The 2011 Dove Hunting Season will open Thursday -- with a bang. Sorry, I couldn't resist.
I'm really looking forward to getting my hunting license this year. It's because I no longer have to suffer the humiliation that goes along with the process. Some of you know what I'm talking about. I'm usually the lone female in a long line of males. Of course the people issuing the hunting licenses have to ask -- outloud -- "How many birds did you kill last year?" In 2010, my answer was zero. None. Nada. Peppering a couple of my fast-flying feathered friends doesn't count. Really? They couldn't have you fill out a stupid form? Why was I being hazed like a frat boy? That's so disrespectful.
Seriously? Is it because I'm a girl?
No. They ask everyone the same question. They mean no disrespect. They're just tracking the numbers.
So as I stand proud as a peacock in line at the Sports Academy + Outdoors or some other location for purchasing a hunting license, I will say, "Three!" I will probably say it very loudly -- perhaps I'll even shout it outloud -- because there will be some dudes there who will sheepishly say "none." It's OK. I've been there guys.
This is How We Do It!
Last year I wrote about being a super cool wife who is into dove hunting but I never followed up with my results. I can proudly answer some questions. No, I did not cry like a baby when I killed my first dove. It felt like like winning the Super Bowl. It was like kicking a game-winning field goal with one second on the clock. I guess in girlspeak it was like finding the perfect pair of shoes to go with your new dress -- but winning the Super Bowl sounds so much stronger. There is something so empowering about firing a gun. This is Texas. It's OK to say it feels so right.
Pass the Bacon and Jalapenos Boys
I'm pretty sure everyone in a 10-mile radius heard my shout of celebration as that dove hit the ground. The remaining guys hunting with me cheered too. Did they secretly wish their wives were celebrating this experience? Probably not. This is a guy-thing. Well. It. Was.
Why am I allowed into the predominantly male sport? Is it because I'm the cool wife who likes football, rock music and now hunting? Maybe. But owning the ranchland where they hunt ensures me that I get to think that I'm cool enough to hang with the boys.
While the dove now have something to fear -- the guys don't. I'll be hunting a cab during Fashion Week the following weekend. I'll be trading in the camo for couture (or capri pants for those who really know me), ammo for A Lines, and shotguns for shrugs soon enough. (It's OK if hunters don't get this).
And About the Dove
Just to answer any questions, the answer is no, I didn't shoot the white dove -- the one that happens to be the international symbol of peace with an olive branch hanging from its mouth. The ones we hunt are not the beautiful, pure white dove you see released at weddings. We're looking for Zenaida macroura: aka Mourning Dove. They are light gray and brown, fly very fast and you will not see them at weddings.
Hunting season opens September 1, 2011. Have a safe and happy season.
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