Hooray, hooray

When I was a young man, a I learned a somewhat ribald limerick about May 1 and the outdoor activities that could ensue with the coming of spring. The cleverness of that rhyme has passed somewhat through the years, but the significance of the date has not. May 1 is still a very special day - the day we can begin applying for this year’s big game licenses.

As I post this, the Wyoming Game and Fish Commission is considering the proposed big game seasons for 2011. There will be some fussing about this area or that, some debate about how many licenses they ought (or ought not) to be issuing and whether the opening and closing dates ought to be earlier or later. When the dust settles, the seasons will be set for this year and the fun will begin.

Some of the members of our family have a rough time getting excited about hunting at this time of year. Not me. I stand fidgeting and whining like a Labrador at the back door. It makes absolutely no difference that I have taken part in this ritual for the last 43 years (not counting the years that I fidgeted and whined before I could legally apply) or that the licenses for which we will apply are already pretty much decided. They will likely be the same licenses we applied for last year and the year before that, back to my childhood. There’s just something magic about putting your name in the drawing for that favorite area that is tremendously exciting.

We will apply for the same antelope area for which we have always applied. The site of the annual Gasson Family Antelope-A–Looza. We’ll draw some “any antelope” licenses and some “reduced price doe-fawn” licenses. We’ll pack up the whole tribe and hunt high desert antelope in September. The days will warm and the nights will be cool. We probably won’t kill a single record book buck, but we will teach the grandkids to love the country and its wildlife. We’ll care for that meat like it was straight from God, because it is. And we’ll love every minute of it.

We’ll apply for the same elk area, too. And come October, we’ll be in the same meadow on the same mountain on the same morning. The country will feel like the dew of creation was still on it. And it will all be as fresh and new as it was the first time we did it. We will spend the next few days leaving the cabin at 0430 and returning at 0dark30. We will probably kill a few elk, if we don’t make too many mistakes. By the time it’s over, I will be exhausted, and will likely lose about 10 pounds. The younger hunters in our camp will learn a few more places that will hide an elk under a certain set of conditions. And we’ll love every minute of it.

May is the gateway, a month laden with the promise of things to come. It’s the rebirth of a new year on the land and in our family. It’s not about how many antelope we will kill, or if we will kill a 380-class bull. It’s much more important than that. It’s about renewing our connection with our home place and our connections with each other. It’s about the sights and smells and feel of the land. It’s about who we are as people and who we are as a family.

Hooray, hooray, it's the first of May. I can apply for my license today!