Today’s column is probably not going to be one of my better efforts as I’m not talking about hunting or fishing per se, but I am going to talk about unconditional love.

It seems to me that whenever someone stops me on the street or in a store to talk about a column, their primary interest is Betsy, my wife of 55+ plus years and the woman behind this column. With this in mind, I’ll tell you some things about her you probably didn’t know. Over the years, she has probably been involved in more hunting/fishing adventures than you might suspect. Keep in mind that she is not a hunting/fishing enthusiast, and she’s done these things for me.

She recently had a hip replacement done on June 18th, and for the past two weeks I’ve been nurse, cook, and all around housekeeper. Regrettably I’ve been a wee bit grouchy at times about dish washing, etc., but these chores have made me appreciate her all the more.

There’s one episode I find hard to believe today. It was our first fall in Burke, and I had become duck hunt crazy…..probably because of my association with the late Jack Broome. Anyway, we were hunting north of town when I spotted some ducks sitting on a stock dam. Both Betsy and I, shotguns in hand, belly crawled up on the ducks. It was late October or early November. LuAnn, our baby, was born on November 15, 1971. This means that Betsy was over eight months pregnant when this hunt occurred!

Betsy accompanied me on most of my deer/antelope hunts during those early years. I’ll tell you this. If she had her own license, she was going to shoot her own critter or leave her tag unfilled although in those days I might have gladly (and illegally) filled her tag for her.

There was one particular hunt I’ll never forget. I had left her in one of my favorite spots – a game crossing on the bank of the Grand River. When I joined her hours after sunup, she hadn’t fired a shot, but she had let two coyotes pass within ten yards of her. When I asked her why she had passed on the coyotes, she said she didn’t want to spook any deer that might have been approaching. How many avid deer hunters could have done that?

Betsy has never been comfortable with airplanes, and that is an understatement. Yet she has twice accompanied me on hunts to Africa, not to mention Argentina, Australia, and New Zealand. In Africa, she was at my side when I took some of my most outstanding trophies. But her airplane sacrifices in the name of love get better than that. She has three times climbed into an ancient De Havilland Beaver and accompanied me on fly-in adventures into the remote Canadian wilderness.

There were times when she has unwittingly been an inspiration. We were deer hunting north of Wessington Springs, her hometown, when we spotted a good whitetail buck in the company of a half- dozen does. I was considering the shot when she said, “He’s too far away. You could never make that shot.” Well, I was carrying a Ruger Model 77 in .300 Winchester Magnum, and 300 yards was a chip shot. I didn’t want to end my hunt too soon, but I had to show her. She was happy as she wanted to spend more time with Grandma Blanche in the Springs nursing home. To this day I don’t know whether I was set up or not.

One last thing. I am a computer klutz. You wouldn’t be reading today’s column if it weren’t for Betsy. I can write the column, but sending it is a different matter entirely.

Tag wise, I might be South Dakota’s luckiest hunter. I drew my first choices for both East and West River Deer. I also followed my own advice and “cashed in” my 17 Black Hills Elk preference points for a Black Hills cow elk tag. Chances are I wouldn’t have lived long enough to draw an “Any Elk” tag, and I need more antlers like I need ten more pounds over my belt. I’ll also be making this hunt with Doug, a long-time partner. I think that this pandemic thing has whet my appetite all the more. I’m flat out excited!

See you next week.