The Hunter’s Husband

Written by: Sherry Kerr of Outdoor Media Resources
Twitter: SherryinAl

If this blog were written in my household, it would be called “The Hunter’s Husband.” Yes, I’m that rarest of wild creatures, the hunting wife of a non-hunting husband.

When we met, I tried not to show my shock when I learned that he wasn’t a hunter, and that he spent his money on stereos and pool cues instead of guns and bows. I mean, I was aware there were men who didn’t hunt; I just didn’t know any.

My City Boy might not hunt, but he couldn’t be opposed to killing animals. After all, he’s from Nebraska and grew up working in Omaha’s packing houses. He just believed in getting meat the way God intended – from the supermarket, in a plastic tray, wrapped in cellophane.

And he is open-minded. He isn’t an antigunner or antihunter, just a nonhunter, nonshooter. He doesn’t seem to mind if I own guns and hunt – although he was pretty shocked when we got married and he realized guns might be part of the trousseau that would move into his house.

He even agreed to go on a hunt with me several years ago. I was planning a black bear hunt to host two outdoor writers, and City Boy actually seemed pleased to be invited to go along – as camp photographer. (You didn’t think I was handing him a gun, did you?) He also wanted appropriate clothing to wear so the real hunters wouldn’t know it was his first time in hunting camp. We drove 90 miles to the nearest Bass Pro; I wanted him to have plenty o’ options.

In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to buy camo clothes and wondered, isn’t there something appropriate that doesn’t have leaves on it? My inspired idea was Carhartt’s pants, the original orangy-tan color that needs a few dozen washings to soften up and tone down. I’d even bear hunted in Carhartt’s in the past myself.

City Boy’s plans to go bear hunting became the family joke. One sister gave him a stuffed bear with a sign hanging from its neck saying, “Don’t shoot me!” Second sister gave him a Christmas ornament, a bear wearing camo with a rifle over its shoulder. They were looking forward to the hunt more than he was.

But alas, it was not to be. The hunt fell apart when some of the group couldn’t make it, and it was just too late to put the hunt back together. We had to cancel. I think my City Boy was a little disappointed. To this day, he swears I canceled the hunt because I was afraid he’d shoo away any bears we saw.

Although he doesn’t hunt, it’s not as if we have nothing in common. We both like to travel. He likes to visit an island to go scuba diving; I like to head north to chase elk or bears.

We both enjoy a good steak; he loves to rip his out of butcher paper, while I like mine ripped from the backstrap of a whitetail.

We both enjoy music. He rocks to the Stones and Springsteen, and chirping crickets, howling coyotes, and bugling bulls are music to my ears.

And we do practically the same thing for a living; we both put the best spin on things to present our clients in the best light. I do public relations for outdoor companies, and he represents criminal defendants. That’s right. I married a damn lawyer.

We’ve reconciled to the fact that he’s not going to be needing those orange Carhartt’s for hunting. After a few years in the dresser and more than a few spins in the washer, he has found another use for them. He’s on the way to the seamstress with them – well, I’m not going to deface Carhartt’s – and is having them cut off. This time next week, City Boy will own the world’s only pair of Carhartt’s bicycling shorts.

Tagged as: female hunter, huntress, non-hunting husband, outdoor media resources, sherryinal