Wild turkeys, meet my daughter. I guess.

Emma has a new hobby.

And I don’t like it one bit.

Oh, hunting.

Killing animals bothers me. They’re just living their lives in the wild, trying to survive…then BOOM! Dead. But they didn’t do anything to you! Don’t you feel a tiny bit sad the second before you pull the trigger knowing you have the power to end that animal’s life?

Killing aside, how is hunting fun? You sit in a chair you installed 30 feet up in the air. And you sit…for hours. Sometimes it’s rainy. Sometimes it’s snowy. It’s always cold. Don’t you get bored? What if you have to pee? What if you have to poop? What if you fall asleep in your chair, 30 feet up in a tree, because you woke up at 3 am to hunt? Or how about sitting in a cold and muddy tent, looking up at the sky waiting for ducks. Ducks. The neighborhood pets of the local pond.

Scott knows I will laugh at him when he tells me how bad he was shaking when a huge buck walks past his tree stand.

Scott knows I will blab to my sisters how he pooped in the woods then buried it so the animals won’t smell his scent.

Scott knows I will shake my head at his “names” he gives each deer on his trail cameras.

If Scott has a bad luck streak, he blames me practicing witchcraft in the house while he’s gone.

Scott has found his match. It’s his own offspring. He has been whispering in Emma’s sweet little diamond-pierced ear about turkey hunting. Scott promised her she can go turkey hunting with him no matter how many times I pop in Bambi in the DVD player. She understands she will just sit in the tent and watch Scott; she will not be doing the shooting. He took her to Cabelas to get her first spring camo gear a few nights ago. I texted my 100% girlie girl sister, Jessica, to send in her troops of tutus, makeup and glitter. It didn’t work. Emma is hooked.

I love that she gets to have special time with her daddy. I just wish it was lying on a beach in Florida.

Will that pink tutu blend in with the woods?
I can’t see her! Where did she go?

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