The coldness of the leather seat made me yelp in surprise, and it was then I began to seriously doubt the practicality of the jeans and cable knit sweater as my chosen attire for my impending hunting trip to the wild woods of Wing.

I should mention that I’m not much of an outdoorsy person; however, I am a morning person. When others heard of my impending trip, I had to gently remind them that while I am more of a “Town and Country” kind of girl than “Outdoor Life,” I did grow up in Red Oak.

The day began before the crack of dawn — quite literally. It took a little more than 20 minutes to make it to our destination.

6 a.m. — We suit up. It’s colder than — well, it’s cold to say the least, but I’m excited. My counterpart assures me it’s a perfect day for “movement.”

6:12 a.m. — As we begin down the trail, I’m struck by the quiet noise of the moment. We’re careful as we crunch our way to the stand, not wanting to disturb the inhabitants of the woods.

6:14 a.m. — Finally, we’re here, and I’m faced with a tin green contraption that resembles a sardine can “standing” on its side about 10 feet in the air. Oh my.

6:17 a.m. — This is when I realize, “Houston, we have a problem.” I don’t do so well when I can talk and I have to sit still. I’ve got “kindergarten syndrome” where I can’t keep my mouth shut and foot from bouncing around.

6:30 a.m. — I have to take my shoes off. I didn’t have any boots. I wore some leather mules with hollow heels. The great hunter says they’re making too much damn noise — it’s echoing off the walls. I have to wrap my feet in a wool blanket to keep them warm.

6:50 a.m. — It’s so cold out that the tip of my nose is burning.

7 a.m. — I made it an hour. Ha ha. He tells me we’ll probably stay until 10 a.m.

7:10 a.m. — I’m not so sure I can do this. My leg is asleep. This chair is killing my butt. How in the world can I made it three more hours?

7:15 a.m. — For the first time, I notice our surroundings. Pines are gently swaying in the wind. By now, it’s heated up some. I lay my head against the railing — the sun is warm on my face.

9:02 a.m. — A slight nudge on my side awakens me. Oops.

As the sleep clears from my head, I see what the fuss is about — a good-sized doe is making her way from the edge of the food plot.

A shot rings out and she jumps six feet up in the air before scampering off into the brush. Now we have to hunt her, he says, but first we want to make sure nothing was chasing her. It is mating season for deer and this could be our opportunity for the “monster.”

9:15 a.m. — Waiting.

9:32 a.m. — Still waiting.

9:45 a.m. — Still waiting. I’m wondering if that deer is as dead as he says it is in those woods.

10:04 a.m. — We’re four minutes past the 10 a.m. deadline. Still nothing.

10:22 a.m. – Waiting still. So far, the only monster we’ve heard is the one in my stomach — “It sounds like there’s a Chihuahua in there.”

11:03 a.m. — We give up and make our way down to find the day’s bounty. It’s not the monster buck he’d hoped for, but still good work for the day. It takes a while to find her and is hard work to drag her back to the truck.

Still, it was an interesting day to say the least.

After my five hours in a tree stand, this is the lesson I came away with: I need a gun. Hunting is no fun unless you get to shoot something too.