When you are in the woods, it is hard to differentiate between deer and man.
Wearing orange makes it easier for hunters
(hung-over, venison-hungry men with rifles) to make this distinction.
Apparently, a gun-toting woman, wearing orange stands out in a sea of men as well.
I know this too well.
1995: The first day of Buck season in the mountains of Western Pa.,
hunters start their day with breakfast at a local fire hall.
As I walk in with Steve, my father-in-law and Steve's uncle--a hush falls over the entire place.
There are only three other women in the entire room and they are serving breakfast.
I am not only a woman, but a foreigner--in an area where the Grand Dragon of the KKK resides.
I act as though the stares are lost on me.
But as I walk with my breakfast tray, I notice both my husband and father-in-law keeping a safe distance from me.
The only one who "claims" me is Uncle Ted.
I am nice enough to keep my distance but as I walk out after breakfast,
I say to them--
"Uncle Ted, you are a dear.
Gentlemen, don't think for an instant that I did not know that you were embarrassed to be seen with me."
Steve laughs, sheepishly admitting his guilt.
(My father-in-law, to this day denies his actions.)
Birds on the other hand can see color.
While duck and turkey hunting, complete camouflage is essential.
2007: Yesterday Kika decided to go hunting with her father.
All I can say is:
I hope he sat beside her at breakfast.