Ann
Ipock
Humorist,
author, speaker
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The thrill of
the hunt for man and woman
By Ann Ipock December
01, 2004
Seeing as how we just stuffed ourselves at Thanksgiving and are now hurtling
toward the Christmas season, an amazing conclusion recently came to me:
We humans are all born hunters — not just men. It’s true.
All across America, men and women are preparing right now for their particular
hunt: Men are buying hunting licenses —depending on the locale and
date, it might be for deer, quail, dove or duck — but women are
also preparing. The slight difference is we women aren’t searching
for wild animals; we’re searching for wild bargains! And though
we don’t have a paper hunting license, we often have a plastic hunting
license: a.k.a. Master Card, Visa, American Express, and Discover Card,
followed closely by our debit cards. And, when all else fails —
cash.
I’ve noticed that this male hunting frenzy can be complicated or
simple. Case in point: A few days ago, a friend described to me his upcoming
trip to a hunting club which was once a rice plantation. By day, he and
his friends dress in hunting attire to hunt for quail. By night, they
“dress to the nines” when dinner is served promptly at 8 p.m.
They also have comfy rooms, each with their own full bath and wet bar.
They are waited on hand and foot, and want for nothing. Out in “the
wild,” they are led to their prey by hunting dogs and/or horses.
Though my husband, Russell, is not a hunter — he’s a golfer
— my father is, so I’m familiar with Dad’s routine.
He has spent winters past in Gunnison, Col., hunting for elk; and in Sheridan,
Mont., hunting for antelope. Dad has to “apply” for these
hunts a year in advance, by way of a lottery — a smart and sound
environmental plan, which ensures the wildlife population is not depleted.
If he is lucky enough to be selected, Dad pores over Cabelos and L.L.
Bean catalogs, ordering the latest gear and gizmos to make his journey
complete. He awaits the big day much like a child at Christmas. These
are examples of complicated hunts.
On the other hand, my brother-in-law, Keith Huxley, just calls up a hunting
buddy late on a Thursday night, and make plans over a cold beer and a
fat cigar. Twelve hours later, Keith is driving to the duck blind (in
his rusty old pick-up truck). Later, he’ll be heard saying to his
friend, “Sheezam! Ju see that?” Then they come home stinky
and sweaty, bleary-eyed and exhausted, but proud of their “prize:”
a duck, a quail, whatever — which they promptly stick in their freezers
and their wives promptly ignore, because most of the women I know have
no desire to cook that stuff. Ever.
Running parallel, the female hunting experience can also be complicated
or simple. Some women mark Thanksgiving as the beginning of the season.
They make plans months ahead to fly to New York, D.C. or Atlanta with
“the girls.” While there, they dine at their favorite four-star
restaurants, take in a play or two, and map out their strategy to hit
the Macy’s, Neiman Marcus and Saks Fifth Avenue sales. All shopped-out,
spent-out and worn-out, they return home with their “prizes”
— Christmas gifts.
On a simpler scale, I call my friend Carolyn the night before and say,
“Did you know Tuesday Morning is re-opening tomorrow?” In
less than 12 hours, we’re inside the store, bumping into the other
dazed-and-crazed shoppers, filling up buggies faster than you can sing
the first line of “Silver Bells.”
This activity is, of course, followed by a gourmet lunch. (See, that’s
another thing men and women have in common. We love to eat, but we love
for someone else to do the cooking.)
Another notation within this hunting arena is that women and men seem
to have the same goals: To spend quality time with good friends, enjoy
exciting and fun conversation, and come home with something we’re
proud of. Call it a hobby, R&R or downtime — but we all need
a diversion from the hustle and hassle of stress from work, family, health
and financial issues.
I have noticed, however, one major difference in the male/female hunting
comparison, that being the lingo. For example, they’re standing
in duck blinds and we’re standing at sidewalk sales. They’re
loaded for bear and we’re loaded for bargains. They’re staying
at the hunting club and we’re staying at the Holiday Inn. They’re
wearing Rocky boots and we’re wearing Reeboks ’cause —
everybody hear me now — ‘WHEN YOUR FEET HURT, YOU HURT ALL
OVER!’
They’re sporting a “Remington 30-06 and we’re sporting
a Ralph Lauren 20” x 30” pocketbook. They might bag a deer,
but our bag also holds something dear. They’re talking “the
thrill of the hunt” and we’re talking “the thrill of
the sale — 70 percent off of half-price, plus a 20 percent markdown
at the register (before 11 a.m.), and a coupon for 10 percent means “’I
SAVED HOW MUCH?’”
Yeah, the more I think about it: Men may be from Mars and women may be
from Venus (to borrow the title of the book by John Gray) — but
this is also true: Men may like hunting and traipsing through the woods,
but women like shopping and bringing home the best goods.
Happy hunting, all!