Trena Eiden

Men are liars. When I fish or hunt with my male dominated crew of family members, they say they love to hunt and fish. Oh contraire. What they love is to get and catch. The caveat is they won’t come out and say it. I polled them and their, “It’s nice just being out there” is malarky. Being sleuth-like, crafty, and resourceful in my questioning, I concluded, men are liars. 

Our oldest son, Tug and his middle child, Dane, came to fish and grouse hunt last weekend. We, and when I say we, I mean me, threw chicken and potatoes in the crock pot with a slurry of garlic sauce so after a long day out, we would have something to eat upon arriving home. I never count on bringing back fish or meat for dinner on the day of hunting or fishing.  I’m smart like that … and seasoned.  

As we drove to several bodies of water, with Gar at the wheel, all men were chatty, or as chatty as Eiden men can manage. They more than grunted at my hilarious quips, so I called that “quite talky.” We discussed being outdoors and all agreed that visiting the mountains was just the ticket to repel discouragement. They joyfully prattled on that, “Just being out there was enough.” Uh huh. Fast forward. 

Sitting on the lakeshore, I was above and behind the men on a little knoll, basking in the sun and feeling it heal whatever part of my soul needed replenished. Tug and Dane were getting bites and actually caught a couple fish. They were chortling together over who was bringing in the biggest and I was enjoying watching my son and grandson’s happiness. Then I scanned the bank until Gar came into view. He sat 30 feet away, slumped over like a dejected Charlie Brown. Unsmiling and un-joyful I surmised he hadn’t caught a fish nor had a bite. I called to him and he reaffirmed my suspicion, he wasn’t catching, but merely fishing. Oh, the dread. After a bit, he finally caught one so all was well with the world. We could now move along to the creek and eat some lunch. Men are so fickle. Another thing about men I’ll throw in for free: If men are fishing, they’ll decline nourishment, but if a woman has made a nice beefy sandwich, full of meats, cheeses and vegetables, men are more inclined to eat, albeit one-handed while casting, sitting the sandwich on a rock to reel in. What is actually preferred though, is for the woman to stand close by feeding them bites of sandwich. When this transpires an odd phenomenon can happen. It’s the difference between dining at home vs. the outdoors. When a piece of cheese falls on the floor in the kitchen, we throw it out. When it lands on the ground in the mountains, we wipe it off and consider the little gravel crunch part of the experience. 

The next day, we grouse hunted and the highlight was while out on the prairie, we came upon an outfitter who had scattered his hunters a quarter mile from each other in the sagebrush. One was walking by the two-track path as we drove by so I was able to glimpse that he was decked out in Cabela’s finest pants and vest “frequently bought together” as their ad touts. With his brand-new hat, one side snapped to the crown, he could have been a runway model for Bass Pro. He had no grouse in possession so using binoculars, I glassed the other two men, which were not toting grouse either. We Eiden’s all thought the same thing, “Maybe there isn’t any here” and wondered how many hours these men had been hunting. About 30 yards from whence the hunter had walked, we rounded a small hill, where what to our wondering eyes should appear, but grouse. Hopping out, my crew got their game. The hunter stood slack-jawed in disbelief how he could have missed seeing birds? I wondered too. I mean, he was wearing expensive, not to mention, fashionable duds, while we were in severely wrinkled vests that smelled like gym socks from being smashed in the bottom of a hunting bag and stored under a bed. I considered asking the man if “just being out there” was enough? 

I questioned our outdoorsy daughter Lunny, on the fishing vs. catching debate. She emphatically voiced, “I only like catching.” OK then, it’s not exclusively men, it’s just that men won’t be truthful about it. I rest my case.