Marriage is Like A Forest...

One beautiful autumn day, my husband and I drove way into the mountains to go bird hunting. We turned off the pavement and onto a dirt road, the aspens a beautiful gold. The road was empty save for several fully loaded logging trucks.

At the trailhead, we got ready and another logging truck pulled up. The driver, an old, arthritic looking guy, got out of the truck to open a gate, and I pulled my shotgun from the case.

My husband, excited and only focused on birds he knew we would see (spoiler, he was going to be disappointed), wasn't paying attention, and he didn't notice the driver shuffling at us. I dislike when men come talk to me in the wilderness, and I got my husband's attention while I obviously dropped two shells into my gun.

My husband though was excited to see the old logging truck driver, complete with suspenders and wild grey hair. The guy reached us, a truly genuine smile lighting up his face.

"Whatcha all hunting?" he asked.

My husband said we were looking for ptarmigan, but were also looking for grouse.

"I see grouse in the switchbacks all the time," he said.

He seemed really happy to talk to someone, and I was warming up to him. He finally introduced himself.

"I'm Roy." He rocked back on his heels and considered us. "You know. I've been married thirty-eight years. So I'm going to give you some advice. Marriage is like a forest..." he gave a dramatic pause, "When the wind blows, you gotta sway." He said the word sway, and somehow, despite the stiffness I'd seen when he limped over to us, his torso moved like he had no bones. He swayed.

He barked out a laugh, bid us goodbye, and went back to his truck.

We hiked around for hours, up past 12,000 feet and then back to the trailhead and we didn't see a single game bird. Not a grouse, and most certainly not a ptarmigan.

"I don't think ptarmigan are real," I told my husband.

We were back at the truck. I was untying my boots.

"Do you want to keep your boots on, in case we see grouse in the switchbacks, like Roy said?" he asked me.

"No," I said.

I had been conned into this by him before. I had chased many birds from the car, and never, NEVER had we ever successfully got one. But that never stopped my husband from believing.

Besides I knew we weren't going to see any birds. We'd spent the entire day tromping around the wilderness and had seen nothing.

We got in the car. We entered the switchbacks. And I saw it. A grouse.

"There's a grouse," I said.

My husband hit the breaks. We watched it cluck at the edge of the road. Roy was right, the grouse were in the switchbacks.

He was probably right about swaying too.