The Outsider: Boys, boars, bangs and a toaster
|By Will Jones - The Outsider | October 18, 2018|
Last weekend was all about the boys. It was a big ol’ pile of male bonding but not in that sissy way that is organized for fellas who have lived in the city for too long and now think that they need to go and confess that they like kittens, while sitting in a fake aboriginal sweat lodge.
No, my male bonding weekend was the real deal. It started out with my wife announcing that she was working on Saturday; it included a spot of hog wrangling; and, it ended with me plucking the wrong duck.
“Looks like it’s just you and me, ‘pardner’,” I drawled at Little Z as we got in the car to drive to his climbing lesson in Peterborough. He didn’t respond. Not until I promised Timmy’s for breakfast, then everything was great about daddy. I know how to get my boy’s attention. Let him do stuff that mom won’t.
“Just don’t tell her,” I whispered. And that’s how the day went. Cans of pop. Big Macs for lunch. chocolate bars ... and just when he knew he had me, Little Z said: “Daddy, can we blow up the toaster ... please, pleeaase?”
How could I refuse. He’d seen it done on a (sort of) science blog and all we needed was an old toaster and some fire crackers. “We have all the stuff, so pleeaaase ...” It didn’t work very well – not enough firepower, he deduced, we’d have to do it again – but we’d waited til dark and so the pyrotechnic display was quite fun. Just needed to clear up the debris before my lovely wife got home.
Sunday was my turn to have fun, it was pig slaughter day. Nothing like that to make four grown men giggle nervously and make crass jokes, which the hogs didn’t seem to find funny. One fellow was new to it (him and all the hogs, I guess) and a little squeamish but we couldn’t rattle him, even when someone handed him a freshly extracted boar’s testicle. He put up and we shut up, after the obligatory four hours of taunting and manly joshing that goes towards making this less than fun event into something kind of enjoyable.
And then I was off duck hunting. My hunting pal set me up in a good spot and pointed me, a novice, in the direction from which the ducks would come. Crouched close against a beaver dam, my eyes (if I turned 180 degrees) at pond level, I sat waiting for dusk and ducks to come down the valley. Suddenly ‘swiiiish’, a noise behind me on the pond. I struggled to turn and saw a small duck, who’d already seen me, running across the water and taking off. I rolled over, swung my gun around and ‘BANG’, down he went.
I quickly adjusted my position to take in this new angle and capitalize on ducks flying in from both directions but no more ducks came, not one. At dark we had my duck to show for our hunt, and when we retrieved it ... a hooded merganser.
“You can have that one,” said my hunting pal with a smirk, “tell me how you like it but don’t cook it in the house unless you want a divorce.” So, I guess I’m barbecuing because I’ve had quite enough of male bonding and now, after my weekend with the boys, I have even more love and respect for my lovely wife.
WILL JONES - is The Outsider