#camoqueenbook

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Clearly, anyone who would mess with an outdoorsman doesn’t know the cardinal outdoorsman rule: when in doubt, blast it! This applies to anything, anywhere. See, similar to most birds, outdoorsmen undergo a molt, generally toward the end of summer. They gradually shed their fishing gear and sprout their fall plumage, which consists of camo and lots and lots of firearms and knives. Their demeanor changes, too, from patient angler to pent-up, testosterone-fueled blood lust. Once they taste the hunting frenzy, you’ll want to stay out of the woods. The second that the calendar indicates that it is indeed hunting season, their eyes cross, their trigger fingers start to twitch, they douse themselves in wild animal piss, and they sneak around in the woods jacked up on endless pots of coffee.

[camoqueenbook-blog]

Now I know someone’s going to read this and say, “A few crazies give hunters a bad name—most people are responsible gun owners.” And they’re probably right. So the moral of this little story is: when you see a deer-crossing sign blasted full of bullet holes, drive faster—there’s a crazy person on the loose, he has a gun, and your hubcaps might be next.

[camoqueenbook-blog]

Yes, I know it is sad that you will have to wait another ENTIRE year to chase down that 400 class bull. But in the meantime, you can keep yourself occupied with all of the other outdoor, camo-clad activities that our great state has to offer. Now, put the bugle down, grab your camo and run….that is before you get that “honey-do” list waved in your face before the season of joy is over…And then it is myyyy favorite time of year when I can say “Let's get to work on that honey-do list, you hunky camo man! - See more at: http://www.distinctlymontana.com/content/life-after-elk#sthash.MhClzkod.dpuf

[camoqueenbook-blog]

I wish there were something that made me as giddy as a school girl on a daily basis as hunting and fishing does for him. Yes, I have hobbies I love. I even enjoy going fishing and camping. I have to admit though, there’s nothing I would repeatedly get up for every weekend at 4 a.m., freeze to death, rub my body down in estrus stink, snort and snuffle like a wild animal in public, spend every spare cent I have on a new camouflage pattern, or be willing to eat gas station corn dogs day in, day out. 

[camoqueenbook-blog]

You can see demonstrations of their love from the inch-thick layer of fur on the front seat of the truck to the unwavering love and attention in the dog’s eyes as he looks at his outdoorsman. 

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Just when you think the outdoorsman has forgotten about the newest, baddest, loudest, sweetest, biggest, diesel smokin’ truck that gets great gas mileage, the sales pitch begins again. It never fails—after every hunting trip with his fellow gnarly, tire-burnout-obsessed buddies, he comes home “needing” a new truck.

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Being an outdoorsman apparently keeps a man young at heart. Even in his thirties, my guy still has the mind of a hormone-riddled, combustion-motor-obsessed, sixteen-year-old boy. 

[camoqueenbook-blog]

Spot: Any highly secret location where the outdoorsman hunts, fishes, stalks, or otherwise harasses wildlife. Only the outdoorsman knows where these spots are, and he’s gone to great pains to hide them from his buddies, Google Maps, the National Security Agency, Navy Seals Team Six, and you. Even his dog is blindfolded before driving to a spot. 

[camoqueenbook-blog]

When I first fell for my ruggedly handsome outdoorsman, I had no idea that he spoke a foreign language. No, not a language of romance like Italian or French, and nothing as exotic as Balinese or Icelandic. Alas, his patois is more of a mashup of grunts, animal mating calls, pantomimes, and words shortened beyond recognition, except to dogs. The following glossary explains these sounds, and also the terms of endearment familiar only to Camo Queens.

[camoqueenbook-blog]

KYSS Interview.