Many of us have had a lucky charm of sorts that we’ve carried around with us.
For some of us old-timers, it was a four leaf clover found in a patch somewhere while for others the proverbial taxidermied rabbit’s foot filled the bill.
That rabbit’s foot good luck was based on some ancient worship of a phallic symbol which we will not discuss further on here for fear of crossing some imagined line of decorum. But Ol’ Dutch did find out that just any old rabbit’s foot will not necessarily be lucky. One thing I always wondered was if it is so lucky, why did the rabbit get caught and lose its foot to begin with?
The rabbit feet sold today are all fake fur and therefore really not authentic but luck is in the mind of the beholder so they probably still work.
I have never been much of a believer in charms or good luck objects and have laughed more than once at friends who wear their NFL jerseys on game day thinking this helps Jamal or Benji catch or tackle better.
But this past hunting season I had to admit to some certain idiosyncrasies that have taken over even this old mountain man’s life.
Opening day of archery elk season came around at the end of August and Ol’ Dutch, ever the Nimrod neophyte, took to the woods with renewed vigor and enthusiasm. Camouflage clothes came out of the closet and my favorite shirt was worn.
For those of you unfamiliar with hunting like I practice, you do not wash your clothes during the hunting season until they take on a life of their own. This means they begin to smell like the elk urine you use to cover your scent and are left outside between hunts.
They weren’t always left outside, however. When Miss Trixie appeared in my life, she didn’t like the smell of elk in heat blending with her own culinary delights, so we compromised which means Ol’ Dutch did what she said and leave the stinky clothes outside.
Two days into the hunt this year the gods smiled down upon me and I got a nice bull elk. Now I know many of you will wince at me saying “the gods” as that is sacrilegious but it’s a popular saying and sounds good in text. So I pray to “The God” and He does bless my endeavors.
Day Three of season rolled around and Ol’ Dutch, the modern reincarnation of Davy Crockett himself, found a bear willing to go home with me and soon we were munching on bear steaks and burgers. Both days I had on my stinky, yet favorite shirt.
Son No. 1 – well, I guess I only have one but it makes him feel better to be called that -- came out and Day Two of his hunt yielded a bull elk also and so this season was one to be talked about for generations to come for sure. And, of course, I had on my lucky shirt.
Several weeks went by and we got the meat all processed and put away in the freezers but Ol’ Dutch still had an antelope tag to fill and many trips to said area to hunt yielded little success.
I began to fuss a bit about it as the time to leave my beloved mountains came closer when suddenly it dawned on me that I had not been wearing my lucky shirt to hunt antelope.
This old camo shirt has been with me through thick and thin and it’s getting a tad thin on its own. Holes have appeared and stains imbedded that even Oxydol won’t take out. Basically, it looks like hell.
On went the shirt and the first trip out after that yielded a nice antelope for the winter larder. Now that’s some kinda luck right there. My son has suggested that I cut a piece of it off so he could wear it when he hunts which gave Ol’ Dutch a great idea. I will cut up the lucky garment and sell it to hunters and huntresses thereby increasing their chances of success.
While you may doubt the effectiveness of this method you cannot doubt the results so get your orders in early for the next hunting season, fishing trip, bridge tournament, football game, bingo parlor party or wedding.
I cannot guarantee results but I do know it’s better to be lucky than good. Get yours now while the supply lasts.
Kevin Kirkpatrick and his Yorkie, Cooper, fish, hunt, or hike daily. His email is [email protected] Additional news can be found at www.troutrepublic.com or on Twitter at TroutRepublic.