Pennsylvania Game News - June 2022 - 26

Lucky Rainsuit
In gift-giving it's the thought that counts. And this one surely was thoughtful.
I must've mentioned to my wife I wanted a camo rainsuit for hunting in wet weather, and she
surprised me one birthday with a very nice one made of soft-and-quiet brushed polyester.
There was just one problem. It didn't look like any other camouflage I owned - all of which
served to blend me into the woods. My rainsuit was patterned in Advantage Wetlands camo, a
marshy-looking, mostly golden motif - complete with cattails - that looks more like the cornfields
my deer stands edge than the treetops where they hang.
I didn't feel especially stealthy wearing it. But it wasn't all that different from the brown camo
outfit I wore when I first started hunting. And unlike most of my hunting clothes, it was waterproof.
Along the way, the suit seemed to acquire some magic, too. Whenever I wore it, good luck
followed. This firmly was cemented one bear season opener, when suddenly arriving freezing rain
slowed to a stop with a couple hours of hunting time left. The conditions seemed right for a rainsuit,
even if it clashed with the hardwood-forest floor. But by day's end, the suit's off-color didn't seem
to matter much. And it perfectly complemented the shiny dark coat of my first Pennsylvania black
bear, and nearly matched the handsome shade of its muzzle.
The next season, the eve of the archery deer opener brought showers that all but cleared by
shooting light, but left stand seats wet nonetheless. Dressed appropriately for the weather, I hunted
well into the morning, when around 10 o'clock, I saw movement over my right shoulder - two
does in close range, a few steps from walking into an opening. I stood and turned to square them
up and ready the bow. But as I did, the lead deer, then the other, abruptly bedded. I spent the next 50
minutes expecting one of them, at any moment, to raise its eyes to the corn-shock towering above,
then rocket away in panic. But luck was with me. Even as I slipped my bow back onto its hanger to
give my arms a rest, and off again when a long-awaited shot opportunity finally presented, neither
deer saw me.
By this point, my rainsuit unquestionably had become " my lucky rainsuit. " I called it that and
thought about good fortunes to come every time wet weather prompted putting it on. But, in time,
any luck the suit once might have possessed surely ran out. After about two decades of service,
it didn't even keep me completely dry anymore. Still, it held a lasting place among my hunting
clothes, and was there in my plastic tote on the most-recent firearms deer season opener, when the
predawn air felt much chillier when I got out of the truck than when I got in it. I didn't have any of
my heavier clothes along and felt underdressed, so I swapped the pants I was wearing for those of
my lucky rainsuit.
It didn't take long to appreciate the extra warmth they provided. Conditions felt just perfect as I
sat there, hoping to fill a doe tag, having taken a buck in bow season.
Then he came.
My very first look at the buck revealed a whole lot of antler, but as he continued toward me,
within 60 yards through a wide-open stubble field, I had plenty of time to look him over more closely
- and the closer I looked, the bigger I saw he was. It would have been a slam-dunk opportunity at
an absolute wall-hanger that never looked my direction to notice the clump of golden grass 17 feet
up a tree. Maybe in another season, if good fortune is with me and conditions are right, I can hide
from him again in my lucky rainsuit.
Travis Lau
26

Pennsylvania Game News - June 2022

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