Left Behind

August first was the start of hunting season here in the Yukon- time to celebrate! Last year our freezer was a little empty. You have to reside in the Yukon for a year before you can hunt. Now that we have been here over a year and a half, all is good. Sort of.

I am getting left behind. Booo.

I love to hunt. Seriously, I really do. I have been hunting large game since I was a teenager, and small game since I was big enough to hold a pellet gun. In Nunavut we only had to wait three months before we were able to hunt. Shooting caribou out on the snow covered tundra was a blast. Having a freezer full of meat the whole time we were there was such a help to our grocery budget.

I process all of our game and love experimenting with different kinds of sausages, jerkies, pepperonis and other meat treats. Just last month on our vacation I replaced the Bradley smoker we sold up north with the new and improved six rack version! Oh I am giddy to try it (which I will be doing tomorrow with about a dozen graying that are in brine in my fridge right now)!

Now getting back to the left behind bit. This is the part where breastfeeding really sucks. I cannot leave home on my own to go hunting. Cavan refuses to take a bottle of breastmilk, and even if he did, who would I get to take care of the kids?? Sure folks here are nice, but I don't think anyone is banging on my door to take Mr. I-am-learning-how-to-throw-a-tantrum and Sir pukes-a-lot.

Take them with me you say? Yeah... while we take them both on a lot of quad rides through the bush, once you stop this is all you hear, "GO GO GO MOM MOM MOM GO GO GO." And of course that is at the top of his lungs. Definitely loud enough to scare off anything for miles I am sure of it. While I am a professional multi-tasker, I highly doubt I can gut a moose and breastfeed the boy at the same time. So for ease and less stress all around, I get to stay home. Oh how I wish men's boobies had milk in them.

So on Sunday, Matt is heading out for a couple of days with a friend to go hunting. And then probably again in September with another friend. I will be left behind sulking. Yep, I am not above sulking.

Even with my sulking, I am still happy for my husband who gets to have some quality man-time with his friends. And I will be happy when he returns with a moose and hopefully a caribou as well to fill our freezer and keep me busy making meat treats.

Ah well. Hopefully next year someone takes pity on me and will offer to keep Mr. I-am-learning-how-to-throw-a-tantrum and Sir pukes-a-lot for even one night so my husband and I can have a romantic get-away in the bush hunting for moose. Fingers crossed.