Tenderfoot Diaries

I have to admit, I’m a bit of a Daddy’s girl.  It seems kind of an odd thing to say given that the “Daddy” in question didn’t come into my life until I was 21 and didn’t marry my Mom until a few years after that, but being odd doesn’t make it any less true.   My Dad and I aren’t related by biological ties, our ties are ones of love and support and standing by each other through some very tough times.   I can’t think of a man I admire more, so it stands to reason I’d want to be like him, in as much as that’s possible.

I’ve always been a indoor girl.  My maternal grandmother exposed me to nature, and both sets of  grandparents took me fishing and made me work in the garden.  My biological Dad made me take walks and ride my bike while he ran, but I never found that much fun, in fact I saw it more as a punishment.  I wanted to be inside where I could read and write and dream.  Outside there was bugs and sun and it was either too hot or too cold.  Inside just seemed easier.

Up until my Dad came along, I’d never really known anyone who hunted or fished with the passion that he had.  He loved all things outdoors.  He skied and road dirt bikes.  He liked snowmobiling and had a Harley.  He had award winning fish mounted and hung on his walls, and an antelope ( I think) mount that my sister and I named Ralph.  Dad is a life member of the NRA, a member of countless fishing and hunting clubs and an ardent supporter of conservation efforts.  He loves Alaska and British Columbia and takes long trips to fish and hunt.  His life was one I’d never experienced, but I quickly saw the attraction.

Under Dad’s influence I started to see things in a new light.  I’d always enjoyed fishing, but fishing was more fun with him.   He did more than encourage me to drop my line in the water, he taught me how to fish.   He was also proud of my efforts and patient with me when I hooked the same pile of brush for the 34th time.   I felt he was happy to be sharing something he loved with his daughter,  a trait he’s also extended to his nephews, his grandchildren and the children of friends.  He loves to share what he knows, and his enthusiasm for teaching is infectious.

Thanks to Dad I also began to see that hunters were more than just guys with guns who shot Bambi.  I’d always been an apathetic hunting supporter, but Dad was one of the people who taught me that hunters did a lot of good.  He was always picking up trash on his land or by the rivers where he fished.  He cared about keeping the land pristine and about maintaining habitat for the animals who lived on that land.  Dad was as struck as anyone else by the beauty of an animal in it’s natural habitat, but he wasn’t sentimental.   The deer that he admired in July could easily become a venison steak in November, that was just part of the cycle of life.

The best thing about Dad and probably the thing I owe him for the most is that he made being outdoors a fun, no pressure experience.  If I wanted to go I went.  If I didn’t wish to go I didn’t.  If I did go, we laughed and I learned and we had a good time.  The picture at the top of this post is from one of our last trips to the U.P.  Dad had the distinction of catching both the biggest and the smallest fish that day.  I love this picture because of the sense of mischief on his face.  He’s laughing at himself and enjoying the outdoors and that’s the best outdoor role model a girl could want.