Purses and Backpacks

Now most of you that know Ol' Dutch long ago came to the conclusion that he must shy away from anything which shows his effeminate side.

This did not come about easily. It took many years of refusing to hold the wife's purse while she tried something on before it took hold for good. And, still, I’m not sure if it were my refusal or the divorce which really finalized that situation.

Someone once said that the reason divorces are so expensive is that “they are worth it.” Now I don't know about that but for Ol' Dutch his life of hunting and fishing instead of working did coincide with that ugly event so maybe it’s true.

Whatever the cause the outcome has been better than first anticipated. Here, I am now, a man without a bag-to-hold on any shopping adventure Trixie drags me on as she will never let loose of the reins of her glorified duffel bag she calls a “purse.”

Elk season has begun for Ol' Dutch and with that comes what is known as “quiet time.” That is never in huge supply with Miss Trixie around so it does give me a chance to recharge and think about some of the deeper things in life. And, this week, I thought about having a purse.

In preparation for bow season, I was amazed at the do-dads and dew-hickeys that were needed in my backpack to feel like I was complete in the woods. It also helped me to understand a bit why women need a large purse.

In my pack I noticed some camouflaged paint and as I thought about it there is not much difference between that and the war paint women carry in their satchels. It serves exactly the same purpose which is to hide from unsuspecting prey anything that would give away a true identity.

Further inspection took me to the elk urine and elk-in-heat potion that is sure to seduce any bull worthy of the name. Perfume does exactly the same thing and many a bull has fallen to the wafting smells and aromas of a pretty lady flaunting her stuff.

These scents are not to be confused with “cover scents.” Too much of that whether you are hunting for bulls or men is not a good thing. But, I’ve probably said enough about that, if you get my drift. Well, maybe not my drift as it’s pretty rank at the moment.

One pocket in my backpack has an elk bugle call and a cow call. These have been known to come in handy a time or two and any woman worth her salt knows just when to make the appropriate gestures and flirty conversation to attract the bull of her choosing.

As I looked further through my backpack I was amazed at the plethora of items I am hauling into the woods on my back. They include lighters, ropes, knives, plastic baggies, snacks, meat salvage bags, batteries, phone, emergency blanket and even a fake elk cow decoy.

One early morning out hunting I reflected on my backpack and how it has everything that I could possibly want.

Then, I recalled, the many, many times I’ve been missing something --- be in a Bingo dauber, gun ammo, lip balm, new guitar strings, phone charger or fishing bait --- and I’ve asked Trixie if she happens to have the said item. She dives into her bottomless bag and comes up with a solution to my every need.

I would not be a bit surprised to see her pull out an expedition tent out of that magician’s hat complete with Oxygen and crampons for a full ascent on Mount Everest.

Oh yea, she already did that once. Dang, if only I had a purse like that.