The Perfect Date

This is the article I wrote that ended up in the Bugle. I would like to clarify some things first, the whole "marriage on the ropes" that was their editor's addition. Of the whole thing we didn't like that (we were never "on the ropes"), but whatever, it catches readers attention I guess. But I would like to voice that this article is meant to be viewed as a triumph for Jonathan and I as a couple. It is a personal story of how we overcame a trial and what we can do to be a better couple. Duh, no one is perfect. I know I am not. Every one has hard times, so the point is, if you can overcome those hard times and come out stronger by it, then kudos to you. This story is not sugar coated, but it is very true and a example of true life experiences of what a new wife and mother might go through. Enjoy :) 

Women in Elk Country

The Perfect Date

by Brittani Bush (2/28)

A marriage on the ropes finds salvation in one little hunt.

My husband and I have been married for just over three years. I hail from Washington, where I grew up hunting whitetails. He is from Colorado and an avid elk hunter. When we met in February 2008 at Brigham Young University-Idaho, we knew right away we were a perfect match. It was our deep love of hunting that bonded us. We were married that July, camo vests included.

Since then, we have had two children. We bought a ranch, some cows. My husband eventually became an outfitter in New Mexico. This all sounds great, but from my point of view, it translates into my husband having all the freedoms of the outdoors while I am stuck caring for our super young ones. With every responsibility we took on, I felt like I lost my sense of identity. Most things that made me happy were put on the back-burner. Hunting seemed a far off dream to me. My young children came first for me, and the ranch and outfitting business were first to my husband. Soon, the very reasons my husband and I came to love each other were the reasons I began to resent him.

The pain of watching him leave with his brother to go for weeklong hunts without me was enough to send me into deep depressions. How could he choose to do everything I love without me? It was like adding salt to a wound. And my husband even confided to me that he didn’t want to come home for fear of an angry wife. Now I felt even worse. And where had my smile gone? I used to love laughing. Growing apart from each other was killing me inside. 

Then this year, my husband presented me with one of his prized bull elk tags for the private land he outfits. We went together the first day of rifle season. It was the first time in a very long time we had spent time alone together[jb1] . The crisp morning was filled with screaming bulls, and my lungs burned from the high-altitude workout. I managed to get my two-month, post-partum body to keep up with my husband. We saw one monster bull herd his harem of cows Brazos River  [jb2] and up into the trees. Both he and I smiled as our excitement grew, and I watched my husband. I could see on his face that he wanted me to get this one so badly—to make me happy. And inside myself I tucked away a new promise that even if we didn’t get this majestic bull or any elk, I would not be sad or upset.

We crept around in the woods straining our eyes and ears. We snuck around like cats, and I found myself whispering to my husband over and over, “This is so fun. This is so great!”

Our monster bull bedded, and my husband suggested we leave him alone until later. We found a spot to eat some lunch and just talked. How long had it been since we spent time together just as ourselves, instead of mommy and daddy? [jb3] We goofed off, throwing small sticks and pebbles at each other, and built small cities out of rocks and dirt. I laughed like I did when we were first married. We held hands looking at the scenery, listening to overzealous raghorns squeal. We decided we needed to do this every year. I was amazed how my wounds could shrink even with one day out hunting with my husband.

Now it’s a priority. It doesn’t matter if it is public or private land that we hunt, we need to have days doing what we both love together, and alone. No children, no family, just us, and the elk.

I ended up killing that monster bull that day. It was a wonderful hunt and the perfect date. But if anyone asks me how it felt to shoot my trophy 6x6, my mind goes back to our stalk in the woods and us smiling like little children enjoying the thrill of hunting together.

My life may not get any easier, and it will certainly get busier, but I look forward to our annual elk hunting adventure. It’s marked on my calendar, posted on my blog, jotted in my journal and constantly be on my mind. It reminds me annually that we are a team. Just as we are a hunting team pursuing our favorite game animal together, we are a team for life, pursuing every dream or challenge that happens to graze into our sights.

Born in Colville, Washington, on her grandpa’s ranch, Brittani Bush grew up loving the outdoors and hunting. She moved to Colorado after marriage, where she and her husband run a cattle ranch and an outfitting business.

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