Sunday, November 27, 2011
Hunting Season Strategy
There is only one day a year when having a whiny toddler in a backpack is advantageous in the woods: the last day of hunting season.
Things started off well enough. Zephyr looked like a pink gnome in a fleece bunting, and largely grinned and drooled for two hours, occasionally squealing at the corgi or god knows - a rock? a tree? OPA and friends helped get Zeph up the mountain. Fray went potty in the woods. (This is big. Who wants to carry a mostly potty trained toddler on their back? High risk.)
We crossed rivers, leaping from rock-to-rock, despite wearing babies and experimenting with a new center of gravity. We were feeling rather pleased with ourselves, our snacks, and the 60 degree weather.
Then the shots began to ring out. A large man nervously admonished us for being on the trails during hunting season (fair enough.) I realized jogging downhill over slippery leaves and hidden rocks with a baby strapped to my chest was hard. Frasier turned the corner into uber-whine mode - infantile omnipotence in full effect. (I want to go through the tunnel. I want lunch. I don't want lunch. I want to go home. I don't want to go home.)
Ah, nature. (*Anyone else get an MJ "Rock With You" video vibe with the tunnel photo? )