Jun 29, 2024 5 min read

By Dave Bates

For the Observer-Reporter

After the fourth consecutive person began their conversation with some variation of, “Boy, it sure is hot out there,” I gave up and withdrew to my study. I have always wanted to say that. Sounds almost cultured. Except for the fact that my study (emphasis) looks a lot like a messy gun cleaning station, piled on top of a bombed out post office which also serves as a baseball locker room, hunting closet and police dressing station.

The thing is, I love it.

It’s my favorite part of our house except for the big wrap-around front porch, where we spend most of our time eating suppers under the ceiling fan or rocking on the porch swing.

Now here’s one for my weather-whiner friends. Yes, it’s hot. It’s 93 degrees outside as I write this, of course it’s hot. It’s also summer, and if memory serves me correctly, it’s supposed to be hot. Some farmer on his tractor at this very moment is thanking the Good Lord that he is bringing in his hay without dodging raindrops. Golfers are out in this heat and they have no complaints … possibly because they can drink beer while they play but that’s a story for another time.

Truth be told, we don’t have air conditioning at our farm. Our place was built in 1910 and it cross ventilates pretty well. When it’s 93 degrees, guess what? It’s hot.

We are tickled to death to be blessed with such a place. Free gas makes it kind of hard to complain about the heat index. Besides, when it gets hot enough, I hide in my study where it’s cooler. When worst comes to worst, we stick the window AC in and it’s not so hot.

So all this gratitude got me to thinking of the sheer number of things I have to be thankful for these days. Being an outdoor column, I thought I’d limit it to sporting concerns. I even surprised myself when I finalized my list. Who knew how much I really had to be thankful for? Especially in July. Deep down I guess I must have known but sometimes you have to see it in print before it hits home. This is just a partial list. Here goes:

* * As a hunter, I am thankful for a good rifle. She shoots straight and true. I know she does the job time and time again. I have complete confidence in her. If there is any mistake along the way, I can assure you that it was me and not my little carbine. My rifle is nothing fancy, an old Browning carbine that was cut too short in another life and resurrected with an eventual butt stock surgery. She’s a bit chopped up and like me, bears some scars. I might never shoot a finer rifle. At least I hope I don’t. Every so often I lend her to a kid until they begin ogling her. Back she comes and I tell them to go get a job and get their own rifle. Sure I offer to let them shoot the old .30-06 and that usually sends them packing.

* I am thankful for waterproof boots even though there really is no such thing. There’s only waterproof for now. Gore-Tex and rubber boots of today almost make it a pleasure to sit a deer stand in a downpour. Almost. The old Timberland lace-ups coated with beeswax, mink oil, Sno Seal, neats foot, etc. were a sorry attempt at dry feet. Gone forever are the seven buckle arctics. If you do not know of which I refer, consider yourself lucky.

* Wool and polar fleece: Sure, I know this is mixing genres but my editor said it was OK. When I think back to my youth, hunting in blue jeans and cotton long johns, I cringe. Not until I discovered my Dad’s old plaid red and black Woolrich hunting suit from the 1940s that I knew true warmth in the woods. Nothing is better than keeping warm when it’s cold and wet out. These two miracle fabrics allow a guy/gal to tough it out under the worst conditions and fill a tag. I didn’t discover wool until 1982 and fleece didn’t make its way into my wardrobe until I hit the Colorado mountain country during my ski bumming days back in 1988.

* I’m grateful for a good woods in which to hunt. A place where I can count on seeing a few good deer each season. A place that is not overrun with other hunters. A place so familiar that I can tell where the deer will appear before they materialize and exactly where the sun will rise in the notch on the horizon. A place I can call my own but it really isn’t. I am fortunate to have good neighbors and good friends who allow me the privilege of being a guest on their land.

* Lastly, and most definitely the greatest item of thanksgiving, would be those folks I spend time with in the woods. The Glenns and Bobs and Curtys and Marios that make the great times so much greater.

When it comes right down to it, I find it hard to complain about a single thing. Except this weather. It sure has been hot out there. Have you noticed?

Dave Bates writes a weekly outdoors column for the Observer-Reporter. He can be reached at alphaomegashootingsolutions@gmail.