Nov 2, 2025 5 min read

By Dave Bates

For the Observer-Reporter

It’s my anniversary … 34 years today.

To our youngsters, that might seem like an eternity. To my older readers, a mere blink of the eye. It’s all relevant.

To my bride of over a third of a century I say, “Thank you!”

My wife, Kelly, did not hail from a hunting family. Her dad hunted when he was a boy but got no real joy from it. Her papa was the well-known beagler, Alpheus Potts “Bud” Mitchell of Pine Hollow Kennel fame and not only did he breed some of the top rabbit dogs in our region during the 1930s, ’40s and ’50s but he judged many field trials in his day. He was inducted into the American Kennel Club (AKC) Hall of Fame in the mid 1970s.

Alas, like male pattern baldness, love of hunting sometimes skips a generation. Then again, if not watered like a prized rose, it might very well perish altogether. In her case, there was no interest in hunting. As a girl of our day and age, Kelly had no desire to traipse around the woods. When I offered a time or two to “introduce her” to the great outdoors, she sort of rolled her eyes the way they teach in wives school and replied frankly, “no thank you.”

But I got a rare one. My wife has never been one to try to put the kybosh on my outdoor interests. Sure, there were times in our younger days where she would rather not wait for me to climb down out of a tree stand on Saturday night to go to dinner or out on a date, but she never made a big deal out of it and I am most grateful for her tolerance over the years. There have been times when our house could have used a coat of paint or the grass mowed but I had tags to fill. She mostly understood. It’s not one of those things we talked about much. I just kind of expected it and she mostly put up with it if she didn’t completely embrace my passion for the woods. But I always appreciated it.

While it probably wasn’t fair, I probably wasn’t the best husband, over the years either, admittedly. I do recall a few times over a couple dozen archery seasons where I heard, “You’re going to hunt again, tonight? This is five or six nights in a row.” I would engage in a serious discussion of moon phase, weather fronts, and stages of the rut. I don’t think she really cared all that much, one way or the other. I simply knew that I had better kill a buck pretty soon or her patience might run out before bow season’s end. Mostly I did just that. Many nights she waited up for me while I was out tracking deer after dark. Sometimes it was my deer and sometimes it was a friend’s. No matter. She got it. Thank goodness Kelly worked the 1-9 p.m. shift at George Junior Republic School during our newlywed years. That may have saved our marriage early on, all kidding aside.

I would not exactly refer to my bride as a culinary woman of the woods. Early on she learned to cook venison with a noticeable lack of relish. Her status was upgraded to “This saves a lot of money.” These days she scarcely pays any mind to the fact that she’s preparing beef or deer. She has no truck with rabbit, squirrel or any game bearing resemblance to a large rodent. Pheasant and grouse? She’s all in but I have to make it resemble chicken breast first, a seemingly equitable deal all around.

There were a number of times in our 34 years where we would play a rousing game of Couples What’s In The Gun Safe? I would save my pennies for months on end, work an odd job or two and horse trade as best I could. The end result would be the arrival of some new item. When she would encounter me with an obviously new acquisition, she would ask summarily if it was new? Where did it come from? How much did it cost? Answers were creative and usually bordered on some semblance of reality. It would disappear, not to be seen or talked about for quite some time, or until she pretended to forget and then it was on to another round.

Mostly, Kelly realizes how much the outdoors means to me and that it is part of my soul. She does more than tolerate my time in the woods. She recognizes that it makes me whole and complete. While she doesn’t share in my actual field time, she lives vicariously through my stories and it is evident to her that it is more than just going hunting. Some folks enjoy hunting and fishing while others live for it. Some of us can’t live without it. It is woven into our fabric and she is my tailor. After all, she’s married to an outdoors writer. Boy am I lucky to have landed such a catch in a mate for life. When she puts the tape to her husband, I hope she feels the same about the “trophy” she brought home. On second thought, better save that question for next season.

Happy anniversary Kelly.