’d better go without me.”

It won’t work. She’s almost certain to remember Doc Fischer is a veterinarian. If she doesn’t believe you, that tale will put an additional strain on your, at best, rather tenuous relationship. If she does buy it, you’ll only be postponing the inevitable. You might as well get it over with. You know you’ll have to attend one of those affairs every year or so. It’s part of the special price you must pay for having the magnificent good fortune of being an outdoorsman.

All right then. You’re at this party and you’re bored to death. You haven’t said a word in an hour - except for “Yes, dear” and “Ha, ha.” Your hostess will think it is incumbent upon her to bring you into the mainstream of the party and make sure you have a good time. She has read the books on the hostessing business. She has learned to put a guest at ease by starting a conversation on some subject in which he is interested.

When she gets that look in her eye and advances toward you, be prepared. You’re in for a question about the Great Out Of Doors.

A common question is: “Why does a doggie hold up one of his paws when he points at a birdie?” The answer is: “A hunting dog will frequently interrupt a step as it closes on a bird. Thus, a front foot or a hind foot, may be held in the air as the dog freezes and rigidly indicates the presence and location of a quarry. But be just a bit careful with the raised hind foot. I got fooled once.”

Last year, Doug Burris was hostess engaged, as follows: “My husband is a duck hunter. What does he mean when he talks about six chilled shot?” Doug answered: “Drinking warm whiskey on a cold day is considered by some to be injurious to your health. Your husband, madam, is addicted to sitting in a duck blind and drinking whiskey after it has been chilled for six minutes.”

When you’re at a party, it’s important to pay attention and not let your mind wander. Bob Gartzke got into trouble at a Bryn Mawr social event. He was thinking about ice fishing while his hostess was going on about bird watching. She claimed she saw something quite spectacular during the previous summer.

Bob regained consciousness in time to hear her ask if he could identify it. She said it had a yellow tail and caught flies. Bob said it must have been a Chinese outfielder.

Anyway, when Alyce Koenig approached, I was ready for her. She asked me: “How does one stop a dog from jumping up on one?” In a good loud voice I said: “Kick him square in the...”

At this point What’s-Her-Name apparently had an attack of something. She let out a scream and became quite agitated. She grabbed me by the arm and hustled me out of the house. I got into the car and drove her straight home. She didn’t say anything. She seemed kind of white and tense and she made gurgling noises.

In a few days she was back to normal. It made me feel good - taking care of that social obligation. A man really should take his wife to one of those parties every once in a while.