A Weekend Getaway

Lately I've been having the most fun remembering the funny or quirky parts of our relationship. While talking to a friend, I was reminded of a funny story that actually took place in February...4 years ago. It's a story that is funnier if Ben and I tell it together. Here's the long version!

It was the first weekend in February of 2006. When I came home from work Ben asked if I wanted to go to a cabin in Duchesne, UT, with a group of his friends. I didn't really know anyone who would be there, but he told me that Nate and Laura were going too, so I reluctantly agreed. Ben was really excited. He packed some of his guns just in case there would be a chance to use them.

When we got there, I was taken aback by how open and spacious the cabin was. That evening was uneventful. Ben and I ended up going to bed somewhat early.

The next morning, there wasn't a lot to do. All the guys started looking for targets to shoot at (I.E. apples, soda cans-empty or full, paper...anything they could find). Everything that was found was either perched, or hung from a tall fence across the field.

When we were first married, Ben had given me one of his 22 caliber riffles. It was my favorite. I liked this gun best, mainly because it had a good spotting scope. Whenever I used it, I could fool people into thinking that I had excellent marksmanship.

Laura and I were the only girls out there shooting with Ben and Nate's friends. She was making me look bad, soI decided to use the 22 cal to showcase my faux skills. I remember a few of the guys there acting super impressed with how I had hit the various items. Ha!
(Thank you, spotting scope! We fooled them all!)

With all the shooting going on, they would have to stop periodically and go looking for new targets. Among all of the cans, clay pigeons, and produce, someone had found a fake duck. So random! We assumed that it was one of the pricey-looking, rustic decorations that had been inside the cabin. They hung it from the fence, amidst everything else.

When shooting began again, I found myself aiming for this duck a lot. It was so realistic looking. Whoever had bought it, must have spent a lot of money on it. But with how immaculate the cabin was, it only made sense. People with excessive money sometimes spend it on pretentious things...

At first I tried to shoot it off the fence, but that thing wasn't going anywhere. Then I tried to shoot it's head off...

(I know! I know! That's really out of character for me. But what was I to do? We were in the middle on nowhere, at a cabin with guns as one of the only sources of entertainment. Don't judge!)

It didn't take long before all other targets were down and everyone else was shooting at the duck too. Ben even offered to help me with decapitation. After a good half hour of shooting, the duck was a mere shadow of it's former self....riddled with holes and unrecognizable. That head never did come off, and it annoyed everyone.

We all went out to the fence to clean up the mess that had been made. I looked over and noticed three of Nate's friends burning what was left of the duck. I was so confused. Hadn't they outgrown that adolescent pyromaniac phase?? Why were they going to the effort??

It was then...that I was informed....that this duck...was in fact...REAL.

I just stood there.
Shocked.

Half the people there had, like me, assumed that they were shooting at a pretentious cabin ornament.

But, no.

This duck had once been alive...
(Most likely someone's forgotten hunting trophy.)

They were burning it for 2 reasons...

1. They thought cremation would be the most respectful option for a proper burial.
2. To eliminate all evidence of the duck & shooting thereof, on the off chance someone ever came looking for their trophy.
   

What was once just an innocent day of target practice, suddenly felt more like a crime scene.
It was like hunting and stealing at the same time.
I felt dirty.

What had I done?
Me? The little blonde girl from Boston?
What had I become?!

Ben and I laughed almost the entire drive home, and every single time we told the story. The whole scenario was so random. He didn't know I had it in me.

My inner redneck had emerged.

But alas, we were in little, forgotten Duchesne, UT...
And what happens in Duchesne, stays in Duchesne.
(Until now...)